Red
by Keala Leilani
Summary: AU: She wasn't looking for redemption. He wasn't interested in salvation. A chance meeting leads to new alliances, but safety is only an illusion. Fate has made its move, but it will only carry them so far. After that you have to choose: fight or die. The world ended the day the dead rose. Can she build a life in what remains or is fate not done yet? (Daryl x OFC)
1. Epigraph

Resilience is all about being able to overcome the unexpected.

Sustainability is about survival.

The goal of resilience is to **thrive**.

~ Jamais Cascio ~


	2. First Impressions

**First Impressions**

Our first encounter was like a slow motion train wreck.

You see it coming, you can't avoid it, but you sure as hell can't take your eyes off it either. The morbid fascination of the event too much to overcome. Most people would say since our first meeting was such a Greek tragedy that statistically speaking there was nowhere for us to go but up.

Those people clearly never met Daryl Dixon.

That guy fit into statistically probabilities about as well as a square peg fits into a round hole. He was the outlier that throws off the entire equation. Which was just a fancy way of saying he was a complete pain in the ass. Fortunately or unfortunately, I haven't really decided yet, that pain in the ass changed the course of my post-apocalyptic world that day in the forest.

It was a typical summer day in Georgia. So, it was hot as fucking hell. As I stalked slowly through the woods, carefully with each step, I debated whether it was hotter here or the surface of the sun. Right now it felt like a toss-up. My black cargo pants clung to my legs uncomfortably as I squatted down examining the deer tracks. I groaned internally at each bead of sweat that ran down my neck and back. My tank top was soaked, sticking to my skin in a way that made me want to rip if off, the smell wafting off me a constant reminder of the last time I cleaned properly. Pressing my hand gently against the tracks I felt the mud give way, still tacky and wet. Fresh.

Rubbing the mud between my fingers I looked up, scanning in the direction the tracks led, my eyes squinting against the harsh southern sun. Licking my lips I wiped my forehead with the back of my fingerless gloves as I stood, continuing forward. I had been tracking this deer for what felt like days, but in reality could only have been a few hours, and this was the closest I'd been.

Never in my life did I think I would be hunting a deer, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And let's face it, the apocalypse was about as desperate as they came. I prayed to anyone listening that all the conversations I heard for years as the guys around me blathered on about hunting were loading properly in mind. If I knew then what I know now I would have sat beside them with a pen and paper annotating every boring detail, but alas I had no idea I would survive the end of the world and be forced to hunt my own food. I was by no means a girly girl before the world went to shit, but I wouldn't exactly call myself the Crocodile Hunter either. I bought my food in the grocery store like every other civilized person. Why hunt when you could just hit up H-E-B? Plus, they had baked goods and let's be honest was anyone even sure where tacos lived? But you gotta eat to live so here I was about to bag my first real meat in a week.

The sound of a snapping twig made me freeze as I dropped down on all fours at the edge of a small ridge. I flattened myself against the ground, inching forward with an Army crawl, using my hand to create a space between the dense foliage directly in front of me. Raising my rifle I peered through the scope to the small clearing below. Less than 150 meters away was my breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next few weeks if I played my cards right just standing there like a statue. I positioned my Ruger 10/22 Takedown against my shoulder, slowing my breathing as I readied the shot. Taking one more deep breath in and letting it out slowly I held my breath as my finger curled around the trigger, the crosshairs centered between the deer's eyes. It was a risky move going for the head, but it also meant more meat to salvage and little chance of the deer scampering away after impact. It was hard to run when you were missing a head, and I didn't have the time or the strength to chase this deer around Georgia until it died.

I felt my stomach rumble, my mouth watering in anticipation as I squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet downrange with little to no noise due to my sound suppressor. I watched through my scope as the deer froze, its head turning minutely sensing the danger, but unable to identify the source. The bullet slammed into the animal as its body slacked instantly, falling to the side. I wanted to jump up and high five myself, but settled for a smile instead. I still had some dignity left. Somewhere. However, my victory was short lived as I noticed something sticking out of the side of the deer. Squinting through my scope I adjusted the site, honing in on what appeared to be...an arrow. Only one thought flew through my mind as I jumped to my knees quickly breaking down my rifle and shoving it into my pack.

That deer was _mine_.

With my rifle safely stowed I tightened the straps on my pack, pulling out my 9mm Walther PPQ from the holster on my leg. Last time I checked geek's weren't shooting arrows to take down dears so that meant someone was close by. I swear if it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. With my weapon raised I advanced on the dead deer, scanning the trees for whoever was in the vicinity. Killing someone wasn't on my agenda for today, but if there was one thing I knew even before the world ended it was people were worse than geeks.

I was about 10 feet from the deer when I heard it, the crunching of leaves, hardly audible over the natural noise in the woods, but years of training had honed my instincts. Shifting to my right I kept my weapon level as I pointed it in the direction of the approaching threat. Their advanced halted instantly, the sounds in the woods going quiet which made my shoulders tighten. They could see me, but I still had yet to see them. The feeling in the woods was almost eerie, like it knew this shit was about to get real.

I narrowed my eyes, looking everywhere as I tried to find the threat hidden in the woods. I knew they were somewhere in front of me but other than that I had nothing and that was bad. Add to the fact they could clearly see me and things were really bad. They could have already taken the shot but something had stayed their hand. The question was what? I had two options, abandon the deer and get the hell out of here alive or take a gamble I could handle whoever thought they were going to steal Bambi from me.

I decided to fight for Bambi. Hoes before bros and all.

It was a horrible idea, I knew that. There was an unknown person out there, with unknown numbers, and unknown firepower, and here I was one woman with a rifle, a handgun, some questionable anger issues, and a few knives. They say everything happened for a reason, but sometimes the reason was you were stupid and made bad decisions. Fuck it. No time like the present. I wasn't about to tuck tail and run at this point. I would probably pass out if I tried.

Swallowing thickly I called out, "I know you're there. Come out slowly and we can work this out."

For a minute, nothing, then from behind a tree out stepped a man wielding a wicked looking crossbow that was aimed directly at my head. Well so much for working things out. He crept closer, each step measured and calculating, before stopping 20 feet away from me on the other side of the deer. He was slightly taller than my 5'10" frame, maybe a little over six feet if I was guessing. He was fit, arms bulging under the weight of the heavy crossbow. His shoulders were broad, the dirty covered fabric of his shirt stretching across his massive chest. His legs were powerful, encased in denim even more filthy than his shirt. His hair was a dark blonde, short on the sides, longer on top. He was smokin' hot with a capital 'H'. I had to mentally tell myself not to lick my lips. He may be the enemy right now, but any woman with eyes could see he was attractive and I had two in perfect working order. His impressive scowl did nothing to deter from his appeal. In fact, it kinda made it better. I needed professional help.

Unfortunately for me being hot was not his superpower, not really. This man knew how to handle himself. I could see it in the way he stood, his tightly coiled muscles, his hard, unyielding eyes that assessed me in a shrewd detached manner. I knew one thing, this man wasn't going to give this deer up without a fight. Good. It'd been a while since I whooped someone's ass. I could do with some stress relief. I would just have to finish mentally undressing him some other time.

"How about you lower the crossbow Legolas before someone gets hurt," I offered. I didn't think it was possible before, but his scowled deepened as he kept the crossbow steady. "Or we could just shoot each other and see how that goes. My days pretty wide open so make your choice."

"How 'bout ya step away from my deer and ya won't get an arrow in the ass for yur trouble Red?"

"Your deer?" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. "Hate to break it to you, but that deer is mine."

"Ain't got yur name on it," he spit back in a snarl.

"Yes it does. The one inch hole in the back of its skull is my signature."

"Well, the arrow sticking outta its side is mine so back the fuck off." Man, this guy was a real charmer.

"You sweet talker. I bet you really had a way with the ladies before all this huh?" He glowered at me, his grip so tight on the crossbow his knuckles were white. I had no idea why I was provoking someone who was clearly dangerous, but my social skills were poor at best before all this. Now, after spending so much time alone, they were almost non-existent, along with my verbal filter. "Listen, we both know that arrow isn't a kill shot. The deer would have bolted if I hadn't removed its cranium so cut the shit."

"Ya want that deer yur gonna have to take it over my dead body."

I shrugged, "Whatever turns you on. We can do it the hard way." He snorted. Clearly the idea of me taking him on in any capacity was ridiculous to him. Go ahead, underestimate me. That'll be fun. "I don't want to hurt you, really, but I'm not leaving without that deer so why don't you grab your arrow and hustle back home."

"Bolt." Huh? My confusion must have shown on my face because he added, "Ya keep callin' it an arrow and it ain't. It's a bolt."

I couldn't stop my mouth from hanging open a little at his retort. Here we were at the end of the world, about the kill each other over a deer, and he wanted to argue semantics with me?

"Potato fucking po-ta-to man. Who gives a shit? Just back off and I'll be on my way." I moved towards the deer, my eyes never leaving his, weapon still raised, but as soon as I took a step forward he answered in kind. You know, today was going great until...people.

"What the hell ya even doin' out here?"

"I'm sorry, did I miss the signs saying the woods belong to you?" This guy was starting to try my patience. I didn't have time to stand around chatting. I needed to get the deer, get the hell away from him and find some place to sleep for the night.

"Seems strange, girl like ya out in the woods alone. Got a group nearby?" The suspicion in his voice was almost palpable as his eyes relentlessly darted around behind me looking for danger. Almost as if he was expecting this to be some kind of trap.

"A girl like me? What the does that even mean Katniss?" The apocalypse had set feminism back about 200 years. "And I'm not telling you shit. I'm taking the deer, you can shoot me or you can leave."

I moved to the deer, getting ready to tie it up so I could drag it away, but before I could get close an arrow zinged past , embedding itself with a thud in the ground at my feet. My eyes darted back-and-forth between the arrow and redneck that shot it. Somewhere, deep down, I knew if he wanted to hit me he would have, but it did little to cool my rising temper. That fucker actually shot at me. I wasn't sure why I was so outraged. It was a kill or be killed world, and he was hardly the first person to try and kill me (even today), but there were just some lines you didn't cross. Shooting arrows at people who were collecting a deer that was rightfully theirs was one of those lines. It was just plain disrespectful.

"Why you piece of..."

Before I could finish my sentence the stench of rotting flesh reached my nose along with the low moans and snarls of the dead. Whipping around I saw at least seven geeks stumbling towards us. I didn't know if it was the scent of the dead deer, us shouting at each other, or a combination of the two that had attracted them, but we were now in some serious shit. Without hesitating I holstered my weapon and snatched the arrow from the ground. No need to draw even more geeks down on us with the noise from a gun. I heard Legolas locking in another arrow and sincerely hoped it was for the geeks and not me. Lunging forward I plunged the arrow through the jaw of the first walker quickly yanking it out.

 **One down.**

Spinning to avoid the arms of the next I kicked out with my legs, knocking it down unceremoniously. Springing forward I slammed the arrow into its skull before it had a chance to recover, pulling the arrow out immediately.

 **Two down.**

Turning around I tossed the arrow to Legolas, "Anytime you want to contribute jackass."

He caught the arrow in midair, loading it within a split second and firing it directly into the eye of an approaching geek coming straight for me. He then promptly flipped me the bird.

 **Three down.**

I smiled, drawing two knives from the sheath around my waist. Twirling the one in my left hand I looked towards the group, trying to find the best approach, a gap to slide through so I could avoid a bite or scratch. Seeing a small opening between two geeks I darted left, jamming my knife into one skull to the hilt before it could even turn its head while sweeping out wide with the knife in my right hand. One geek dropped instantly, dead, while the others head fell backwards, detached from its body, the jaws still snapping with hunger as slim oozed out the side of its mouth. That shit was just disturbing. Stomping down on his skull with the heel of my combat boot I tried to ignore the squishy plop of goo that ricocheted onto my pants. That was so leaving a stain.

 **Four and five down.**

An arrow whizzed by slamming into the head of a geek to the left, right between the eyes. This guy was a lot of things, but a bad shot was not one of them. If he hadn't threatened my life and my dinner I might have been impressed.

With only two left we glanced briefly at each other, his head nodding slightly as he moved towards the geek on his left. My eyes turned back towards the one stalking directly at me. It was a woman at one point, but she was now missing an arm and multiple portions of her face. Her teeth snapped with viciousness as she hobbled towards me, her one arm already reaching out in desperation. Her hair was matted with blood and guts, and the color was indistinguishable, but might have been blonde at one time. Her smell encroached on me, making my eyes sting and water involuntarily. She had been dead for some time judging by that stench. You never did get used to that part.

Tossing my knife around in my hand I held it by the blade, eyeing my target briefly before letting it fly. It found purchase exactly where I wanted, in the center of her skull. She dropped like a rock, and for the first time in 10 minutes the forest was quiet again. Glancing to my left I saw Legolas stalking forward to retrieve his arrows. He even walked angry. Following his example I made my way to the geek on the ground, putting my foot on her forehead as I yanked my knife out. I tried to ignore the bits of gore dripping from it, and quickly wiped it on the tattered remains of his shirt. Turning around my shoulders sunk as I looked at the deer. The neck was completely ripped open almost detaching the head from the body with a dead geek lying beside it, an arrow embedded in its skull.

My temper flared as I rounded on him, "You had one job asshole! This thing is worthless now. How hard is it to keep a few geeks from eating a deer?"

His jaw slammed shut as he retrieved his last arrow, snapping it into place underneath the crossbow. He took two large steps and we were practically nose-to-nose. Inexplicably his scent drowned out the rotting stench of the geeks that lay dead at our feet. He smelled like sweat, dirt, and that inherently musky scent men seemed to manufacture out of thin air once they hit puberty. I would have even called it sexy until he decided to open his big mouth and ruin the moment.

"Fuck ya, that walker would've bit yur sorry ass if it weren't for me so ya better keep yur damn mouth shut. Stupid bitch."

Walkers? Is that what he called them? I guess it was a little more PC than geeks, and lord knows we should worry about that at a time like this. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right, I hadn't seen that one. Didn't even know it was there. He'd saved my life just as much as I saved his, and that pissed me off.

"No, you listen you hillbilly piece of shit, I tracked that deer for hours, and now what do I have to show for it?" I pushed a finger into his chest and tried not to wince when it bounced off nothing but solid muscle. "You're lucky I was even here or your ass would be geek bait!"

"I don't need no damn help with walkers woman! And I'm the one who saved yur skinny, worthless ass!" Jesus fucking Christ, talking to this guy was like trying to fold a fitted sheet.

"Saved my ass?" I asked sarcastically looking around. "If I'm counting correctly I killed five of these assholes to your three. I get it that you can't count that high, but five is more than three." I held up my fingers to illustrate the point.

"Ya better watch yur mouth," he seethed. "I ain't one to take kindly to insults."

I smirked, "I'm not insulting you. I'm describing you."

His nostrils flared in barely contained fury, and for some ridiculous reason it turned me on. I knew in that moment my high school guidance counselor was right about me, I had issues. Before he could respond a series of loud groans had us both turning around. I looked towards the hill and blanched. There were at least a dozen geeks, and counting, stumbling over the ridge in an effort to get near us. No doubt drawn here by our ill-timed shouting match, and the deer's fresh blood. Glancing at each other I saw apprehension reflected in his blue eyes that I know mirrored my own. There was taking down geeks and then there was suicide. This was falling into the latter category.

"How many rounds ya got in that PPQ, Red?" he asked, already backtracking.

"Not enough," I stated bluntly. "Besides, it will draw every geek in the state right to us."

He nodded, turning around and darting off in the other direction. I stood there, watching his retreating back in confusion. Was he really just going to leave me here? I know I hadn't exactly rolled out the welcome mat, but hadn't we forged some kind of bond or whatever just now?

I insulted him.

He insulted me.

Wasn't that how friendships were forged?

I mean, I didn't need his help to run for the hills, but still, it was the principle of the thing. I try to have positive thoughts, even in this shitty world, but the only thing I was positive about was people sucked.

"Move yur ass!" I looked up to see him stopped, looking at me with an expectant expression.

I didn't need to be told twice. I sprinted forward, my arms and legs pumping for all they were worth. I trailed behind him as we darted through the woods at breakneck pace walkers appearing seemingly out of nowhere at every turn. He must have a destination in mind as he zigged and zagged in what appeared to be random directions, but I knew nothing this guy did was by chance. Since I had no idea where I was, and no particular place to be at the moment, I followed him.

Sweat poured off me, stinging my eyes as my lungs burned with effort. I could run with the best of them, even before all this, but days without anything decent to eat was draining me fast. Legolas continued to push forward, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye every so often. Whether he was making sure I was still with him or wasn't going to kill him was anyone's guess. The moans of the herd were faint, but they were still there, still coming. It had to be big, and without knowing how big there was no way I was chancing trying to circle back around them. We hadn't lost them, and we couldn't run forever so I hoped there was more to the plan than this. Suddenly, the woods thinned out as we continued to run for our lives. I was on the verge of collapsing when we broke through the tree line into an open field. I saw a white fence surrounding the property, and an old farm house in the distance with several cars littered around the yard.

"When I tell ya hook 'round to the left and let them sum bitches have it," he panted next to me. "Don't be quiet 'bout it neither."

That was it? That was his grand plan? Turn around and shoot them? We could have done that two miles ago and saved me the cardio. This was a bad idea. Not that I really had room to talk. My poor decision game had always been strong as fuck. Oh well, if I was going out, I was going out swinging for the fences.

Just when I thought I couldn't run one more step he yelled, "Now!"

I veered left, reaching for the emergency release snaps on my pack and letting it fall to the ground behind me. If this turned into a hand-to-hand situation the pack would not only slow me down, but give the walkers more to grab. Pulling out my PPQ I fired at the first geek who emerged from the tree line and he went down instantly. I kept firing, as one right after the other continued to poor into the field. When my magazine was empty I ejected it, letting it fall to the ground before reaching behind me and grabbing another, reloading, and firing again. Legolas was a few feet to my right, firing arrow after arrow until there were none left. Dropping the crossbow he pulled a handgun from the back of his pants and continued firing without missing a beat.

Well, wasn't he a little Jason Bourne.

The pile of geeks in front of us was steadily climbing, but it wasn't lost on me that at some point we would both be out of ammo. We simply didn't have enough to take them all down, and hand-to-hand combat in a herd like this wasn't something you walked away from. Emptying my magazine yet again I reached back for my last one, reloading. I fired relentlessly, taking them out one head shot at a time. When I was almost out of ammo, and hope, a shotgun fired from my left. Looking over I saw a skinny, Asian kid pumping the shotgun and firing again. The space to either side of us was filled with two more men who alternated shots at the oncoming herd.

One of them had dark curly hair and a thin beard of stubble lined with white, firing a freakin' cannon masquerading as a Colt Python. The other man had dark hair buzzed short to his scalp, a broad chest and a slightly crazed look in his eyes as he squeezed off rounds from a 9mm. He looked a little too excited about killing geeks for my liking. I was all for putting them down, but I never forgot they'd been people at one time. Someone's wife. Someone's husband. Someone's sister. Someone's child.

I could also hear the distinct sound of a long range weapon being fired in the distance, and prayed whoever was playing American Sniper behind me knew what they were doing. In what seemed like seconds the herd was annihilated, and the shooting ceased. My shoulders shagged in relief and I wanted to lie down and sleep for a solid day, but then I remembered I was surrounded by a gang of heavily armed individuals I didn't know. Nap time would have to wait.

Turning slowly I raised my hands in surrender, showing my empty weapon to the group. I may have been willing to curb stomp Legolas for that deer, but that was a fair fight. This was not. Some may call me crazy, but no one had ever called me stupid, not to my face anyway.

"Drop your weapon," the man with the curly brown hair barked, stepping forward, his cannon aimed at my head.

"Sure thing boss man." I dropped my PPQ to the ground, keeping my expression blank as my eyes darted to each member of the group and then the tree line. It was too far and they were too may. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one.

"And the knives Red," Legolas added, stepping closer.

I glared at him, pretending to scratch my eye with my middle finger before grabbing my knives from my belt and dropping them to the ground one at a time like a child throwing a temper tantrum. I was barely able to stop myself from stomping my foot. His lips twitched ever so slightly, and I had the feeling coming from him that was the equivalent of outright piss your pants laughter.

It took almost a full minute for me to completely disarm myself, and with each drop of a knife everyone's eyebrows rose higher and higher until they almost disappeared into their hair line completely. When I was done the one holding the Python took a long look at the stockpile of weapons before his eyes flicked to mine, his eyebrows raised in question. I shrugged. If he wasn't wary of me before the mountain of guns and knives should just about do it. He would really be pissed if he found out about the knives I still had concealed in my boots. I was willing to corporate to an extent, but it was important to make people work for it a little. Keeps them honest.

"Who are you?" the man with curly hair asked, the clear leader of the rag-tag group. He had an air of authority to him and the way everyone deferred to him pretty much cementing the fact he was the head of this goat rope.

"Does it matter?" I challenged, "I'm just passing through. I was hunting when I ran into Robin Hood. We had a slight disagreement over a deer, but I feel like we've moved past it."

The leader looked at Legolas who was now standing right next to me, his weapon held loosely in his hands, crossbow slung behind his back. I glanced briefly at him, but he gave nothing away so I looked at the rest of the group. The Asian kid tried to smile at me, but the way his lips shook spoke more of wariness than welcome. The guy with a buzz cut, the leader's second-in-command, was looking at me with clear hatred. He wanted me dead and gone. In no particular order. I had known a thousand men like him in my life, unpredictable, unstable, and a hair's breadth away from losing their shit all over the place. I really hoped he wasn't included in the decision making process cause if so I was already dead.

"You have a group?" the leader questioned. I shook my head. Legolas' narrowed his eyes in distrust, and I sent a special glare his way. Was it really that hard to believe that I was on my own? Jesus, their lack of faith was insulting. "Where are you from?"

"What is this 20 questions? Are we going to braid each other's hair later too? Just let me get my things and I'll be out of here in no time."

It was stupid to withhold information, especially trivial things like my name and where I was from, but trust wasn't handed out in this world. It was earned. I leaned down, intending to pick up my pack, but heard the distinct sound of every gun in a 10 mile radius cocking. I froze, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration before standing back up, my hands still held high in surrender. The leaders eyes narrowed into slits and his lips thinned.

"Listen, we don't want to hurt you, but you need to help me out here. You come bursting into our camp, guns blazing, and won't tell us anything. We have to protect our people, and I can't allow you to compromise our safety. Now, tell me who you are and what you're doing here."

Clearly there was no going back at this point. If I wanted out of here I had to give up something or they would probably kill me just to be rid of me.

"My name is Alex Winters. I'm military, or at least I was before all this. I don't have a group. I've been on my own since the beginning." The lie slipped off my tongue effortlessly.

The leader's eyes soften slightly at my admission as he slowly eyed me up and down. I knew I was filthy so it wasn't a stretch to imagine I had been alone in the woods for some time. While the leader relaxed some at my admission the same could not be said for Mr. Dark and Broody. He still looked like he wanted to shoot first, shoot some more, then maybe ask a question or get a sandwich. Two figures ran up from behind the group, their eyes wide as they took in the scene. The old man looked confused holding his rifle as his thoughtful eyes took in my appearance, and the blonde haired woman just looked annoyed. Boy, I sure could pick 'em.

"What branch of the military?"

"Army," I answered automatically. "Military intelligence." Not a lie, but not exactly the truth either.

"Why aren't you with your unit now if you're military?" Mr. Dark and Broody hissed, accusation evident in his tone and hostility dripping from every word. I felt Legolas' body go rigid next to me as his eyes flicked to Mr. Dark and Broody. Note to self, even the redneck didn't trust that guy.

"I was on leave in Atlanta when it started. By the time I got out there was no military left to go back to."

The leader and his right hand man shared a look, some kind of unspoken communication taking place between them. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see there were some serious cracks in that bromance by the way they muttered in harsh tones. When they came to some kind of understanding the leader nodded slightly to the group who, in turn, lowered their weapons.

"I'm Rick Grimes," the leader stated, stepping forward, offering me his hand. "You seem to be able to handle yourself in a fight." I shrugged noncommittally, awkwardly shaking his hand. Who did that anymore?

"Shot my deer from 'bout 200 yards away," Legolas added, "Dead 'tween the eyes."

" _My_ deer," I muttered, winking at him. He rolled his eyes in return.

Rick peered over my right shoulder, inspecting the carnage behind me, his eyes thoughtful and calculating. "Listen, I can't promise anything, but having someone like you in our group could be an asset for us, and offer protection for you. I need some time to think, to talk it over with the others. I'm sorry, but I can't just let you walk away now that you know we're here. It's too dangerous for our group. You'll stay here tonight, and we'll see how things shake out."

It didn't escape my attention he wasn't offering me a choice rather an ultimatum, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't dog tired. The thought of leaving now and finding a safe place to spend the night made me feel downright exhausted. I nodded once, and the group let out a collective exhale. Rick stepped forward collecting my weapons and pack, and at least had the good manners to send me a semi-apologetic look as he handed them off to the old man. I frowned, but knew there was little I could do about. Besides, if it came down to it I didn't need my weapons to fight, but I would keep that to myself for now.

Rick nodded at Legolas and Mr. Dark and Broody and they walked a few feet away, probably discussing the "plan" for what to do with me. Mr. Dark and Broody was clearly pissed if his arms' flailing around was any indication, but Rick just shook his head. Mr. Dark and Broody scoffed, turning and retreating towards the farmhouse, his long legs chewing up the distance. Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair, turning to Legolas. A few words were exchanged and everyone turned to leave, questions and accusations flying back-and-forth between the group as I watched them trek back towards the farm. Legolas walked back to me, grabbing my arm and pulling me along beside him. I let him lead me towards a shed that was adjacent to a huge barn where he flung the door open, ushering me inside. It may technically be classified as a shed, but this thing was bigger than my first apartment. It wasn't exactly The Hilton, but I had slept in worse places. He led me deeper into the shed, his hand never leaving my arm.

"Daryl," Mr. Dark and Broody called from the door, tossing him a pair of handcuffs. My hackles rose as I realized their intentions. These assholes were going to handcuff me, in a shed, in the middle of the apocalypse? I looked at Mr. Dark and Broody who gave me a condescending smirk as he turned and left.

"So, your name's Daryl," I stated, looking at the man in question who continue to pull me towards a metal pole on the side of the shed. He didn't response so I continued, "Don't get me wrong, it's nice, but Legolas has more flare. Know what I mean?" He continued to ignore me, positioning me next to the pole and looking at me expectantly. When I just stared back he sighed.

"Ya gonna do this the easy way or the hard way Red?"

"Definitely the hard way."

If he thought I was going to let him handcuff me to a post like a damn dog he had another thing coming. There was a better chance of Helen Keller finding Waldo. Shaking his head he tried to grab my hands and pull them around the pole. As soon as his hand touched my arm I twisted it over quickly, throwing him off balance. Spinning around I swept his legs out from under him and he landed hard on his back, the wind whooshing out of his lungs painfully. He recovered quickly, scampering back to his feet, murder in his eyes. I smiled at him, raising my eyebrows.

"How ya think this is gonna end woman? There's 15 of us and one of ya. Ain't gettin' away unless we let ya." He stalked forward like a predator, but there was hesitation in his eyes. He was trying to figure out how to subdue me without actually hurting me. In that moment it was painfully obvious that Daryl was a good man.

"Who said anything about getting away? I agreed to spend the night here not be kenneled."

"Ain't safe to let ya walk 'round camp. We don't know ya. Could kill us all in our sleep."

"You people have some serious trust issues." I countered his steps to the side with one of my own.

"The world we live in. Best get use to it."

He wasn't wrong. They didn't know me or what kind of person I was, and this was not the world we knew. People were dangerous. Geeks were dangerous. Everything was dangerous.

He lunged towards me, his muscular arms wrapping around my waist as he attempted to tackle me to the ground. He was bigger and stronger so letting him get me on my back was not an option. I used his momentum against him, wrapping my arms around his upper chest and rocking backwards even faster as I let us fall to the ground. I bucked my hips when we landed sending him crashing over my head in a heap. Jumping up I took advantage of his momentary disorientation, grabbing one of his arms and twisting it painfully behind his back, driving him face down into the ground.

"I know the world we live in. Probably better than you," I hissed in his ear. "I wasn't getting a tan and drinking mojito's on a beach even before the world ended, but if there's one thing I know it's that you don't inspire trust by chaining someone up." Daryl squirmed under me attempting to break my hold, a flurry of profanity and threats spilling from his lips that was impressive and useless. I pressed my knee in-between his shoulder blades rendering him immobile. "If I wanted to hurt any of you I could have done it a thousand times over by now."

I released him just as quickly as I pinned him, standing up and walking back to the metal pole where I snatched the handcuffs off the floor. Wrapping my hands around the pole I locked the handcuffs onto each wrist before sinking down to the floor. Daryl picked himself off the floor with as much dignity as he could muster, his face the picture of retribution, but when he saw me handcuffed to the pole he faltered. His brows furrowed in confusion as he blinked rapidly, trying to figure me out. He walked towards me, careful to stay out of reach.

"What game ya playing?" His tone was laced with suspicion. I let my head fall back against the barn, closing my eyes as I stretched my legs out in front of me.

"No game Hawkeye. You wanted me cuffed to the pole. I'm cuffed to the pole. I just wasn't going to let you do it. I did it because it was my choice, and choice is about all we have left in this world. I'll be damned if I let you take it from me." He stayed silent, his breathing the only indication he was still there. Just when I thought he was going to say something or leave he leaned forward, grabbing each cuff and squeezing them a few clicks tighter. Cracking my eyes open I glared at him, "Was that really necessary?"

"Can't have ya slippin' 'em cause they're too loose."

I snorted, "Got news for you, if I want out of these things I'll be out no matter how tight they are. Now, if we're done here can you leave? I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in days."

Silence was his response for a solid 30 seconds before I heard his retreating footsteps heading towards the barn door. When he opened it slightly the setting sun's rays splashed across the barn, making me turn my head away as I tried in vain to find a comfortable position on the hard ground.

"Ya really been on yur own this whole time?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

I didn't open my eyes, didn't look at him, but I knew he was watching me. I had no idea what he was looking for, but after a few moments he either found it or gave up because the barn door started to close.

"Get some rest Red, gonna need it."

With that he left and I was alone, again.

* * *

 **Hi everyone, thanks for checking this out! Much appreciated.**

 **The premise is pretty straight forward...the farm falls and the group is forced back on the road. What exactly happens between the farm and...everything else.**

 **As always, I don't own anything except Alex, her shenanigans, and my original plot details.  
**


	3. The Hunter or the Hunted

**The Hunter or the Hunted**

 _Listen to me Haley, we have to do this. Do you understand?"_

 _I looked at my sister's tear streaked face and tried to offer a reassuring smile. She was shaking so hard I was surprised her bones weren't shattering with each convulsion. If ever there was a gentle soul it was my baby sister, and I loved that about her. Her outlook on life, her optimism, her spirit, it was simply contagious. She was, in a nutshell, everything I wasn't._ _Where I was hard and unyielding, she was forgiving and kind. While I was sarcastic and un-trusting, she was made friends with everyone in the room. She was untouched by the cruelty of the world. Too young to remember our shattered childhood and I was glad for that, but if there was ever someone who was utterly unprepared for the dead to rise up it was her. She couldn't drive past road kill without bursting into tears and wanting to have a "proper funeral", and now here we were literally surrounded by the undead getting ready to fight our way out. Well, I was going to fight our way out. She was going to run like hell and not look back. That was the plan anyway._

 _"Tell me again," I prompted, holding her face between my hands to keep her eyes from darting about the deadly scene playing out in the streets of Atlanta._

 _She swallowed hard, her eyes closing briefly. "When you say to I'm going to run for the truck. I don't stop. I don't look back." She sniffed, new tears welling up in her beautiful brown eyes. "You'll distract them until I'm there, but if you can't make it back then I...then I..." she trailed off, another round of sobs escaping._

" _You what Haley?" I asked, my tone harsh as I shook her. It broke my heart when she flinched, but I needed her to say it._ _To understand and not hesitate._

" _I leave," she cried, sobbing into my shoulder as she pulled her to me. Sighing, I rubbed her back before pulling her head away so I could look at her._

" _We're gonna make Haley. You just run for that truck and don't stop, no matter what. Get inside, get it started, and I'll be right behind you. We're getting out of here, and you're going to be fine."_

 _It was the only lie I ever told my sister._

I jolted awake, sitting upright so fast my head spun. When was the last time I ate? Yesterday? The day before? I honestly couldn't remember. I could see the sun rising as I peeked between the gaps of wood in the prison, I mean shed, and figured it was still early. Running my hands through my hair I tried to shake the nightmare. Flopping back on the ground I closed my eyes and willed the past from my mind. Thinking about that day in Atlanta was not something I could do right now. There would be time for "what if's" and regret later when I was alone and could continue to mourn in private. If I was judging my captors right they would be making an appearance shortly, and the last thing I wanted them to witness was weakness.

Weakness got you killed.

Taking a few deep breaths I let my body relax, and just enjoy the feeling of safety, if only for a moment, even if it wasn't real. I might die in a few minutes or maybe tomorrow, but right now, in this shed I wasn't facing an imminent threat, and that was something. Living life one second at a time was a rite of passage these days. Anyone who said otherwise was either stupid or dead. From outside I heard footsteps approaching, the shed door opened with a groan and a creak as two people made their way inside.

"I thought you said she was handcuffed?" That outraged voice sounded like Rick. Fearless leader come to lay down the law no doubt.

"She was!" Definitely Daryl. There was no mistaking that southern twang. If I lived 100 lifetimes I'd never forget the sound of it. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get this show on the road. Hopefully whatever they planned to do they'd do quickly.

"Ugh, can you two talk about this outside? I was having the best dream," I yawned, halting their conversation. That was a bold face lie if I ever told one, but they did not need to know that.

Stretching, I arched my back then sat up slowly with a groan as my body protested the night spent on the hard packed ground. My hair fell into my face as I rubbed the sleep from eyes before scooting back against the wall near my pole. It was only after I looked at Daryl and Rick that I noticed how tense and quiet they both were. Daryl had his crossbow lowered in front of him, but he had an arrow notched and ready. Rick's hand was hovering over the holster of his weapon, an indecipherable look on his face. It took me a minute to understand why. I was alone in the shed, unarmed, and the two of them were standing there looking ready for a Men of the Apocalypse calendar shoot. The sun sparkled off of something on the ground and I looked down at the handcuffs I discarded at some point last night.

Well, that was probably the issue.

"Boy, you two sure are jumpy," I teased, reaching down and grabbing the handcuffs. "Want me to put them back on before you pop a blood vessel?" I was already wrapping my hands around the pole when Rick stopped me.

"That won't be necessary," he told me, glancing at Daryl with disapproval. "Clearly they're a waste of time."

"How'd ya get outta them cuffs?" Daryl questioned, stepping forward, grabbing the pole and shaking it a bit to see if it was secure.

"Not like that Merida," I answered, trying and failing to hold in a laugh. "Have you ever tried sleeping handcuffed to a pole?"

Silence.

"Oh, kinky, I like that," I joked and he tensed instantly, stepping away from me. His face was hard, but the tips of his ears were red with embarrassment. Deciding to have mercy on him I continued, "I couldn't get comfortable, and I tried, really I did, but it wasn't happening so I took them off so I could sleep."

Both men stared at me like I had a dick growing out of my forehead.

"You just took them off?" Rick asked in disbelief. I shrugged in response, standing up and stretching my hands over my head. Rick just shook his head like the math didn't compute and Daryl kept staring at the pole like it held the secret to life.

"So, I take it you're here to deliver the verdict?" I directed the question to Rick. He just continued to look at me, watching my face too intently for someone who wasn't accustomed to reading people's tells. "Listen, I understand your need to be cautious. Believe me, if anyone understands it it's me, but if I wanted to hurt any of you I would have done it already."

He nodded, "I know and I appreciate that."

"You don't have to thank me for being a decent human being." Especially since I wasn't one, hadn't been for a long time.

"I do. It isn't a given nowadays, so again, thank you."

"You're welcome," I offered, shifting my weight from foot-to-foot, uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutiny and compliment. "So, am I free to go?"

"Actually, we were hoping you'd consider staying," Rick answered. I couldn't have been more surprised if they'd walked in here an offered me a lap dance. Stay here? Be a part of their group? I was expecting them to kill me or release me, and maybe throw in a meal if I was really luck. You know, last request and all, but stay? No, that had not crossed my mind as a reality.

"Huh?" Good job Alex, real eloquent. Rick smiled, his eyes darting to Daryl who was still standing behind me trying to figure out my parlor trick.

"We could use someone like you. You're smart, have training, and know how to hunt. People like that are in short supply."

"So, I'm first round draft pick material, huh?" Rick laughed and Daryl snorted. Glancing over my shoulder I winked at him. He just rolled his eyes, strapping his crossbow onto his shoulders as he pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket. I hadn't really considered the prospect of a group. Mainly because I'd never been in one. I came across some here and there, and in my experience they came in two varieties: they were either bad fucking news or about as useful as a pogo stick in quick sand.

Rick looked like a fair man with sound judgment, but he was off his rocker on this one. They'd known me for less than 24 hours and in that time I threatened to kill Daryl (repeatedly), gone all Silence of the Lambs on a herd of geeks, and broke the "stay handcuffed to the pole" rule.

"But you don't even know me? I could be some psycho killer and you're just going to welcome me with open arms into a group with women and children? I couldn't even follow your rules for one night, and now you are offering me a place with you?" I gestured towards the discarded handcuffs.

"Ain't exactly helping yur case Red," Daryl offered, cocking an eyebrow. "Sides, already said it yurself, if ya wanted to hurt anyone you'd a done it by now."

I waved him off, "Shut it Hanna."

I paced back-and-forth across the shed, considering the offer. It was tempting. Compared to me these people were thriving, whatever the fuck that meant these days, and there was something to be said for strength in numbers.

"What if I don't want to be part of your group?" I asked, pausing my incessant pacing.

Rick shrugged, "Then you're free to go. We'll have to blindfold you and drive you a ways off so you don't find your way back, but we'd do you no harm."

They would blindfold me then drive me somewhere and dump me on the side of the road? That was their grand plan if I refused? That was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard, and I'd heard some dumb shit. They could drop me off at the top of Everest, and I'd still be able to find my way here with my eyes closed.

"How have you people survived this long?" I scoffed. "Of all the stupid, reckless..."

"The fact you're concerned shows we're right about you," Rick stated. My eyes found his and I shook my head.

"No, it doesn't. Maybe I'm just trying to keep my karma balanced for the afterlife."

"Ya could start an argument in an empty house," Daryl commented, puffing out some smoke as he leaned causally against the shed.

"Where did you get that? A redneck fortune cookie?" He wasted no time flipping me the bird which I promptly returned.

"There's a little girl missing," Rick spoke up, interrupting Daryl and my sign language session. "She's 12 years-old, her name is Sophia."

"Missing? Missing how? Where?" Whatever thoughts of how incredible stupid these people were flew out the window.

"We ran into a herd on the highway not far from here. She got scared, came out of hiding too early and they chased her into the woods."

"How long has she been gone?" I questioned.

"Few days," Daryl answered, his tone different than I'd ever heard. He clearly cared about the little girl.

"Why are you telling me?"

Rick's face remained impassive as he continued. Man he was playing me like fiddle. "Figured with your skills you could head out today with Daryl, see what you find. You two are our best chance of finding her."

That was funny. I didn't remember buying tickets to this guilt trip. Apparently Rick didn't care. That bastard was probably CEO of that particular travel agency.

I sighed heavily, "Fine, but I want my stuff back."

I heard Daryl flick his cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with his muddy boot. "Not a chance in hell Red," he muttered as he walked past me out of the shed. My eyes widened at Rick who looked uncomfortable with the prospect of being alone in a small space with me after that little bombshell.

"You're sending me out there defenseless?"

"From what Daryl told me about last night you're hardly defenseless." Well, that was what I got for showing off. "Besides, Daryl will be with you."

"Daryl will be with me?!" My voice was an octave too high as I took a step closer to Rick. "Is that supposed to be comforting? Rick, I'm going to need you take a minute and rub two brain cells together for me, OK? I'm willing to help find the little girl. Hell, I'm willing to consider your offer of staying, but sending me without a weapon is crazy. What am I supposed to defend myself with, my charm?"

"Let's hope not," he answered with a smile, turning his back on me and striding out of the shed.

What in the actual fuck?

 ** _A few hours later..._**

Daryl paused at the pantry, lifting his fingers to his lips to indicate I should be quiet, and I rolled my eyes. I swear out of all my body parts my eyes were in the best shape of all given how much of a workout they received on the daily. For about the millionth time in the past few hours he shot daggers at me as I held my hands trying to communicate something along the lines of, _"how the fuck do you expect me to react to that dumb shit?"_. I swear we could have an entire conversation with no words whatsoever.

Shaking his head at me he turned around, opening the door slightly, peering inside with his crossbow ready before deeming it safe, and swinging it open wide. The contents of the pantry had me leaving my spot against the counter where I was plotting Daryl's demise and coming closer. Inside the small, cramped space were a pillow and blanket. Someone had slept here.

A small someone.

Could be a child.

Maybe Sophia.

Maybe a Hobbit.

Glancing towards the trashcan I started rifling through the contents on top. Grabbing the empty sardine can I showed it to Daryl who promptly sniffed it.

"Still fresh," he stated.

I shook my head in agreement, and we began systematically checking the entire house. When we found nothing but a walker trapped in an upstairs bedroom that most definitely was not Sophia we decided to head back to the Greene farm. I felt a twinge of disappointment at not finding the little girl, but this was a good lead. Our first lead since her tracks had abruptly stopped back at the highway according to Daryl.

We walked side-by-side towards the tree line, making our way back to the farm. Daryl's eyes were alert as he constantly scanned the area for any sign of danger or Sophia. I didn't think we would find her here, if she was ever here. Something had driven her away from the safety of this place, and she wasn't likely to come back. As we reached the tree line I turned to Daryl, snapping off my pack which, much to my loud disapproval, held nothing but provisions.

"Hold this for a sec will you?" I asked, tossing him the bag. It hit him in the shoulder before falling to the ground. "Or not." I began walking the opposite direction, but was stopped when a rough, calloused hand clamped down on my wrist.

"Where the hell ya goin'?" He was equal parts confused and suspicious. Apparently a day alone in the woods walking behind him and not trying to kill him or run away wasn't enough to inspire trust in Daryl Dixon.

"The little girl's room," I answered. He looked downright puzzled for five seconds before understanding flooded his face, along with an adorable blush. Jeez, if peeing freaked this guy out I was going to have the time of my life with him.

He released my arm like it burned him, retreated back a few steps before snapping at me, "Hurry up."

I gave him sarcastic thumbs up to which he just scowled, and I laughed as I turned and made my way deeper into the woods. I wasn't shy, but I also wasn't going to pop a squat as he sat there and smoked. That's something you did on a second date. It only took me a few minutes to find a suitable place, free of poison oak and dead people to take care of business and within five minutes I was making my way back. The voices caught my attention, my steps slowing before stopping altogether. Two of them. Gruff, loud, alive, and definitely not Daryl.

Instantly I dropped to a crouch, moving slowly behind the cover of trees as I crept back towards where I left him. Peering around a tree I saw Daryl on his knees, crossbow on the ground a few feet away, a gun pressed against his head. His lip was cut, a small trickle of blood trailing down his face as he look at the two men with murder in his eyes. Only Daryl could be on his knees, facing execution, and still think he had the upper hand.

The men looked rough, their clothes in tatters, faces smeared with dirt and things I did not want to think about. They looked somewhat fit, but had clearly preferred beer to exercise prior to this if their beer bellies were any indication. One at a time I looked them over, cataloguing each and every weapon they had on them. They looked older than both of us, but it was hard to judge anyone's age anymore. The one holding a gun to Daryl's head had a knife strapped to his hip, and a baseball bat at his feet. The other, who was standing directly in front of Daryl, had a gun holstered at his hip and some kind of homemade melee weapon in his hands. I reached down for my knife only to remember I was not packing any heat today.

"Don't worry, Daryl will be with you." I mocked Rick's earlier words, muttering quietly to myself. My mood instantly changing from cranky to cranky with a touch of psycho.

I was as rough and tumble as the next guy, but taking on two armed assailants without getting Daryl a bullet in the forehead in the process was asking a little much. My mind raced as I tried to figure out a way to save us both, but it wasn't until the men started talking that I found my opening.

"What the hell you doin' here boy? You alone?" the man standing in front of Daryl snarled.

"Fuck ya!"

That earned him another right hook to the jaw, and I cringed as I watched his head snap back. Always a way with words this one. Although, that was two more words than he spoke to me in the entire first half of the day. Until now I was convinced grunting was his sole form of communication.

The man laughed, "Tough guy, huh? OK, we can do that too." The man retreated from Daryl and walked slowly over to my pack. He pulled open the zipper and upended the contents onto the ground. Our water bottles, jerky, bandages, and other necessities spilling out. "What do we have here?"

"Anything good?" the man holding the gun asked. The leader squatted down rifling through every part of the bag until he let out a cackle that made my skin crawl.

"Well, would you look at this?" He stalked towards Daryl slowly, something concealed in his hand. "I don't think you've been truthful with me boy. In fact, I think you've been holding out."

"I ain't with nobody," Daryl growled.

The leader smirked, "Oh I beg to differ, or are you on your period?" He tossed something at Daryl whose face seemed to pale as he looked at the object. I shifted from my position to get a look at whatever he threw and froze when I saw it.

A tampon.

Fuck my life.

My grandmother always said being a woman would kill me someday.

"Got that pack off some dead bitch a few miles back," Daryl insisted, "Ain't had time to go through it yet." As explanations went it wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but it was a Hail Mary and those rarely worked.

"Is that so?" the leader questioned, clearly not buying it. "Looks like a lot of food and water for one person." This piece of shit was more observant than I gave him credit for initially.

"I'm only gonna ask you once more, then I'm gonna hurt you, where did you stash your piece of ass?" He roughly grabbed Daryl's hair, pulling his head back to a painful angle, his melee weapon raised.

"Long gone."

The leader laughed without humor, his huge body tight with tension ready to be unleashed on Daryl. I would not, could not, let that happen. The thought of watching these men beat him to death in front of me was simply out of the question. I looked at him and found his eyes already on me. Of course he saw me, his hunter eyes missed nothing.

My lips pulled into a thin line as I inched closer, rapidly looking between each of the men and Daryl. As if sensing my thoughts he blinked twice rapidly, a clear signal for no. He didn't move other than that, but his intent was clear. He was telling me to leave him. I almost snorted in disbelief. I blinked back at him once and his eyes hardened, his piercing blue orbs penetrating into me, asking me, no begging me to listen.

"Hey baby, it's alright!" the leader called out to me, sharing a leering look with is partner. "We ain't gonna hurt you. Why don't you come on out sweetheart? We can help you." That sounded about as appealing as a trap door on a canoe.

I took a few deep breathes and gathered myself. This was either going to be the stuff of legends or a fail of epic proportions. I may be weaponless, but I was far from defenseless. They would underestimate me, and it was going to save both our lives.

I tried to put a fake tremor in my voice as I yelled, "I'm coming out. Please...don't hurt me." Standing up slowly from my hiding spot I walked forward. The two men spotted me instantly and the look on their faces made me vomit. There was no mistaking their intentions.

"Please," I whimpered, cringing internally at my act, "Just let him go. We don't want any trouble."

"Holy shit, are you seeing this Russel?" the leader asked, making his way to me. "I can see why you're hiding her boy." His eyes traveled slowly up and down my body. On the second pass I had to physical restrain myself from tearing off his nuts and shoving them down his throat. Scared, helpless women didn't do things like that. "You are one fine piece of tail sugar. Shit, even before all this you would have been worth top dollar." Guess it was good to know I had a fallback career.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt us," I sniffled, trying to squeeze out at least one fake tear. I made my hands shake and kept a look of fear plastered on my face. The leader barked out a laugh, tossing his melee weapon behind him on the ground. One minute in and he was already discarding weapons. He was _sooo_ thinking with the wrong head.

"Oh, I know you will honey." He stalked towards me, licking his lips in what I was sure he considered a seductive manner. I curled into myself in an effort to contain my disdain. When he was right in front of me he ran the back of his hand down my face, and this time I didn't have to fake the flinch as his offensive odor spilled over me, choking me.

"Don'tcha fuckin' touch her!" Daryl growled, but the other man kept the gun firmly pressed against his temple reminding him of his predicament.

They hadn't restrained him otherwise, and that was a mistake on their part. Daryl was dangerous when he needed to be, anyone with eyes should be able to see that. He was a protector, a hunter, and even though we just met he felt responsible for me while we were out here so he would fight tooth and nail to bring me back unharmed. If they thought holding a gun to his head was enough to subdue him they were delusional. They could have chained him to a tree with an anchor and he would probably still find a way to rain down fire and brimstone.

The leader grabbed my arms, pulling me flush against him as he buried his face in my hair, inhaling deep. His hands traveled up to my ponytail as he roughly pulled the band out, my hair spilling down my back and over my shoulders. His hands roamed all over my body, tugging and pinching to the point of pain. He smelled like alcohol, sweat, and the dead. I held my breath, trying to ignore his putrid stench.

"I'm gonna make you scream honey," he purred in my ear as I turned my head further away, trying to create distance where there was none. My eyes found Daryl's and his face held a look of barely contained panic. His muscles so rigid he looked like he might explode at any moment. I held his gaze, the tremble of my hands not faked anymore.

"It's OK Daryl," I told him, giving him a weak, shaky smile. It was the first time I had used his actual name and I hoped it would break through his anger fueled haze. I needed him to stay calm. To wait for the right moment. "You know me. I'll be fine."

"Enough with this shit, time to get down to business," the leader snapped, grabbing my breasts roughly and squeezing. I yelped in pain, pushing against the brute of a man who only seemed more excited now that I was fighting. "Oh yeah baby, scream, that makes it so much better."

I answered by spitting in his face. Not the smartest or most eloquent move, but I had to keep up the charade and all. His eyes got wide as he slowly wiped his face before looking at me in astonishment. Hard to believe I was the first woman to snub his advances and by the look of fury in his eyes he wasn't taking it well. With practiced precision born of a man who was well acquainted with beaten women he backhanded me across the face so hard my teeth rattled and I flew back, falling hard on my side. He wasted no time climbing on top of me with a psychotic grin.

"You like it rough?" he mocked, slamming his lips against mine as I struggled underneath him. I tasted blood as his tongue pushed into my mouth roughly. He pulled back, a hazy lust clouding his eyes that made me start to really panic.

"Rougher than you've got pencil dick."

He landed a punishing right hook across my cheek that made my vision explode into nothing but blackness for a moment. Vomit rolled in my stomach at the disorientation, and I willed myself to not black out. Unconsciousness would be bad at this particular moment. I could barely hear Daryl's roars of outrage in the background over the rushing in my ears. Momentarily stunned, all I could do was lay there trying to right my vision and regain the use of my limbs while the man pulled at my shirt, trying to expose my breasts.

When I looked back up at him he just grinned, proud of himself as he ran his filthy hands over the bare skin of my waist. I shook my head trying to shake myself out of my stupor. He must not consider me much of a threat at the moment because he didn't even bother to restrain my hands as he hastily worked to undo his belt. The sound of his zipper opening was all it took to spur me to action.

Without warning my left hand shot up into his face, my palm striking a direct hit underneath his nose. A strangled _"oomph"_ puffed out of his mouth as he jolted backwards slightly, sitting up, his hands covering his now bleeding nose. Before he could even consider where the strike had come from I was moving, sitting up as much as his bulk would allow as I reached for the weapon on his hip. My hand closed around the butt of his gun and I wasted no time yanking it out and cocking the hammer back. I shoved the barrel directly under his chin and pulled the trigger without a second thought, his head exploding like a bomb. The shot rang out, birds scattered out of the nearby trees. Blood and bits of brain smeared across my face, and I closed my eyes and mouth, turning my head away. His hulking mass fell forward, trapping me beneath him as blood continued to trickle down on me. I tugged on my legs while I pushed on his shoulders in an effort to get away I heard the sounds of a scuffle to my right then a single gunshot echoed through the woods.

Daryl.

Fear the likes of which I was unable to process coursed through me as I wiggled out from under the dead man and I rose to my knees, weapon aimed in their direction. My breathing was coming in shallow pants as I prayed to anyone listening to please save him, let it not be him who was dead.

I should have known better than to worry because all I saw was an extremely angry Daryl walking swiftly towards me, gun in his hand, the other man dead on the ground behind him. I exhaled sharply, rocking back on my heels, my chin falling against my chest, weapon clattering to the ground. A pair of strong arms grabbed my shoulders and hoisted me up, pulling my shirt down in the process to cover me. Green eyes met blue as we both just looked at each other, breathing hard. His eyes scanned my face with analytical detachment, but I saw him wince slightly. That didn't bode well for the current state of affairs on my face.

"Are you OK?" I asked, taking in his appearance. The cut on his lip didn't look too deep, but his left eye was already turning a nasty shade of blue. That one would one for the photo album. For a minute I didn't think he would answer. I watched as he cycled through every expression known to man.

Fear.

Relief.

Anxiety.

Anger.

Figures that'd be the one he's settle on. With Daryl you could always count on anger.

"Am I OK?" he shouted, "Ya were damn near raped in front of my eyes and yur askin' if I'm OK?"

I cringed at the reminder. I could still feel that bastards hands all over my body and his hard, chapped mouth on mine. I was going to need to bathe in bleach and gargle with disinfectant when we got back.

"What was I supposed to do?" I fired back, my own anger reeving up. In a fight between mad and scared mad would win every time. His eyes bulged so wide I was surprised they didn't fall out of his head.

"Yur supposed to be smart!"

"I'd say this was pretty damn smart!" I yelled, waving my hands around at the scene before us. If I had a microphone I would have dropped it right at his feet. Had he missed the two dead guys? "Not much else I could have done given the circumstances."

"Bullshit."

"Well, from where I was sitting there weren't a lot of options you ungrateful hick! Your life was one the line. I wasn't about to save my own ass and leave you die on your knees at the hands of those assholes. Nuh-uh. No way!"

I shook my head back-and-forth to emphasize my point, but had to stop when pain flared against my skull making me clutch my head in my hands. The headache building behind my eyes was so intense dots were dancing across my field of vision and my stomach swam with queasiness. Daryl's anger instantly deflated and was replaced with concern.

"Ya a'right?" he asked, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

"Yeah," I lied.

"Liar." _I was scared._

"Redneck." _So was I._

"Bitch." _Don't ever do that again._

"Asshole." _No promises._

His lips twitched in amusement and I felt myself smile in return. The last twinges of adrenaline were wearing off now and I felt cold and shaky.

"Ya shakin' like a leaf." Thanks Captain Obvious.

"It's just the adrenaline high fading." That was a lie I would tell myself a lot in the coming months. I owned property in the Land of Denial.

He didn't look overly convinced, but he let the matter drop, not much either of us could do about it anyway. He walked over to one of our discarded water bottles, opening it as he pulled a strip of cloth from his back pocket, soaking it with water. I watched as he made his way back over, gently tucking my hair behind my ears before wiping the blood from my face, careful of each bruise. Soft and Daryl Dixon were not two words that went together in my book. It was like Sunday without football. It made no sense. If I wasn't experiencing it firsthand I wouldn't have believed it. Even now I was halfway convinced I was dreaming.

The man before me was a contradiction, wrapped up in an enigma, stuffed inside an anomaly. That harbored an unnatural bias toward sleeves.

Neither of us spoke, but once his ministrations were done he silently turned, gathering up the contents of my spilled pack before picking up his crossbow. Almost on autopilot I walked towards the man I killed, searching him and his belongings for anything useful: weapons, ammo, food, medicine. He didn't have much, but I took what he did have. Finders keepers and all. When I was done I saw Daryl standing behind me ready to go. I looked at the weapons in my hand then back at him before stepping forward and holding them out. He glanced briefly at them before nodding his head and handing me my pack.

"Keep 'em," he said. I nodded, tucking the knife into one of my pockets before checking how many rounds were left in the pistol. Daryl had already started the long trek back to camp, and I diligently strapped on my pack to follow. He hadn't gone far before he stopped abruptly and turned to face me.

"Why didn't ya leave?" All the unspoken words hung in the air between us.

You barely know me.

You could have died.

Yesterday you wanted to kill me.

My gut reaction was to make light of the situation, to blow it off with some kind of lame ass joke, but looking at the seriousness on Daryl's face made the quip lodged in my throat. He wanted an answer, but I wasn't sure I could give him one because I didn't understand why I did it either. He was right, he was nothing to me, nothing but a stranger, and yet I risked my life to save him. That wasn't something you did in this world. Not anymore. In the world before, bravery, loyalty, and compassion used to be the litmus test of a good person. Desirable traits. Now they were liabilities that could get you killed.

In this world you owed nothing to anyone but yourself. The only goal each miserable day to somehow find a way to survive to the next. Funny how surviving doesn't look much like living when you have that kind of mindset. It was more like living in purgatory, stuck between two realms, belonging in neither.

One thing I learned in the past 24 hours was there was a huge difference between surviving and living. Yesterday I was just existing, struggling to figure out how I fit in this new reality. Now, after only a short time with this group I was doing something else entirely.

As I hide in the trees, knowing with soul wrenching certainty that Daryl was going to die for the first time in months my thoughts were not for my own life, my safety, my ability to survive to the next day. Only one thought had ricocheted through my mind...not him.

"Because I couldn't let you die."

Sometimes you don't need long-winded explanations. Sometimes things just were the way they were. Daryl dying was unacceptable. That was all there was to it. He didn't speak. Hell, I wasn't even sure he was breathing. We stood there looking at each other until he turned on his heel walking away without another word. I held my hands out in exasperation. Really, that was all I got? I mean, I dropped some serious feels and nothing?

"Come on Red."

As I dutifully trudged behind him all I could think about was how I liked it better when he was only grunting.


	4. Run Baby Run

**Run Baby Run**

 _ **3 Weeks Later...**_

Losing the farm was a real punch in the tits. Losing our people was like having an organ removed without anesthetic. Especially Sophia. I would never forget the sight of her small, battered, dead body shuffling out of the barn or the sound of Carol's anguished wails of sorrow.

I might not have lived there long and I hadn't known them well at the time, but even I knew we had something special. The people and the place. In my experience nothing good ever lasts, and unfortunately the same was true for the Greene farm. We'd been on the move constantly since then, living like nomads as Rick chased the mirage of safety. I wanted to believe there was somewhere out there we could make a life, but as days blurred into weeks I wasn't sure places like that existed anymore.

Surviving like this was less than ideal, but I lived this type of life before in the military, especially during deployments, but the others were unaccustomed to the anxiety, fear and exhaustion that stems from not knowing where your next meal would come from or where you would sleep that night. Those feelings spread like a cancer, slowly eating away at your will to continue from the inside out.

Sighing, I looked out the window in the backseat as Glenn drove down the winding back roads of Georgia. I couldn't believe after everything I ended up in this group. Well, if I was being honest I couldn't believe they accepted me. I was woman enough to admit I was a hot mess on my best day and a complete nightmare on my worst, but somehow I found a place here. Acceptance. It freaked me out on the daily.

For the first few days after I was officially released from the shed I contemplated leaving, skipping out in the middle of the night without even so much as a goodbye. It wasn't the group, the people, it was me, I knew that. I didn't play well with others, and I had been alone for so long my ineptitude at human interaction was constantly on display. Lori threatened a swear jar if I didn't find a way to stop cussing around Carl, I made Carol nervous with my blasé attitude towards everything, and T-Dog's taste in superhero's was just plain irrational.

So I went little nuts.

A couple of times.

I ran off in the dead of night only to be tracked down, in a depressing amount of time I might add, by Daryl. I swear the man had taken some kind of blood oath where I was concerned. He always knew where I was, what I was doing, and especially when I was feeling unease. It was the only way to explain his odd behavior.

The strangest part was every time he found me he simply scanned me for injuries, sat down beside me and never said a word. He didn't ask questions, never tried to pull the _why_ out of me. I think it was because he already knew. Daryl understood me because he was just like me. He had been hurt, broken, and found a way to put himself back together. This was his way of doing the same for me. I didn't need saving, I just needed to be accepted for exactly who I was, and Daryl could give me that.

Rick didn't understand it. _"I've seen you calm in the most intense situations, but when everything is OK, relatively speaking, you lose it."_ All I could do was shrug and go to timeout like a good girl. I never claimed to make sense. I basically ran on denial, sarcasm, and irrational thoughts.

The others took my running personally. It made me sick they felt it had something to do with them, but nothing was further from the truth. This group had changed everything. They changed me and it was terrifying. I hadn't known saving Daryl's life would alter the course of my own so drastically. That one act, saving his life at the expense of my own, was all it took to become one of them. Apparently acting firsts and thinking later was the price of admission for this ride.

Slowly people who were once enemies had become strangers with hesitant conversation filled with awkward silence. As time progressed the nameless faces morphed into fast friends. One day I woke up, looked at the bedraggled, exhausted group and realized with stark clarity they were so much more. They were family. A fucked up, dysfunctional, highly volatile family, but family nonetheless.

The realization was like a sucker punch to the gut. Having a group, a family was good, great even, but caring about people meant the inevitable hurt that came from losing them. There were perks to being alone in this world. I had to constantly remind myself when I felt the urge to bail that surviving was not living, and if I wasn't going to live then what was the point?

"So what's going on with you and Daryl?" Glenn asked, his eyes glancing at me in the rear-view mirror pulling me out of my own head.

Maggie instantly turned around in the front seat, hands thumping excitedly on the seat as she grinned like a total creeper.

I looked back and forth between them in confusion, "What do you mean what's going on with me a Netiryi?"

Glenn snorted in amusement, but Maggie just narrowed her eyes at me. It was like she was attempting to peer into my soul to drag the truth out whether I wanted to volunteer it or not. I swear that woman was part witch doctor.

"Don't play dumb Alex, it's clear as day when you two are around each other that there's tension," Maggie added, grinning even wider.

"Yeah there's tension. He's an unreasonable, antisocial, emotionally stunted redneck, that's bound to create tension." Glenn rolled his eyes as he and Maggie shared a knowing look. "You two need to get out more. I get that you are stupid happy, but that doesn't mean that everyone else is looking to ride the skin bus into tuna town."

Maggie cracked up laughing while Glenn blushed so hard I thought his head might explode.

"Glenn if you can't handle the talk of adult nap time you best not bring it up. Especially considering you, my friend, are a screamer," I winked at him.

Glenn's mouth hung open so wide I was surprised his jaw didn't dislodge. He sputtered and choked for a solid two minutes, the car swerving all over the road.

Maggie placed a comforting arm on his shoulder, gently squeezing, "It's OK honey, I like that you scream." I made a gagging noise and considered throwing myself out of the car right this second. I swear if they started going at it I was out no matter the tongue lashing I would get from Hershel later.

"Jealous?" Maggie laughed.

"Of Glenn getting to stick his meat pickle in your lady garden? Not even a little bit."

"Hey!" Glenn cried out in outrage.

Rolling my eyes I pinned him with a look, "You're a very pretty girl Glenn."

"Thank you," he harrumphed, finally righting the car on the correct side of the road.

Now that Glenn regained his ability to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide Maggie looked back to me. "You saying you have no feelings for him whatsoever?"

"Oh, I have feelings for him on the regular. I feel like smothering him with a pillow. I feel like skinning a squirrel and putting it in his sleeping bag. I'm a feeling machine when it comes to that man."

"You know, they say there's a thin line between love and hate," she sing-songed.

I scoffed, "Maggie, I love you like a sister, I really do, but there is no thin line between me and Oliver Queen. There a huge, big ass, football field sized line between us."

Truth was I didn't hate Daryl, not even close, but this conversation was about as comfortable as a gynecology visit, and that involved stirrups.

"Me think the lady doth protest too much," Glenn hummed.

"Listen here Pavarotti, you're imagining things. There's nothing going on between us. He's a...friend." That didn't seem to accurately describe our relationship, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice. "He probably just feels like he owes me or something from...before. You know that man's moral code is like the Illuminati."

Hard to pin down and shrouded in secrecy.

Glenn looked unconvinced. "All I'm saying is that for two people who have no interest in each other that man's eyes sure follow you like a hawk."

"Glenn, honey, that's called stalking, and no matter what the other girls say it's not a desirable trait," I shot back, resisting the urge to squirm in my seat. Was it getting hot in here?

"And yours always seem be searching for him too," Maggie pipped up, her lips pulled up in a smirk.

Damn that observant witch doctor. What I did wasn't stalking. It was intense research and location confirmation of a particular individual.

I had no answer for that so I just crossed my arms over my chest, looking out the window as I pouted like a mature adult. Maggie just laughed again as she turned around, reassuring Glenn that she loved his stalking tendencies.

Freaks.

Thankfully the convoy stopped outside a small town called Senoia soon after. Before the tires had even stopped rolling I was out of the car and striding towards the group who were already assembled around Rick as he peered down at a map on the hood of his car. I could hear Glenn and Maggie trailing behind me, giggling like little girls. I shook my head as I stopped, shifting my weight back-and-forth, hoping like hell that conversation didn't follow me out here. I'd hate to have to commit homicide so early in the day.

Rick turned around, eyeing the three of us curiously, "You guys alright? You were swerving all over the place for a second there."

I waited for Daryl to save the day with his Asian driving comments, but he remained silent. My eyes darted over to him and I found them already trained on me, and I tried to stamp down the blush I felt spreading across my face, Maggie and Glenn's comments from earlier still rolling around in my head. His eyes narrowed in response to my unease as he silently studied me like I was a book report due Monday. Being anywhere in the hunter's sites was a bad day for anything still moving, and I fought the urge to squirm.

I looked away, finding Rick and shrugging. "It's Glenn," I offered up as an excuse. Everyone nodded in agreement, turning back to Rick.

"Hey!" Glenn protested as I stuck my tongue out at him.

Rick rubbed his face with his hands and I wondered if he constantly felt like he as running an after school program. Trying to keep our group on task, focused, and alive was about as easy as herding cats.

"Alright listen up, there's a town up ahead that might have some supplies. Hershel said there's a house not too far away that has potential." I stood up straighter. The possibility of supplies and shelter was huge. "We aren't risking the group until we're sure what we're up against so we are going to set up in the woods for now while I send out some scouting parties."

Everyone nodded, moving in sync to get the cars off the road, unload supplies and set up a temporary camp. I stayed close to Rick. If he was sending out a scouting party I was getting picked for a team. Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and T-Dog remained behind as well.

"Here's the plan," Rick began, "Maggie, Glenn and T-Dog, take one of the cars and head up to the house. Make sure you park a ways back and make your way in on foot. Hershel said the property belonged to a couple he knew that passed a ways back, and as far as he knew their children never kept it up. There's a well on the property and maybe a generator so if we can clear any walkers and create a safe perimeter it could be a real win for us."

I agreed with that 100%.

Maggie, Glenna and T-Dog nodded their heads already moving to gather their supplies. I smiled briefly at them as Maggie gave me a quick hug before leaving. Those idiots better come back in one piece or I'd kill them myself.

Rick turned to Daryl and I, "I want you two to scope out the town. If it's overrun with walkers I don't want the group going near it, but if we are planning to stay in the area we are going to need supplies and fast."

Daryl grunted in agreement, taking a slow drag of his cigarette as he studied the map. While the two men continued to work out the minutia of the plan I zoned out. I wasn't really a planner. It required too much energy. Besides, those two could talk till they were blue in the face, the second we walked into that town the shit would most definitely hit the fan.

"Were ya even listenin'?" Daryl questioned, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it as Rick went to check on the others progress.

"Sure."

"What'd he say?"

I waved him off, moving back towards Maggie's car to get my pack and weapons. "The usual, find shit, kill walkers, don't die."

"Lil' more to it than that Red." Not really. Besides, those two talked so much I sometimes fantasized they had mute buttons. I couldn't help it if my survival instincts kicked in when they really got going. "Get yur shit, meet ya at my bike."

"Sure thing Satan," I mocked, throwing him a sloppy salute.

He grunted, again, but it sounded an awful lot like _"pain in my ass"_. I was practically fluent in grunting now. According to Rosetta Stone as soon as I started dreaming in the language I'd be golden.

Grabbing my pack out of the backseat I strapped it on before double and triple checking my knives and weapon. Using a gun was a last resort, but if things got hairy I would light that town up like the Fourth of July if need be. Walking towards Daryl I smirked remembering how awkward something as simple as getting on his bike had been only a few weeks ago. When the two of us were first been partnered together this situation was about as uncertain as your first middle school dance.

Where did you put your hands?

Was it OK to lay your head on their shoulder?

Could you really get pregnant if a boy stuck their tongue in your mouth?

This little waltz took roughly 20 to 25 minutes to achieve, and resembled two drunken people playing Twister. The first time I wrapped my arms around his waist he jumped about a foot in the air, knocked me off the bike, and barely caught said bike before it tumbled to the ground on top of me. Not our finest moment.

Ambling over to Daryl I swung my leg over the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist without a second thought. The movements like second nature after all this time. I decided to ignore how my body tingled with satisfaction as my I molded myself against him, instantly feeling lighter, better, safer.

Yeah, I needed to figure that out like I needed an STD.

About a half mile outside the town Daryl stopped the bike and walked it into the woods hiding it from view of anyone who might pass by on the road. We walked in silence as I trailed behind him, his body alert, eyes scanning constantly. I swear the man was part Wolverine with his hearing, but it had gotten us out of some pretty tight spots so I wasn't complaining. When he crouched down on the outskirts of the town I followed suit, creeping up slowly beside him. I saw only the occasional walker scattered in the streets which was the good news. The bad news was we had no direct line of site into the town square.

"Well, we better get this show on the road," I whispered, cinching down the straps on my pack and pulling out two knives.

I spun the one in my left hand around, a nervous habit, as I waited for the closest walker to round the corner and fade away. Before I could bolt into the street a hand clamped down on my wrist.

I looked down at the hand then followed the arm to its owner, raising my eyebrows, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Daryl glared at me, dragging his tongue over his teeth.

"What are ya doin'? Ya got no idea how many of 'em is out there."

"Hence us being here. To scope out the sitch." He looked confused so I continued, "We aren't going to find anything out sitting here playing hide-and-seek. We need to go in there and bring the rain."

Nothing.

"You know, put the smack down on them?"

Silence.

"Open up a can of whoopass?"

Nada.

"You ain't got the sense God gave an ant." Como say what? If there was a library in this one light town I was going to see if it had a redneck dictionary I could borrow. "Hershel said there's a small clinic close by and a police station on the far end o'town."

He pulled a hand drawn map from his back pocket, pointing to the various locations he wanted to scope out. Was he serious?

"Easy there Indiana Jones," I said, glancing at the crudely drawn map, "Why don't we start by crossing the street then we can finalize the invasion details."

If looks could kill he would be dancing on my grave right now. In my opinion Daryl tended to overthink everything. In his opinion I relied too heavily on hoping the stars aligning to keep us breathing.

"We need a plan."

"I have a plan. It's called making shit happen."

"For once in yur life will ya listen Red?"

His voice had a hard edge and his eye started twitching so I nodded. More because I didn't want an arrow in the ass than because I wanted to follow his lead.

"Fine, you win, but no more ordering me around unless we're naked," I pointed at him as he reeled back, his face the picture of embarrassment for only a moment before turning to stone. Sex jokes made Daryl uncomfortable. It was so much fun. Grinning I continued, "I get it. We slowly, quietly, cautiously make our way to the clinic and see if they have any goodies."

He only grunted, big surprise, avoiding eye contact before making his way across the street and into a small alley. His body moved with practiced stealth, both powerful and graceful all at the same time. He really was something. I didn't regret letting him go first, his ass looked amazing even encased in those filthy jeans he refused to wash.

I followed behind him into the alley, unconsciously twirling the knife in my dominant hand, my body pumping with adrenaline. We slowly made our way between the two brick buildings which thankfully contained no windows. No need to ring the dinner bell just yet.

At the cross street Daryl paused, looking both ways before rushing onto the adjacent sidewalk, me close behind. He looked at me and I gave a slight nod, his hand banging on the clinic's glass doors. Then we waited. After another round of knocking and five more minutes of waiting Daryl deemed it safe to proceed. He pulled at the door, but it was locked so I fished my tools from my pocket, squatting down in front of the door while Daryl turned around to cover me. A few minutes later we were inside, weapons held high as we silently split up to search the building. No words were needed. He went right, I went left. It was nonverbal communication born out of countless runs together. I walked slowly down the aisle on the far left, my knives poised to strike if needed, opening and closing doors as I went. When I cleared the last door on my side I turned right, meeting Daryl in the center of the clinic, in front of the small pharmacy.

"Place looks pretty untouched," I noted.

Which was weird. Medicine was pretty high currency these days.

"Yeah."

"I'll get back there and see what's left. You got the list?" Daryl handed me Hershel's Christmas list and I got to work sorting through bottles.

While I ransacked the pharmacy Daryl walked between the aisle, grabbing anything of value and stuffing it into his pack. Once I was done I hopped over the counter, meeting Daryl near the front doors.

"Anythin' good?" he asked.

I smiled, "Jackpot, some antibiotics, few pain killers, a shit ton of over-the-counter stuff, sleeping pills, and a healthy supply of Zoloft."

"Zoloft?" he questioned. "Why'd ya get depression meds?"

Raising my eyebrows at him, "Well, aren't you a little Walter White." He scowled at me, moving forward to inspect my haul.

"Told ya, I never did that shit, but my brother always had pills and booze. You pick up stuff." He rifled through my bag, inspecting each label carefully before moving onto the next. I'm not sure what he was expecting to find in there. Maybe a trap door to another dimension? "Who'd ya get 'em for?"

When I didn't answer right away he stopped, looking at me expectantly. Great, now I was looking for a trap door in my backpack.

"Beth."

I was looking everywhere, but at the man in front of me.

"Ya can't drug people Red, it ain't right."

The disapproval in his voice made me want to take a gold star off my behavior chart if only to get back in his good graces, but I had to remember this was for the greater good. Plus, Maggie scared me more than Daryl.

"Maggie asked me to look for some," I said as an explanation. "She's struggled since the farm. This will help."

"She ain't that bad."

"You're right, apart from her overwhelming and debilitating depression she's adjusting well," I deadpanned. He pinned me with a cold look and I took an unconscious step back. "OK, I promise not to drug her."

I held up a three finger Boy Scout salute to seal my promise which seemed to appease him, and I smiled.

I wouldn't drug her, but Maggie sure as shit would.

We made our way towards the doors as I sifted through my pack, making a mental inventory of our haul, trying to calculate how long we could stretch it. Before I knew what was happening I was thrown in a nearby supply closet, Daryl following close behind. He shut the door quickly, plunging the room into darkness.

It took me a minute to figure out where I was and what was happening as my brain struggled to process our situation. I lifted my arms, stretching them out to survey the size of the closet. It was small, really small, just a glorified broom closet. My hands touched the cold concrete walls and I immediately retracted my arms, wrapping them around myself as I felt my control start to unravel. My heart felt like it might beat out of my chest at any moment. The blood rushing in my ears was deafening, and suddenly I was having a hard time breathing even though it was all I was doing at the moment. Daryl, who was practically standing on top of me, noticed the change instantly. I didn't need to look at his face to know the look he was sending me right now. Sweat dripped down my face, but I was so cold, my body shaking uncontrollably.

"What's wrong with ya?" he asked, setting his crossbow against the wall and using his hand to tip my chin up. I shook my head violently, trying to push past him towards the door, but his hands clamped down on my shoulders firmly locking me in place.

"Daryl..." Pant. "Can't..." Pant. "Get out..." Pant.

Even with the limited light in the room I could see his face scrunched up in confusion as he took in my rattled state.

"Please," I begged.

I was losing it, my breathing coming fast and shallow as my eyes darted around looking for an escape.

"Ya can't go out there. Streets packed full'o walkers right now. Gotta wait for 'em to pass."

Oh.

Hell.

No.

I'd take my chances with the walkers.

I pushed against him, but I might as well have been trying to relocate a brick wall for all the good it did me. He didn't move an inch and my eyes filled with tears I was unable to stop. That was all it took for Daryl to crush me to his chest, his massive arms wrapping around my much smaller frame. His hands were hesitant like he was unsure of what to do now. For an agonizing second we both just stood there frozen in our own panic before he started rubbing soothing circles on my back. I could feel his chest vibrating as he spoke, but I had no idea what he was saying. I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears.

"I'm claustrophobic," I choked out. When he didn't answer I questioned whether I'd spoken out loud. "It means..."

"I know what it means," he interrupted.

The tears rolled down my cheeks as my mind filled with dread over being in the small box. I could feel the walls closing in on me, threatening to crush me, and I folded myself closer into Daryl's embrace, his arms tightening in response.

"Shhh, everythin's gonna be a'right Alex," he cooed, his voice barely a whisper like he was speaking to a spooked animal. "I'm right here with ya. Just listen to my voice."

And I did.

For the next 20 minutes Daryl's voice was my lifeline in an unforgiving sea of panic. I clung to him like a conjoined twin, his shirt balled in my clenched fists, my face buried in his chest, trying to forget where I was as deeply buried memories surged to the surface in waves. Sometimes he spoke, other times he just held me, rubbing my back in an effort to calm my anxiety. The beat of his heart lulled me into a hypnotic trance as I synced my breathing with his. It felt like years had passed when he finally pulled back, looking down at me with worried, blue eyes. I snuck a quick peak at him, but then squeezed my eyes shut, unable to stand the sight of this crushing prison.

"I'm gonna see if it's clear," he explained, not letting me go.

I nodded, but made no move to untangle myself from him. Slowly, with sympathy in his eyes, he pulled my fingers lose from his shirt, one finger at a time. I whimpered a little when he removed the final finger, and he gave my shoulders a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Yur safe Alex. I ain't never gonna leave ya."

The sentence just hung in the air between us.

Somehow I didn't think he was only talking about right here, right now. The look on his face was intense and I felt myself nod, tears still slipping out of my eyes. His lips thinned as he looked at me, concern evident as he picked up his crossbow and turned slowly. I was forced to take a small step backwards the space was so tight. My back connected with the wall and my hands shot to my mouth in an effort to stifle a scream. It was all I could do to stay still and quiet.

Cracking the door open gradually he peered into the street. Whatever he saw was good enough for him to swing the door open wide. In an instant I was pushing past him into the store, putting a good 10 feet between me and the closet before my hands dropped to my knees. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I struggled to calm myself down.

You're not in the closet. He can't hurt you anymore. You're safe.

I almost snorted at the absurdity of the last thought because safe was the last thing I was. There was no safe anymore. Ironic how I felt better in a world filled with walkers than in a broom closet where I was forced to confront demons from my past. Demons that walked around and tried to eat you were far better than the ones that lurked in the dark recesses of your mind.

Daryl's footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor as he approached me with caution. Jesus, what I wouldn't give for a time machine right about now. I just lost my shit in front of Daryl Dixon. The one person on Earth guaranteed to stay calm, cool, and collected no matter the situation.

Maybe _that_ was his superpower?

My mind was replaying the events of the closet in my head like a movie. They say it was only embarrassing if you cared what people thought, and sadly I cared a whole lot what the man standing in front me thought. No matter the front I put on. Standing up I tucked the strands of hair that had escaped my messy bun at the top of my head behind my ears, wiping my face with my hands, attempting to locate my self-respect before I looked at him. He was looking right at me, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry," I offered up lamely. "I don't know why that happens."

Lie. I knew exactly why it happened, but I'd volunteer to make out with a walker before I admitted that.

"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."

My lips pressed into a thin line as I looked away from him, moving towards the door. I just wanted to scout out the rest of the town, hit up the police station, maybe pick up a grenade launcher or two, and go back to camp where I could hide for 30 to 40 days.

"Let's go."

I stepped back onto the sidewalk, Daryl close behind as we walked towards the police station. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence with barb wire lining the top. With no walkers in the street we rushed to the fence, rattling it for good measure. Within seconds four walkers came stumbling towards us, all wearing ruined police uniforms. Man, Senoia's finest had seen better days. I was ready for some action. Anything to put the broom closet behind me.

As soon as the first walker was in striking distance I plunged my knife through the opening directly into his head, Daryl doing the same with his hunting knife beside me. One by one they dropped like flies. Daryl shook the fence again for good measure, but when no more walkers converged on us I set to picking the padlock on the fence.

Once we were inside the parking lot we moved towards a side entrance. It was unlocked, which could have easily been super lucky or bad fucking news. Shrugging at Daryl I swung the door open, holding my knives so tight my knuckles hurt. He followed behind me, the sound of his quiet breathing helping to calm my anxiety. Oh my god, I would kill for a Xanax right about now.

We crept through the hallways, looking for anything useful as we went. I had just about given up hope of working off any of my tension when out of nowhere a walker came lunging at me from a doorway. I yelped in surprise, jumping back to avoid its outstretched hands.

"Duck," Daryl hissed.

I didn't need to be told twice. I crouched down at the same time the mechanical whirl of an arrow being let loose flew over my head. I heard a sickening crunch followed by the body falling to the floor. Standing up again we smiled slightly at each other, but as it turned out we would have to pat each other on the back later.

The noise drew a group of walkers out of the break room and at least ten instantly filled the hallways, pushing and shoving in an effort to get to us. We couldn't fight this many in such a tight space so I immediately turned, running forward as the hallway opened up into a waiting room, Daryl hot on my heels.

Twirling around I took up a fighting stance as I lunged forward, stabbing a walker who was uncomfortably close to Daryl. Immediately I ducked down, avoiding the outstretched arms of another as I pivoted to the side, plunging my knife into his head as I stood up. Pulling the knife out quickly I stepped around the bodies as another walker came at me from behind the front desk, its jaw chomping and salivating.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl holding one walker by its throat as he slammed his knife into the head of another. Without even thinking about it I let the knife in my left hand fly, the blade spinning with deadly precision right passed Daryl's face and into the walker's head he was trying fend off.

Turning back to the walker bearing down on me I tossed the knife from my right hand to my left hand, eyeing the walker for a beat. I feigned going right only to dance back left, the walker lunging to my right and almost falling. It was more than enough for me to hurl a knife at his head, taking him down with a precise head shot. Grabbing another knife from my belt I threw it at the last remaining walker in the hallway, the knife slamming into his skull to the hilt. Then the only sound was our labored breathing.

"Well, that was fun," I said panting as I made my way over to the retrieve my knives. Daryl nodded as he collected all his arrows. "We need to find the gun cage."

He pointed down a hallway and I followed behind him. We didn't encounter anymore walkers, but as he approached the gun cage Daryl shook it with frustration.

"Stand aside Hana." I fished out a key card I lifted off a dead walker in the lobby, swiping it on the electronic lock as the gate beeped before swinging open. Stepping inside the gun locker I rubbed my hands together with glee, "Come to mama."

"Ya got issues."

"Don't I know it."

We worked diligently to gather all ammunition, guns and supplies we could carry. What we couldn't stuff in our packs we carried out to an abandoned car in the parking lot, shoving the contents into the car then covering them with canvas and a shit ton of trash hoping anyone who might open it would bypass it. We had enough to stage a coup d'état in a small country at the moment, and hot damn if that wasn't exciting. Daryl was right, I had issues.

Walking to the driver's side door I leaned inside, popping the hood. Going around to the front I pulled the hood open, starring at the engine as I scratched my head in confusion.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked, coming to stand beside me.

"We should disable the car just in case someone happens by before we can get back. If it doesn't start they're more likely to discard it."

He nodded in agreement. I blew out a breath, studying the engine with the same intensity I'd afford a Magic Mike cabaret show.

"Ya got no idea what yur lookin' at, do ya?" he laughed, resting his crossbow on his shoulder.

"Sure I do. I'm a regular grease monkey."

Truth was the only thing I was absolutely certain of at the moment was we were standing in front of a car.

"Go on then, do yur thing." Humming I perused the engine in vain. I grabbed onto a shiny, silver thing and pulled, but it didn't budge. "That's tha cylinder head," Daryl stated, a small smirk tugging at this lips.

"I know that."

What in the fuck was a cylinder head? It sounded like the name of my last vibrator. Next I tried yanking on a piece of rubber tubing, and succeeded in dislodging it from another shiny, silver thing.

"What exactly ya tryin' to do?"

The humor dancing in his blue eyes made them sparkle.

"Uh," I stammered, racking my brain for any car part I could think of, "The spark plugs! I'm going to take the spark plugs."

"Good idea."

I beamed at him and he waved at the engine, silently telling me to grab them. There was slim to no chance of that happening. Jimmy Hoffa could be hidden in this engine and I wouldn't know it. After a few minutes of reaching in, then pulling back, only to reach in again Daryl slapped my hand away, expertly grabbing something and yanking it off.

"See, spark plugs," I told him. "I was just about to grab that."

"Uh-huh."

Smiling at him I closed the trunk only to see his face pale, eyes focused on something over my shoulder. Closing my eyes I debated not looking. Maybe it would be like when you played hide-and-seek as a kid, if you couldn't see them they couldn't see you. Turning warily I looked behind me to see a herd of walkers barreling through the fence. The fence we'd left open. OK, that was enough toadying for today. I was done. We could try again tomorrow.

Without a word we both took off for the closest side street. Daryl's long legs carried him in front of me as I struggled to keep pace under the weight of our haul. Ahead of me he pulled down a rusty fire escape ladder on the side of the police station before turning, motioning for me to climb up. He didn't need to tell me twice. I could hear the herd moving closer, fighting to press their numbers into the small passage. It slowed them down significantly giving us both time to get the hell out of dodge.

It was like a scene straight out of 300... _we'll funnel them through the hot gates where their numbers count for nothing!_

Once we were on the catwalk, Daryl pulled up the ladder and we continued up another rickety ladder to the roof. I looked over the edge seeing the herd groaning and milling in the alley as they tried to locate their wayward lunch.

"Fuck, we've got to find a way to draw them away from here. They're surrounding our car full of guns and our way home," I whined. I almost stomped my foot too.

Daryl looked over the edge sighing. It could take a herd that size a week or more to venture away on their own and even then there was no guarantee they would. They could stake up a homestead in that parking lot for all we knew. I walked to the other side of the ledge peering down, a plan forming in my head. Oh man, he was going to hate this.

"I have an idea," I told him. He looked up, waiting. Here goes nothing. "We jump from this building to that one," I explained, pointing to the other building just in case he was confused. He blinked at me. Spot on impression of an owl. "I didn't say it was a good idea, but it would work. We jump, make a lot of noise to draw them away then jump again. Like hopscotch, but on buildings."

The blank look on his face told me he wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't yelling either so I figured he wasn't vetoing the idea.

"Red, ya only got one oar in the water."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I was genuinely confused. Talking to him was like hanging out with a Redneck Riddler. Shaking his head he approached the ledge, judging the distance between buildings. "Come on Carl Lewis, we can make it. It's like what, three feet?"

"Try 10, at least," he corrected.

"Same thing." We both backed away from the ledge, tightening our packets and stowing our weapons. "On three," I said and he nodded. "One, two..."

I took off, running as fast as I could, waiting until the last minute to jump. I heard a curse from behind me, Daryl's boots stomping on the roof. As I leapt off the roof and into the air. I was weightless for what felt like forever before landing with relative ease on the neighboring roof. Turning around I sighed in relief as Daryl cleared the jump by several feet.

This was easy.

This was fun.

I needed to get out more.

We both walked to the opposite ledge, banging, hollering and screaming at the herd like a puppy we were trying to train to come. Obediently they followed and we made the next jump. By the fourth roof we were making significant progress dragging the herd away from the police station.

"One more?" I asked.

"Yeah." I counted again, but this time Daryl was off and running before I even finished one.

"Hey!" I called out, determined to catch up.

No way he was evening the score and getting there first, but it was useless, he was on the fourth roof grinning at me before I even got to the ledge.

Just before I could jump something lunged for me out of nowhere. I felt it snag the straps on my pack as I jumped for the adjacent building. The action wasn't enough to stop me, but it was more than enough to slow me down, propelling me forward out of control. I knew immediately I didn't have enough momentum to clear the gap, and I braced for the impact as the top half of my body slammed into the edge of the roof, knocking the wind out my lungs as I started slipping backwards. I tried to dig my fingernails into the asphalt, my nails breaking as I frantically looked around for anything to grab onto.

An exposed nail sliced open my palm and I winced as my feet scrambled against the brick wall. Daryl called my name just as I came to a momentary halt, my fingers gripping the ledge, my delicate hold slipping under my weight, my bloody hands, and pure terror. I could hear the herd groaning below as I dangled there like fresh meat.

First my pinkies slipped off, followed by my ring fingers as I hysterically called for Daryl. The blood from my hand made the ledge impossibly slick, and I couldn't hold on. I watched in horror as my last fingers slipped off the roof. For one awful moment I was suspended in the air, neither falling nor hanging, my stomach forced into my throat at the sensation. A terrified scream shot out of my lungs as I felt myself start to descend, but before I could a large hand seized my arm, stopping my fall. Looking up I saw Daryl flat on his stomach, hanging halfway off the roof, my hand firmly locked in his as I dangled precariously.

"I gotcha." His tone left no room for argument, his confidence unwavering. "Gimme yur other hand."

He reached down with his hand and I grabbed it, holding on for dear life as blood oozed between our fingers. I saw his muscles straining under my weight. His face was a mask of pure determination. There was only one thing I was sure of at the moment, either I was getting on that roof or Daryl and I were falling down together. There simply weren't any other options.

He hauled me up, first sitting up on his knees then to his feet as he pulled one last time, sending me spiraling onto the roof with enough force to propel me directly into his body. My hands braced against his broad chest as his hands locked around my hips both of us wheezing, our eyes still wide. I thought I saw something like relief flit across his features, but it was gone so fast I wasn't sure it was ever there. He released me first so I stepped back, wiping the sweat from my face as I inspected my hand.

"That did not go as planned," I remarked, looking back at the roof, trying to see what has caused my near death experience. There was nothing there.

"Walker," he explained, eyes diverted.

"Where is it now?" He pointed off the side of the roof and I looked down.

There was a giant puddle of...something on the street below. It was like the walker hit the ground and just exploded.

"Gross," I said, backing away from the ledge.

Daryl stalked off, checking every nook and cranny of the roof until he was satisfied we were alone. I slide down the wall, my feet out in front of me as I fished two water bottles from my pack, tossing him one. He sat down beside me, crossbow across his lap as he chugged half the water in one gulp. I pulled out a small first aid kit, splashing the fairly shallow cut with alcohol before wrapping it haphazardly in a bandage.

"Thank you," I murmured, returning the first aid kit to my pack.

His eyes shot to mine in confusion. I waved my hand towards the edge of the roof, unable to find the words to properly express my gratitude. He squinted at me, shaking his head.

"Ain't gotta thank me for that."

"I do," I objected. "You saved my life and at the very least that deserves a fruit basket, probably an Edible Arrangement, and not the crappy one either. You deserve the kind with chocolate dipped fruit, but the best I can do is a thank you."

I rambled when I was nervous, and right now I was a nervous as a whore in church. All I got in response was a grunt. Which could mean either, "you're welcome" or "fuck off". It was hard to tell with Daryl.

"And thank you for earlier...in the clinic."

Jesus, thanking people was a chore.

He didn't look at me as he fiddled with the top of his water bottle, flipping it around and around absently in his hand. Oh god, this was awful. I swear my life these days was relegated to a series of awkward and near death moments separated by whatever snacks Glenn and I could scavenge.

"We all got demons, ain't no sense in tryin' to hide 'em," he said softly, still not making eye contact. "Ya ain't never gotta hide nothin' from me."

Swallowing thickly my eyes slide to him, his own already focused on me. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting his face in shadows making his normally hard to read face indecipherable. With just the two of us up here with the sun setting it was easy to forget where we were, what the world was now. It always surprised me how things could change so quickly. When I first met Daryl I had to fight the urge to strangle him in his sleep, and now I realized I would do anything to keep him safe. To keep him close. Somewhere along this twisted road he became someone I trusted. Someone I counted on. He was the only one who saw through all my bullshit to the real me. He was probably my best friend in this fucked up world.

So damn strange.

I mean, friendship in general was always a bizarre concept to me. You basically picked out a person like you were shopping for clothes, decided if they fit, and then ran around doing shit with them. My sister said that philosophy was why I never had many friends growing up. I smiled at him shyly, ducking my head a moment later, twirling the ends of my ponytail in my hand absently.

"We're friends, right Daryl?" I asked out of nowhere. His head turned sharply towards me. I could just imagine the look of absolute puzzlement on his face. I continued before I lost the nerve, "I mean, friendship is just finding other people who are your kind of crazy."

He considered me for a moment before asking, "And ya think I'm yur kinda crazy?"

"Well, you're not exactly on my level just yet, but you've got potential," I joked and he snorted.

I rested my head on his shoulder as I watched the sunset, resigned to waiting until dark before we cold hopscotch our way out of this mess. Daryl relaxed next to me, his head resting against the wall as we settled in to wait. The herd congregated below wasn't going anywhere and we couldn't risk drawing them back to the police station. Better to wait until night where we would be harder to see. I was suddenly very happy I stole Glenn's candy stash before we left today. Nothing said dinner like a half-eaten Twix, melted Sour Patch Kids and stale Nerds.

As the last rays of the sun set behind the horizon, Daryl checked in on the walkie talkie with Rick, letting him know we were safe, but delayed. I kept my head on his shoulder and he made no attempt to move me. It was nice. I never meant to let my guard down around this man, but it happened all the same. All it took was his signature half smirk, half scowl, a weak threat about shooting me with an arrow and that was it. I was hooked.

I put the function in dysfunction.

A while later, after we crushed the candy and shared a can of cold beans Daryl told me to sleep. I argued we didn't need a watch unless walkers suddenly joined Cirque du Soleil, but he dismissed me without a word, standing up to survey the rooftop which was just as empty as the last time he checked. After making him promise, twice, that he'd wake me for my own watch (which I planned to sleep through) I settled onto the roof, using my pack as a pillow.

It may still technically be summer in Georgia, but damn if I wasn't cold at night, exposed to the elements. Shivering, I huddled into a ball, my hands shoved between my legs as I tried to get comfortable and warm. Just when I was about to give up I felt a leather vest being laid over the top of me. I sighed contently at its warmth, snuggling into it, breathing the scent in deeply like a total loser.

"Ya 'wake?" he asked softly.

"Uh-huh."

He hovered over me, tucking his vest under my chin before standing.

"Yur right 'bout what ya said b'fore." He hesitated, and I almost opened my eyes and rolled over to look at him, but something told me if I did he wouldn't continue. "Yur my kinda crazy."

I grinned like a fool into his vest. "Goodnight Daryl."

"G'night Alex."


	5. Pour Some Sugar on Me

**Pour Some Sugar on Me**

"It's gonna be great!" I told Glenn excitedly, smiling confidently.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, it's practically foolproof."

"Sure." He sounded hesitant, fidgeting nervously with his hat. "Where was I again when we discussed the mutilated cow?"

"You were…around," I answered vaguely, waving my hands dismissively. "Don't look so worried. There's a fine line between madness and brilliance my friend, and as it turns out that line is…"

"A mutilated cow?"

"You got it." I didn't know what Glenn was so worried about, this was awesome.

"I'm gonna go talk to Maggie real quick. I'll meet you at the cow car." He shuffled over to where Maggie was loading into the truck with Rick and T-Dog, a small arsenal of weapons with them. The sound of a spark wheel on a lighter clicking from behind me made me jump a foot in the air, turning around so fast I almost fell.

"Jesus Christ Daryl," I exclaimed, hand over my heart. "You should wear a bell." Fucking hillbilly ninja.

His eyes flicked to me before he looked back at the cow car taking a long drag on his cigarette. It was freaky how quiet he could be when he wanted to. I still wasn't absolutely positive he didn't possess some kind of superpower that enabled him to move with such stealth, it simply wasn't natural.

I waited patiently for another 10 seconds and when he didn't say anything I walked off towards the cow car. That was my measuring stick for Daryl and conversation, 30 seconds and no sound equaled OK to leave. If you didn't put some kind of time limit on him you'd spend your entire life standing beside him in silence. I heard his boots crunching on the gravel driveway as he followed behind me. At the passenger side door I tried to find a place to grab the door handle that didn't involve touching cow guts. Maybe I could climb through the window?

"Don't think ya should do this." His voice was quiet behind me, thoughtful. Groaning internally I turned to face him. This plan was barely 24 hours old, and in that time we'd had this conversation 48 times.

"You don't?" I stood in front of him pretending to consider his statement when really I was wondering if it was too late to take Carol up on her offer for food before we left. Shaking my head in agreement, I looked at him, holding out my hand. "You're right." He looked equal parts confused and suspicious as he glanced down at my hand. "Come on then," I told him impatiently, wagging my fingers.

"Whatcha want?"

"Your keys." Duh?

He took a step back and it was all I could do not to laugh. The man could face down a herd of walkers with nothing to defend himself with but a paperclip and not bat an eye. Ask to drive his bike and there was likely to be a Daryl shaped hole in the nearest wall.

"The hell!" he exclaimed, his body instinctively preparing to fight. "No one drives that bike but me."

I snapped my fingers in mock disappointment, "Damn, guess that means we stick to the original plan." He shot me a dirty look, grumbling under his breath. "Relax, everything's going to be fine. Besides I clearly remember you saying it was a good plan."

Technically he had only halfway shrugged, while distractedly cleaning his arrows, and muttered a barely audible "could work", but coming from Daryl that was practically a ringing endorsement. I turned back to the door, still trying to solve that particular puzzle. I so did not want to touch any of that. Daryl huffed from behind me, moving me aside as he fished a tattered rag from a pocket, using it to open the door.

I flashed him a smile, "Thanks Legolas." Another grunt. Sliding into the passenger seat I looked up at him. "You know, when Rick was talking earlier about rationing he wasn't referring to monthly word counts, right?"

Oh boy, if looks could kill Daryl Dixon would be the world's most talented serial killer. Best to shut the door and keep a few healthy feet and some cow guts between us…just in case. Before I could close the door, and enhance my chances of survival for the next few minutes, he grabbed it, stopping me cold. I looked at him expectantly, but he seemed conflicted, nervous even. Which was ridiculous because the man simply didn't get nervous. It wasn't in his DNA.

"Be careful," he finally said, almost like it pained him. Walkers would never kill Daryl, but emotions just might.

"I'll see you again." I snagged his hand, squeezing it briefly. It was only a half a second at most, but he looked about as comfortable as a cat on a hot tin roof. I knew physical contact and Daryl went together about as well as a sauna in Hell, but he was getting better.

When it was me.

Sometimes.

"Everything alright?" Glenn asked, standing outside the car.

Daryl's eyes left mine as he looked at Glenn before stepping back, dropping my hand so I could close the door. Without another word he walked away, heading straight towards his bike. I reached down, turning on the walkie talkie and making sure it was on channel three.

"Hey Rick, we're ready here. You guys should head out now. Glenn and I will make our way to town, entice the herd with a little fast food, and meet you guys at the ravine."

"Roger Alex. You two stay safe," Rick answered as the truck pulled out, kicking up gravel in its wake. My eyes followed Daryl as he started his bike, pulling alongside our car. He paused briefly looking at us with those intense, blue eyes that made you feel completely exposed, like the dream where you show up naked at school. It was freaky and kinda hot. His nostrils flared as he twisting the throttle, shooting down the driveway in a redneck blur, leaving us behind.

"He scares the shit out of me," Glenn admitted, putting the keys in the car and starting it.

"He's not that bad," I told him, rolling down my window slowly as a mound of blood pooled around it. Oh lord please let that roll down the outside of the car.

Glenn pulled away from the farmhouse, shaking his head in disagreement. "Maybe with you, but with the rest of the population he's the equivalent of the boogie man." I laughed at that. He was intimidating sometimes sure, but scary, not really. Unless you touched his bike or his crossbow then he got a little cray cray.

"He's not dangerous, he's damaged," I told Glenn, breathing a sigh of relief with the cow guts spilled down the outside of the car. "And you should be thankful."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's the reason he's able to survive all this. It's how he keeps the rest of us alive," I answered quietly, looking out the window as we made our way to town.

Glenn was silent as he considered my words. Daryl hadn't confided in me about his past, but damaged souls tended to recognize the signs in others. I didn't know the specifics of what he'd been through, but I knew it wasn't a day trip to the spa. He carried his demons around on his back, literally. The world was lucky he fought so hard to hold them at bay. The day he let those bitches out was the day what was left of this world would burn.

Sometimes it scared the hell out of me because I knew how far down it could drag him if he let it. I knew because I had the same potential buried deep inside me. What scared me even more was what it might mean. I remember my grandmother telling my sister and me when we were little that when we found _"the one_ " we'd know. My sister had asked her with wide eyes how, her young mind unable to grasps the complexities of what she was hearing. I was positive she was going to feed us some crap about "feelings", "sparks", and "fluttering hearts". My grandmother had only smirked, her eyes darting to my grandfather before sliding back to us.

" _You'll know, my loves, because he will scare the shit out of you a little." She whispered it like she was telling us a precious secret. "And you'll recognize that part of him because you'll see the same thing looking back at you in the mirror."_

I always thought my grandmother was 50 Shades of Crazy, but now I wasn't so sure. Daryl was the first, and only person, I'd come across that made me feel this way. He was the only one who challenged what I tried so hard to tucked away. He made me want to believe things could be different, that I could be different. But like the good little avoider I was those thoughts were promptly stashed away in the recesses of my mind. I made a mental note to cancel my subscription to that particular magazine as well.

"Tell me again this is gonna work," Glenn asked, effectively pulling me out of my own head.

"Oh, it's gonna work." Some people had no faith.

He swallowed hard, easing up on the gas as we entered Senoia. "So we're gonna be fine?"

"Uh…"

Glenn's head whipped around to me as he shouted, "Alex!"

"I'm 70% sure we'll be fine," I offered, patting his shoulder. His face paled instantly. Good thing I hadn't told him what I really thought. "I'm kidding, sort of, but it's too late to back out now."

"Carol's right, you have a death wish," he mumbled, pulling to a stop close to the police station.

"Rude." Some people just didn't understand my creativity. "Rick, we're in position, about to crank it up. You guys good to go?"

The walkie talkie crackled to life, "Yep, be careful." I swear that man worried about worrying. It was a waste of time, shit happened, obsessing over it was a waste of time.

"Yes Dad." Opening up the center console I grabbed the CD from the case, inserting it into the player, and cranking up the volume to full blast as Glenn rolled the rest of the windows down. "Ready?"

"Does it matter?"

Glenn gulped and I grinned, hitting play on the CD player. Immediately the sound of drums and an electric guitar flooded the streets of Senoia, the bass so deep I could feel the car shaking. The lyrics from _Run DMC's, It's Tricky_ reverberated out through the speakers at a deafening volume.

 ** _This speech is my recital, I think it's very vital, to rock (a rhyme), that's right (on time). It's Tricky is the title here we go…_**

 ** _It's Tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time! It's Tricky, it's Tricky (Tricky) Tricky (Tricky)!_**

In seconds the street was filled with walkers, all shuffling and ambling towards us, drawn by the sounds and smells of the cow car. Their heads poking around the corner like curious toddlers. Curious toddlers that ate people…talk about terrible twos.

"Let them get closer!" I screamed to Glenn whose eyes were glued to the rear view mirror in horror. The herd, at least 60 walkers, moved with determination towards us faster now. Their movements frenzied by the music and smell of fresh blood.

"Alex!" Glenn shouted. I held my finger up, telling him to wait just a second. We needed to make sure we had as many as possible. They kept pouring from around the corners, coming out of stores, filling the streets to the brim. The more we drew away from the town the less I had to kill later.

Just when Glenn was about to slam on the gas pedal or curl up on the floorboard and cry I yelled at him, "Go!"

He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from the herd, careful to keep his pace slow enough to keep them interested but far enough away to keep us safe. It was a delicate balance, one that had me pulling myself out of the window to sit on the frame so I could more accurately judge their distance, and holler at them when needed.

"How's it going?" Rick asked, his voice barely audible over the blaring music.

Glenn reached over, taking the walkie talkie and filling them in on our progress. The plan was fairly straightforward. We needed access to Senoia for supplies, but we couldn't do that with a herd this size lurking around. Plus, no one could sleep with that many walkers nearby, especially after the farm. So we butchered an already dying cow, slathered a car in its blood and guts, drove into the town square playing the loudest music we could all in an effort to get them to follow us out of town. To be fair, Daryl butchered the cow and slathered the car in guts. The rest of us stood about a mile behind him and tried not to vomit.

"I can't believe this is working!" hollered Glenn. I ducked my head back inside, giving him a lopsided grin. Oh, ye of little faith.

Our goal was to lure them about 15 miles outside of town and in the opposite direction from the rundown house we were currently calling home. It was a slow process, and more than a few times I was forced to hang out the window screaming to keep them moving in the right direction while the music cycled from song to song. I couldn't believe we found a burned CD with everything from Run DMC to The Beastie Boys on it. It was proof my soulmate was out there somewhere.

"We're rounding the last corner!" Glenn had to repeat himself at least twice more before Rick and the others were able to understand what he was saying, the music still pumping. As we came around the bend I twisted my body around from my spot hanging halfway out the window. I could see Rick, T-Dog and Maggie parked on one side of the ravine with Daryl on the opposite side.

Here goes nothing.

Climbing back into the car I turned to Glenn, squeezing his shoulder as he nodded at me, a shaky smile on his face. We were the fastest so it was only logically it be us who threw ourselves out of a moving car then hightail it to our getaway cars once we reached the ravine. T-Dog tried to volunteer, but that man ran about as fast as a turtle stampeding through peanut butter so he simply wasn't an option. I excelled at running like a stole something, mostly because I usually had, so this was totally in my wheelhouse. We both opened our doors as the car continued to move towards the edge of the ravine. _Def Leppard's, Pour Some Sugar On Me_ booming in my ears so loud my teeth rattled.

 ** _Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on!_**

Glancing back at the herd, that was so close I could smell the scent of death, I turned to judge the distance to the ravine. Almost there. Just a few more feet.

When the front bumper pulled even with the edge I screamed at Glenn to jump. I waited until I saw his body disappear out of the corner of my eye before I hurled myself to the ground, trying to keep my arms crossed over my chest and my feet and knees together to keep from breaking any bones. I was more scared of Hershel than any walker. That man's bedside manner left something to be desired. At least when he was dealing with me.

 ** _C'mon, take a bottle, shake it up! Break the bubble, break it up!_**

My body hit the firmly packed ground hard, the impact jolting my shoulder with searing intensity. I barrel rolled for several feet before coming to a stop on my stomach as I shook off the vertigo. Wasting no time I scrambled to my feet, sprinting towards Daryl as fast as my feet could carry me. We couldn't chance the herd catching Glenn or my scent and diverting from the ravine's edge. If they didn't follow the cow car over the edge this would all be for nothing, and our plan to trap them in a big ass hole would be ruined.

Reaching Daryl I practically long jumped onto the back of his bike, the motor idling as he waited, his eyes tracking my progress the entire time. Wrapping my arms around his solid form I relaxed for the first time today. He gently squeezed my hands as I rested my head on his shoulders.

"Ya good?" he asked, keeping his eyes focused on the walkers.

"Yeah." I held him tight, breathless, as I watched the herd spilling over the edge of the ravine, tumbling and rolling to the bottom one walker right after the other like they were on an assembly line, the cow car still pumping out the music. "Good idea spilling blood on the edge," I told him.

 _ **Pour some sugar on me!** _

He grunted in agreement.

Hot damn, it was actually working. I was almost ready to celebrate with a victory dance of epic proportions, but was stopped short, the air seizing in my lungs as I watched in horror as Glenn lost his footing, the edge of the unstable ravine crumbling underneath him. He reached back, grabbing at air as his body slide down the edge right into the pit filled with walkers.

"Glenn!" I screamed at the same time Daryl twisted the throttle hard, the bike lurching forward, kicking up dust as the tires dug into the ground. He rounded the ravine at breakneck speed with precision only he could achieve, and we skidded to a halt just feet from Rick and the other's. I wasted no time dismounting, swinging my legs over the bike as I raced towards where Glenn had fallen.

 ** _I'm hot, sticky sweet. From my head to my feet, yeah!_**

"Alex!" T-Dog shouted, tossing me my rifle from his spot in the bed of the truck. I didn't break stride, catching it with one hand as I rounded the edge, sliding to a stop on one knee just to the right of where Glenn was positioned. Bracing my right elbow against my right knee I tucked the rifle into my shoulder, peering through scope, spotting Glenn attempting to climb back up the ravine's steep slope.

Maggie and Rick were already lowering a rope to haul him up, but with the entire herd now in the ravine bottom Glenn was in serious trouble. They smelled him, the herd moving like a flock of birds as they diverted away from the cow car and descended on him. Moving my rifle to the approaching herd I lined up a shot on the closest walker, putting my crosshairs right between their eyes and firing without hesitation. She dropped like a rock.

 ** _You got the peaches, I got the cream. Sweet to taste, saccharine!_**

I heard Daryl's firing to my left as he took out another walker dangerously close to grabbing Glenn. With deadly precision the two of us fired into the oncoming herd, taking down walker after walker trying to buy Glenn the time he needed to grab the roped. I took out two more just as they reached for him allowing him time to quickly tie the rope around his waist, the others hoisting him up. They only managed to pull him a few measly feet when a walker grabbed his ankle, holding on with strength only the dead possessed. With Glenn's body flailing all over the place I couldn't get a clear shot at the walker's head.

"Do you have it?" I yelled to Daryl, panic in my voice. Rick, Maggie and T-Dog struggled to keep their hold on Glenn, their feet slipping against the crumbling edge of the ravine and the strength of the walker's hold.

"Nah!" he yelled. "Not without hittin' him too."

"Fuck this, we aren't losing anyone today."

Taking a deep breath I focused on the shot, keeping my entire body still as I aimed at the moving target. It was a dangerous shot, one millimeter left and I risked hitting Glenn, one millimeter right and I missed entirely and he died. Squeezing the trigger the round barreled downrange, hitting the walker right where its hand connected to its decaying wrist. The appendage exploded in a spray of bone and blood on impact sending the walker tumbling backwards to the bottom of the ravine with a splat, the now severed hand falling right behind him. Jesus, I'd never get use to them just disintegrating like that when they hit the ground.

Rick yelled at Maggie and T-Dog to pull and with one giant heave they lifted Glenn safely out of the herd's reaching arms. In seconds he was back on solid ground, engulfed in Maggie's trembling arms as we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Standing up I held my rifle loosely in my hands, grinning at the lovebirds. Glenn glanced over at me offering a small smile, and I winked at him. Told him we'd be fine. Walking towards the truck Rick engulfed me in a hug as T-Dog laughed with relief.

"You guys worry too much," I told them. He let me go, shaking his head with a smile.

"One of these days I'll learn not to doubt you," he confessed. "Come on, we need to get out of here. No need to push our luck." Couldn't argue with that.

Walking to the truck I placed my rifle in the bed as I grabbed onto the tailgate, but before I could pull myself up and over Daryl stopped right beside me. He just hovered there, eyes focused on his bike as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He looked jumpy, shy. I'd never seen Daryl insecure about anything. It was weird and adorable all at the same time.

"What's up?" I asked, taking mercy on him. If I didn't we'd probably stand here until the rapture. He didn't answer. Instead he nodded towards his bike, walking away without a word.

"I think that's Daryl for wanna ride back with me," T-Dog translated, humor dancing in his voice.

I looked at him, "Or it could mean eat shit and die. No telling with Daryl."

"Oh no, that was definitely an invitation. Might as well have been engraved coming from Dixon. That's about as sincere as I've ever seen him."

"He literally said no words whatsoever," I scoffed, "How can that be sincere?"

"I've known that man since the beginning, and I've never seen him seek out the company of anyone other than his brother, until you. Gotta face facts boo-boo, for reasons none of us can fathom, Dixon's got a soft spot for you."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, trying to look offended event though T-Dog was right. Most people had a tendency to steer clear of me. I didn't know if it was my inability to edit my verbal filter, my teeny-tiny anger management issue, or if they all just had bad taste.

Who knew?

Better yet, who cared?

The oddest thing was Daryl was unfazed by any of that. Either he ignored my issues or they simply didn't bother him. I wasn't sure how or why, but the two of us seemed to fit together in some strange, broken way.

T-Dog laughed as Rick started pulling away, "Better hurry up and catch your ride."

"Keep laughing, next time a walker tries to eat you like an hors d'oeuvre you're on your own."

Shaking my head I made my way over to Daryl who was already on the bike, studiously avoiding looking anywhere in my vicinity. Well then, this shouldn't be awkward at all. Swinging my leg over the bike, I wrapped my arms around his waist, sliding closer to him.

"Thanks for the ride," I offered, trying to diffuse some of the tension.

I had no idea why he asked me to ride with him when it obviously made him uncomfortable. Personally, I loved it. Riding with Daryl was like living out a wet dream during waking hours. His body was all hard lines and coiled muscles from years spent hunting and surviving. I wasn't going to complain about rubbing up against him like a cat in heat. I would however resist the urge to purr…for now.

"Ain't nothin'." It took him a few seconds to relax under my touch, every muscle unwinding one at a time. "Ya did good today."

If I hadn't been holding onto him I would've fallen off the bike. Did Daryl Dixon just pay me a compliment? I couldn't respond. I lost my ability to speak momentarily. The Earth may have even stopped spinning on its axis for a split second.

"Don't get yur panties in a twist 'bout it," he snarled, feigning annoyance. "Just sayin', yur plan wasn't total shit. Even if yur taste in music is."

"You thinking about my panties Robin Hood?" I teased, ignoring the flutter in my stomach. I was hungry, that's all that was, definitely.

"Stop," he grumbled, pushing the kickstand up with more force than was necessary. My arms squeezed his waist tight as I laid my head between his shoulder blades.

"You did good too," I whispered, inhaling his masculine scent.

I expected him to tense up again or pull away, but surprisingly neither happened. It could have been my imagination, but I swear he actually relaxed into me. Before my mind could fully absorb that information he tore off towards the house, the sound of _Def Leppard_ fading into the background as we drove away, in relative safety for the time being.

 ** _Pour some sugar on me! Yeah! Sugar me!_**


	6. Don't Mess with the Mojo

**Don't Mess with the Mojo**

"Are you saying you agree with Carl?" T asked, outraged. No, he wasn't just outraged he was downright befuddled.

Shaking my head I glanced at him, "I'm saying you're both wrong."

"What? You can't do that. It's like not voting in the general election and then bitching about the president."

"I never said I didn't have an opinion on the matter," I clarified, "I'm simply saying both you and Carl are idiots." T looked at me expectantly as we continued trudging through the woods towards town. "Entertaining Superman as the greatest superhero to ever live is just ridiculous. He literally cries and gets the shit kicked out of him anytime he's near green rocks. So Carl's argument that he's indestructible is moot." T-Dog weighed my thinking before nodding his head in agreement. "And Batman has absolutely no superhero powers to speak of. He's just some rich, man whore with too much time on his hands."

T-Dog inhaled sharply, "You better shut your mouth boo-boo, that's blasphemy! He has the Batmobile, nothing is cooler than the Batmobile!"

"Dude, it's a car, get over it." Men.

"Fine little Miss Know-It-All, who is the best superhero ever?"

"Wonder Woman." T's steps faltered and he tripped. Clearly he wasn't following. "Hear me out, while Superman is in the corner rocking because there are rocks nearby, and Batman is trying to figure out why his checking account is on hold, Wonder Woman is out there kicking ass and taking names." T righted his steps and continued walking next to me in silent contemplation. I was getting to him. "She's a demigod. In case you need a refresher, that's an immortal who can literally, Kill. A. God. Plus, she has the lasso of truth, the bracelets of submission, and a boomerang tiara. Please explain to me how anyone beats that?" Even I was envious of the boomerang tiara, so freaking cool.

Before T could even form a rebuttal argument Daryl turned around swiftly, looking none too pleased if his face was anything to go by. "Do you two ever stop ya caterwauling?"

He formed it like a question, but my instincts were telling me it was purely rhetorical. Well, that and the fact he subconsciously wrapped his finger around the trigger of this crossbow. Best to keep quiet and hope he shoots at T first so I had time to get away. If there was ever a time for a boomerang tiara it was now. Without waiting for an answer he swiftly pivoted on his heel, stalking forward through the dense brush, leaving us to follow. Peering over at T I could tell he was baffled.

"It means talking," I explained.

He nodded, "That man should come with subtitles."

I barked out a laugh and Daryl threw a stony glare over his shoulder at me. Holding my hands up in surrender I locked my mouth shut with a pretend key then threw it over my shoulder for good measure. He exhaled sharply, mumbling something inaudible as he continued on. It wasn't so much that Daryl was anti-social. It was more that he was anti-people. For the first half hour of our walk into town I was on my best behavior in an effort not to annoy him, any more than usual. Then T told me about the superhero dilemma between him and Carl, and I just couldn't keep quiet. Well, that, and I got bored trying to be good.

The three of us were on a run for supplies, mainly food, which was in seriously short supply, but also for heavier clothes. The majority of the group was laughably unprepared for the upcoming winter. Then there was Lori to consider. Pregnant Lori, walking around and creating life on a daily basis in the middle of the apocalypse. I found a book that said the parasite inside of her was the size of a lima bean at the moment, and I promptly started calling said parasite Nugget. She was less than thrilled and mad pregnant women were scary so I tried to only say it behind her back out of courtesy. While the state of affairs in her uterus was a true medical miracle it was also a reminder of how ill prepared we were for Nuggets' impending arrival which would eventually be a baby once it was done being a lima bean.

We didn't have 99 problems, we had 99 million. I rubbed my temples, sometimes my life felt like a test I forgot to study for.

Daryl's temper tantrum now out of the way we made our way towards the only grocery store in Senoia, _Crook's Marketplace_. The parking lot looked like a war zone with overturned shopping carts, abandoned cars, and dead bodies everywhere. The place had most likely been looted already, a couple of times, but people who were terrified rarely made rationale choices so there was a chance we might find something if we were lucky.

Daryl slowly led us to the entrance, his crossbow up and scanning. T had a baseball bat ready while I had my expandable baton in one hand and a knife in the other. The baton was a "gift" from Daryl. He found it when we inventoried the police station haul, finding it wedged against the wall of the truck.

 _I was on guard duty, sitting on the porch while everyone else was inside eating and getting ready for bed. The house we were staying in was nothing more than a glorified shack, but we had a roof over our head…kinda. There were so many holes in the ceiling if it did decide to rain we'd probably drown long before any walkers could get us._

 _I glanced over my shoulder as the front door groaned, Daryl stepping outside. Smiling I turned back around to watch the perimeter as he lit up a cigarette and continued to exudes badassness like it was his job. I kept my fingers crossed that one day I'd be as cool as him._

" _Those things are gonna kill you," I told him, keeping my eyes focused on the tree line._

 _He snorted, "Not a bad way to go, all things considered." I _nodded. Preach, brother, preach!__

 _What a fucked up world when the idea of dying from cancer was more appealing than just about every other alternative on the table. Truth was he would be lucky to live long enough to die from cancer._

 _He leaned against the porch railing, eyes focused towards the road as we sat in comfortable silence. Daryl was a man of few words, but mistaking his silence for weakness was an error made by many. He preferred action to words, and I always tried to remember people like him never planned out loud. There was always something brewing just below the surface. _His silence spoke volumes. You just had to know how to listen.__

" _Anythin'?" he asked, still scanning the perimeter._

" _All quiet," I answered. "For now."_

 _He hummed in agreement, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Leaning back I propped myself up by my hands, my rifle lying across my lap. Watch may be a necessity, but it was boring as fuck, but I preferred it to sleeping. Sleeping meant nightmares, and it was hard to keep up my "I don't give a shit" image when I woke up panicked, screaming and covered in sweat. _Daryl shifted next to me, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small, thin, black object. He flipped it end over end in his hand before tossing it down in my lap.__

 _Confused I sat up, inspecting the object in my hand. It only took me a second to realize what it was, and then I was on my feet, rifle discarded as my mouth opened in surprise. I grabbed the handle with my left hand, swinging it out quickly, the solid, steel baton clicking as it expanded instantly._

 _Holy. Shit. This. Was. Awesome._

" _Where did you get this?" I asked, already spinning around and taking out invisible assailants like the ninja I always wanted to be._

 _He shrugged, "Found it in the bottom of the trunk after we cleaned it out."_

 _I swung the baton around one last time before rounding on Daryl, grinning like a fool. "Thank you!" _He nodded silently, visibly uncomfortable with my excitement and gratitude. M _an, he was gonna hate what I did next.___

 _I catapulted myself up the stairs, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him hard, totally disregarding the no touching Daryl rule. He just stood there for a second, arms hanging limp at his sides, but I didn't let go, unfazed by his awkwardness. After a few seconds I felt his arms come around my waist and pull me tighter against him._

 _Moments like this were rare in general. We were all so focused on staying alive there wasn't much time for hugs or happiness. But with Daryl they happened about as often as Haley's comet passing by Earth. _So, roughly once every 75 to 76 years. _Releasing him before he freaked out even more than he already was I pulled back slightly, smiling at him.___

" _I love it, thank you, really." And I did. This could be the best present ever. Which was probably sad and most definitely disturbing, but I could deal with that later._

" _Ain't nothin'," he answered shyly. "Sides, ya need to keep some distance from walkers."_

 _I grinned, "Well, this should do it. I can't wait to take this puppy for a walk." He shook his head as I stepped back, swinging and bludgeoning my invisible enemies again._

" _Yur a violent little thang Red." _It was true, the level of violence I could unleash at any given moment was above the national average, but I was comfortable with that, someone had to pull the average up.__

" _I'm not little," I corrected, sending him a "look". He told me several times my looks didn't work on him, but that was bullshit. I could see him squirming now._

" _Ya weigh what, buck thirty soakin' wet?"_

 _Less than that since we had to buckle down on food rations, but no way I was volunteering that information. Plus, I was discreetly giving half my rations to Carl and Lori whenever I could. If he knew that he'd take my new toy, go find every piece of food in the house and force feed it to me._

" _You shouldn't ask a lady's weight, it's rude," I answered, resuming my inspection of the baton. I collapsed it, spinning it around in my hand. I heard him stomp on his cigarette before turning and heading back inside._

 _"Oooh, burn." He chuckled softly as I continued to beat the shit out of my invisible friends. I heard him stomp on his cigarette before turning and heading back inside._ " _Daryl," I called out and he stopped, turning slightly to look at me. Now that I had his attention I didn't know what to say. "I just...I really...thank you." I'd already said that, twice. I was an idiot._

 _His eyes softened as he looked at me, my face heating up under his penetrating gaze. I was once again struck by the revelation that this man was important to me. He was one of the best things in my life, maybe the only thing. It was strange how the best relationships start so unexpectedly. You never really see them coming, but when they do you wonder how you ever lived without them._

" _Be careful," he said before walking inside without another word. _I spent the rest of my watch smiling.__

Daryl paused at the automatic doors that led into the store, which were locked open. He looked over his shoulder at me and I shrugged. That could be a good thing because it meant no walkers were trapped inside or it could be bad and mean there were tons of walkers inside that wondered in from off the streets.

Our odds were 50/50.

Daryl crept slowly inside crossbow sweeping the store for any threat, walker or otherwise. T and I followed behind, fanning out beside him, all three of us walking forward. The store was ransacked with shelves toppled over. There was was more food on the floor than anywhere else. The smell was equal parts rotting food and rotting bodies.

Alright, maybe our odds were more in the realm of 70/30.

Silently we broke up, each going different directions as we kept our weapons poised to strike. I stayed near the front of the store and rummaged through an overturned checkout shelf as T and Daryl made their way deeper inside. It was always a good idea to have someone stay close to the entrance to serve as a lookout, and today I drew the short straw.

I was miserable at paper-rock-scissors.

Walking towards the pharmacy section I perused the isle and floor looking for anything useful. T was already behind the counter looking for the good shit, but by the look of this place we'd be lucky to find Tylenol PM. I was able to find some tampons, a few bottles of shampoo, a container of Preggie Pops and some hair ties. Not a winning lotto ticket, but it was something. Plus, Lori throwing up every five seconds was contagious. I swear within a minute of her yacking at least three other people were hurling too, sympathy pains and all.

Shoving the goodies into my pack I walked back towards the window, squinting into the distance. It looked like something or someone was headed this way, rolling down the road in a trio of vehicles. Grabbing the strap of my rifle I pulled it over my head, tucking it into my shoulder and peering through the scope. There were three vehicles approaching with eight heavily armed men from what I could see. Well, our chances just dipped to somewhere around 80/20. I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.

"T," I hissed already running towards the back of the store, my eyes scanning for Daryl. The urgency in my voice had him leaping over the counter and running behind me no questions asked. We found Daryl in the can good section or what used to be the can good section. Now it looked more like the "all the shit people didn't want" section. He turned immediately at our approach, crossbow aimed, his face deadly. As soon as he saw us he lowered the weapon, raising his eyebrows as I grabbed his vest, pulling him down behind an overturned shelf.

"What is it?" T asked, sitting down against a shelf opposite Daryl and I.

Grinding my teeth as my mind worked to find a solution I told them, "Three vehicles approaching. At least eight guys, and they don't look friendly. We don't have time to run, at least not the way we came in, they'll see us for sure."

"How do we know they'll stop here?" T asked.

"We don't, but this store is the only grocery store in this town. If they're headed this way they'll stop to check it out." I bit my lip, my brain racing with possible scenarios and outcomes.

"How do you know they're a threat?"

I knew T was questioning my judgment. He was scared, and I was reminded yet again that our group was comprised of mostly civilians. People who had been teachers, veterinarians, and non-violent individuals in their former lives. They still had difficulty adjusting to the harsh realities of the world now.

"Trust me on this, I spent most of my life reading people, prioritizing danger, and those guys are bad news," I said softly, not meeting their eyes. "We have to pick our battles and when we decide to fight we have to make sure it's big enough to matter, but small enough to win. This isn't our spot."

T nodded in understanding, swallowing hard in an effort to keep his cool. Daryl practically growled beside me, not enjoying the idea of running one bit. I understood that, I did, but the three of didn't stand a chance against their numbers, and I wasn't dying for tampons and hair ties.

Gently I laid a hand on his arm to calm him, to let him know I understood how difficult it was for him to run when every instinct he possessed screamed at him to fight. When my fingers brushed against the soft sleeves of his Henley shirt my head turned down slowly, eyes wide as I stared at what I was touching. The realization hit me like a tidal wave as I curled my fingers around his sleeve that was casually pushed up to his elbow. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at me, trying to figure out why I had a death grip on his sleeve and murder in my eyes.

"I told you this would happen!" I accused, pulling up on his sleeve, his arm lifting in the process and dangling there for a second before he snatched it away, rolling his eyes.

"Christ woman, will ya stop."

"No, I won't. I tried to tell you, but did you listen? Noooo," I mocked, eyes narrowed into slits.

T's head swiveled back and forth between us, confusion stamped on his face. "What I'd miss?"

Pointing at Daryl I said, "Every time he wears sleeves bad shit happens. Every time!"

"Ya batshit crazy Red," he said, dismissing my statement, peeking over the shelf towards the entrance.

I scoffed, "It's not crazy when it's true. I told you not to fuck with the mojo." Daryl glared at me and I glared right back, completely ignoring our very real problem. Opting instead to focus on Daryl and his utter lack of respect for the mojo.

 ** _It had all started this morning…_**

 _It was the same as any other morning with one glaring difference. Daryl came sauntering downstairs freshly showered, not a spec of blood, guts, or dirt anywhere on him. The shock of seeing him so…clean made me initially overlook the details of his attire._

 _I was mesmerized by the sight of him, my eyes drifting over every inch of his body, unable to focus on one thing before something else caught my attention. His hair was washed, combed and out of his face for the first time in history, giving everyone unimpeded access to his striking features which were free from dirt and grim. Between his admittedly gorgeous face and his deep, blue eyes I was having a hard time staying upright, holding onto Maggie like a crutch. His powerful legs were encased in semi-clean jeans that made my mouth water, and when I noticed his shirt collar was slightly open allowing a small glimpse of his expansive, tan chest I blacked out. _He looked good, really good, like a Hillbilly Deluxe version of Daryl.__

 _My penis penitentiary swooned at the sight of him, and I was pretty sure the sound I heard was every pair of panties in the state of Georgia hitting the floor simultaneously._ _Maggie, Carol and I froze in the kitchen as he walked by into the living room to talk to Rick, oblivious to our stares and the pile of drool at our feet._

 _Carol fanned herself, a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes glazed over as she watched him. If I wasn't so transfixed by the man standing less than 10 feet from me I would have been worried about his well-being. Carol was a Super Freak. If she thought I didn't know about the smut books she carried around she was delusional. I had a nose for porn and that woman was packing some serious heat._

 _Maggie's mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to form words as her eyes scanned him from head to toe like he was a puzzle she was trying to put together. I'm 99% sure I heard her licking her lips and moaning a little, not that I blamed her. Hell, give me some popcorn, a stool, and I could have done that all day._

 _Even Glenn muttered a, "damn" from his spot beside Maggie._

 _In that moment I knew I'd finally discovered Daryl's super power. He made anyone pulled into his orbit, regardless of gender, a raging slut. We were going to have to make sure he didn't shower too often or we'd never get anything done._

 _What I failed to notice due to the mental sex gymnastics until we were getting ready to leave was the Abercrombie and Fitch model posing as a redneck was, in fact, wearing a shirt with sleeves. Not just any sleeves mind you, long sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows. He wasn't just tempting the mojo, he was giving it the middle finger and that was a big no-no._

 _The sight of the sleeves was enough to snap me out of my slut trance. By the time Rick drug us apart I'd stopped trying to figure out how to stick my tongue in his mouth, and instead was attempting to remove the sleeves from his shirt myself with a small knife._

And because he hadn't let me here we were experiencing **MojoSutra** : when the mojo fucks you in all sorts of creative ways.

"Uh guys, do you think maybe you could work this out later?" T requested, his voice low, eyes darting around the store. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I muttered my agreement before slipping my rifle over my head as I grabbed my PPQ from my holster, pulling back the slide and chambering a round.

Dealing with walkers meant being as quiet as a church mouse. Dealing with people, especially an armed militia, meant popping a cap in someone's ass no matter the noise.

Peering around the corner of the overturned isle I saw the group waltz into the store. I counted eight, all armed to the teeth. Muttering a curse I turned back to Daryl and T, pointing at our resident redneck, "When we get back I'm cutting the sleeves off every shirt you own. I don't give a shit where you'll stick an arrow."

He looked mad enough to drown puppies now.

Good thing I didn't scare easy.

He shook his head at me, looking around for someplace to hide. If we stayed here they would discovered us in minutes. We needed a place to wait them out, slipping out unnoticed not an option anymore, and neither was fighting. We were out manned and outgunned. The sound of voices getting closer made all three of us crawl towards the opposite end of the isle.

"We have to move," I said, stating the painfully obvious.

"Where? They're gonna check this whole place." T looked panicked and I couldn't blame him.

"The deli," I offered, looking between them, Daryl shaking his head in agreement. This group would scour the entire grocery store for anything they could use, but the deli should be left untouched. Anything edible was long gone, leaving behind nothing but rotten meats and cheeses.

We sprinted towards the deli, careful to stay low and quiet. T went straight for the now defunct walk-in freezer. My steps faltered, wild horses couldn't drag me into that thing. It was too small, like a metal coffin full of rancid racks of beef. No thanks, I'd take my chances with the A-Team out there. T waived at me frantically, but I just shook my head, backing away.

I heard the group making their way towards us, going straight for the canned goods like good little apocalypse survivors. Daryl barreled into me, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him as he raced past the freezer, and I relaxed a little. If he tried to force me in there we wouldn't need to worry about the paramilitary wannabe's taking us out, we'd kill each other long before they got the chance. He took a hard right, stopping behind an enormous butcher station before pulling me down and shoving me under it.

Sliding to the side I tried to make myself as small as possible, curling into the corner where it offered the most concealment. Daryl crawled in behind me and I grabbed him, yanking him into the shielded alcove, his body practically on top of mine. His crossbow was digging into my hip, but that was the least of my issues. His arms were braced on either side of my shoulders, his hips in-between my legs, our faces inches apart. It was the life or death version of the missionary position. Not one of my favorites, but I could make an exception.

He was so close I could feel his breath washing across my face as I stared at him, unable to stop from licking my lips. His eyes narrowed at the action as he leaned in closer almost like he couldn't help himself, and I think I stopped breathing altogether. Just when I thought he might press his lips against mine a voice rang out, impossibly close.

"Find anything?" We both froze, eyes wide. I tried to calm my breathing and my heart. I was sure it was beating so loud everyone within five miles could hear it. Footsteps sounded against the squeaky floor as the man walked forward, closer.

"Nah, this shit is trashed," he called back to his companions. He kept walking forward, and I curled my fingers into Daryl's stupid shirt, trying to pull us further against the butcher station's wall.

"Then what are you doing?" Good question. There was nothing here to salvage so why was he coming closer?

"Thought I saw something," he answered. Daryl grimaced as my grip tightening on his shirt, my anxiety building. Another step sounded and my eyes darted sideways, the tip of a boot coming into view. If he got any closer this rendezvous would become a ménage à trois pretty damn quick. Somehow I didn't think Daryl would go for that.

"Luke!" one of the guys called out, "Got a call from the other group. They found some stragglers a few miles southwest of here outside the city. They need vehicles to transport."

"Anything good?" Luke hollered back. For fuck's sake these guys were going to attract every walker still left in this town.

"Few new pieces of ass and some kids we can use for labor. Don't know about the men, guys said they were a little hot headed, but we might be able to trade them. If not, we'll put them down. Meet us at the truck. If we hurry we can make it back before sundown."

My body tensed at the exchange. They were kidnapping people, children, and trading, killing or raping them? Yeah, I was done hiding. These guys needed to die.

Before I could move Daryl's arms wrapped around me, pinning me in place, his eyes silently pleading with me to stay put and quiet. I scrunched my face up, frustration making my body shake as a tear spilled out before I could stop it. As Luke's footsteps faded away Daryl reached up, cupping my face in his hand as his thumb swiped away the lone tear. Opening my eyes I found him studying me and I swallowed hard a different kind of frustration building now. His lips twitched ever so slightly before he leaned forward slowly, his lips quickly brushing against my forehead lightly. My eyes closed, the feeling of his lips on me, however brief, causing a tingling sensation to race down my spine, but before I could savor it he was sliding off me and climbing out from under the station.

I sat there stunned for a full minute. The kiss had been brief and was innocent at best, but I could still feel the pressure of his lips against my forehead, my body unsteady as I continue to sit there. If it wasn't for his hand reaching down to urge me out I probably would have stayed there for the rest of my life. If getting a chaste kiss on the forehead from the man made my legs turn to Jell-O I was so incredibly screwed. Maggie was right; he was lethal, in more ways than one.

By the time I was on my feet again T was out of the freezer, and Daryl was already striding towards an exit, wasting no time getting us out of here. After scanning the back parking lot and finding it clear we sprinted directly into the woods not wanting to risk being seen by the men or walkers. After only a few minutes Daryl stopped, checking our immediate surroundings as T panted next to me with his hands on his knees.

"We have to warn the group," I said. These guys were dangerous, and the way I saw it we couldn't stay here any longer. They obviously lived close by and it was only a matter of time before they found us. Of all the times for the batteries in the walkie talkie to die it had to be now. Typical. "I'll run back. It's only about four or five miles. You two circle back to the car and meet me there."

Daryl turned so quickly I couldn't track his movements. One minute he was pacing a few feet away and the next he was directly in front of me. "No fuckin' way," he barked at me.

T took a step back, nervous at the hunters agitated state, but I just sighed. This was Daryl's defacto starting point for almost every argument we had. He said no way in hell and I ignored him and did it anyway.

"Just listen, we need to be out of here by tomorrow morning. It will take us till dark to circle back to the car and get to the house. We don't have that kind of time. I can make it back in an hour, and we can be packed and ready to go by the time you guys get back."

"We ain't splittin' up." He was pacing back and forth in front of me again, biting on his fingernail. Stepping forward I snagged his hand as he passed by me, stopping him as his eyes found mine.

"We have to." I spoke softly, pleading with him to see the logic.

He shook his head vehemently, "I'll go. You and T get the car."

"I'm faster," I told him softly. Plus, it would probably take me three days to find the car. I had no idea where we left that thing. Daryl's head dropped and he took a shaky breath as he tried to reconcile my reasoning with his irrational need to protect me. "I'll be fine."

He snorted, hands on his hips, and I couldn't help but smile. Stepping forward I stood on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck like this was something we did all the time. He didn't hesitate in wrapping his strong arms around me, pulling me flush against him. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, closing my eyes as I savored the feeling of being in his arms.

It felt right.

It felt perfect.

Lifting my head slightly I put my mouth next to his ear and whispered, "I'll see you again." His breathing hitched as he squeezed me so tight it was hard to breathe.

"This side or the other," he murmured in my ear, repeating the phrase I told him my grandmother used to say to me when I was a child, holding me for a second longer before releasing me and stepping quickly away. I let him go, my eyes locked on his for a few seconds more before I turned to T, giving him a quick hug. His voice shook as he told me he'd see me soon.

"Stick to the back roads. We don't know how large their group is," I told him, making sure all my weapons were secure.

"Take care of yourself boo-boo," T responded weakly, eyes locked on Daryl with an absolutely perplexed expression on his face.

Sometimes I forgot I was the only one who got to see this side of him. His public persona was one of harsh words and brash actions, but underneath his mask of indifference was a deep reservoir of feelings and emotions. He felt things far deeper than most, sadness, grief, even love. And I knew he loved this group, cared about each of them more than his own well-being. Others didn't see it, but I did. I saw the selfless, courageous, broken man who was taught to hide all that from the world. He could hide from them, but not me. Never me.

My eyes traveled over his face, taking in every feature I already had memorized by heart a hundred times over. He nodded at me slightly, the grip on his crossbow dangerously tight, and I gave him a slight smile in return, then spun around, taking off in the opposite direction without another word.

Behind me I heard him bark at T, "The fuck ya lookin' at?!"

I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up.

* * *

 **I feel so bad that the last chapter didn't load properly for most of the day so to make up for it I thought I'd post one today.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Thanks for reading, you guys rock!**


	7. This is Not Our Alamo

**This is Not Our Alamo**

I was wheezing hard as I raced through the woods, my legs feeling like lead blocks the further I ran, but I was almost back to the last mountain, sorry hill, before reaching the house. They say sweat was just fat crying. If that was the case I was freakin' balling like a baby right now. My clothes were drenched and my throat was so dry it hurt to swallow, that is, if I had any spit left to swallow. I'd long since drank the last of my water and the effects of dehydration, exhaustion and heat stroke were quickly becoming an issue. My body felt terrible, like a physical manifestation of all the bad relationships I had throughout my life.

So pretty bad.

Glancing at my watch I noted it had taken me a little over an hour to make my way back. Eyeing the last hill I almost started crying, hands on my knees as I tried and failed to catch my breath. Panting, I started the ascent, promptly slipping on the pine needles and leaves littering the ground, summer long since giving way to fall. Then because I was thinking about falling I promptly fell. Alanis Morissette's words crooning in my head, _isn't it ironic_.

No bitch, it wasn't, it hurt.

My hands and knees banged against the ground as sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes, stinging as tried to blink it away. I was drained, dog-tired, pooped, and every other synonym I could think of for about to pass out right here. I was so tired, my tired was tired, but I refused to stop, continuing up the foothill on my hands and knees. One hand, then another, slow and steady. I had to keep going. I had to warn them. There was danger lurking just miles away.

There was a huge difference between five miles on a treadmill at 24 Hour Fitness while you eyed the cute guy doing squats in the corner, and five miles on uneven terrain, in the woods while killing walkers, and carrying enough supplies and weapons to invade North Korea singlehandedly. Take into account the small issue of malnourishment and I was quickly getting a real taste of what Pheidippides must have felt like right before he keeled over. Too bad I wasn't delivering good news.

Instead I would mumble something along the lines of, "Move your ass or we're dead". Such a downer.

Bad circumstances surrounded by shitty options. Story of my life. I should be used to it by now. If every day was a gift today was the equivalent of getting socks.

At the crest of the hill I paused, looking down at the house that looked so close and yet so very far away. I fought the urge to hurl my body down the opposite side so I wouldn't have to run or crawl, but the last thing I needed was a gunshot wound because they mistook me for a walker, _Andrea_ , or a broken leg because I was stupid.

Unfortunately my body had other ideas as fatigue caused me to stumble despite my efforts to stay upright. My momentum was unstoppable and sent me skidding down the hill in a heap of flailing arms and legs. When I finally stopped tumbling I laid at the bottom of the hill I gasping, staring into the sky, my vision blurry. I took stock of my body, almost everything hurt, but I couldn't remember the last time that _wasn't_ the case so everything seemed normal on that front. Thankfully nothing felt broken. My legs had taken the brunt of the abuse and felt like they had the equivalent of a hangover from a long night spent drinking. I attempted to sit up, but only managed to raise my head off the ground for a second before it flopped back down.

"Alex!" Rick screamed. I could hear his rapid footsteps approaching as he crunched on leaves before crouching down next to me, his head popping into my field of vision directly above me as he inspected me for injuries.

"I'm not bit," I told him, answering his unspoken question even as his eyes continued to roam my body confirming my statement.

"Did you fall?" Glenn asked, Maggie hovering over his shoulder, fear on her face.

"No, of course not, I was just doing a random gravity check." If he didn't want a sarcastic answer, don't ask a stupid question.

"Get her up," Rick instructed as Glenn made his way towards me. Between the two of them they hoisted me up as I kept my arms draped around their shoulders, my legs unsteady underneath me. My vision lurched to the side, the world spinning like a top, and I gagged. Rick and Glenn instantly released me and I fell onto all fours, again, emptying the meager contents of my stomach onto the ground. Rick handed me a water bottle which I took gratefully, taking a small sip and swishing it around in my mouth before spitting it out.

"I'm good. Just gimme a minute." Or a 100.

Taking a few deep breaths I was satisfied my equilibrium had settled down enough for me to stand and not puke like Lori every morning as I shifted my weight back onto my heels eyeing the trio. They looked pensive as they waited knowing whatever had driven me back in such a state was not good.

"Daryl and T are fine." Best to get that out of the way first. That was about the only good news they were going to hear for a while. "They're making their way back now, should be here by nightfall."

The tension in Rick's shoulders relaxed marginally, the man never truly relaxed, as he nodded his head. "What's wrong?"

"We ran into trouble in town. A group of men, heavily armed, organized, and hostile are in the immediate area. We need to be ready to leave by morning."

Rick's brows furrowed in concern as he mulled over my words. Glenn and Maggie sharing nervous looks.

"Did they see you?" he asked. Did they see me? That was insulting. I was like Susan Storm when I needed to be, silent...invisible...deadly. I was a professional ninja for god's sake. Although I had just falling down a hill in spectacular fashion so I guess the question had merit.

"No, we hid while they ransacked the store then made our way into the woods after they left."

"Well, if they're gone now why do we have to leave?" Maggie questioned her voice high-pitched, anxious.

I shook my head, "These are not the type of men we want to run across. They weren't just in the area for supplies. We heard them talking about taking survivors back to their camp. Trust me when I tell you they weren't doing it out of the goodness of their hearts." Maggie's face paled and Glenn put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Turning to Rick I continued, "It sounded like they made regular trips into town which means they're close by. It's only a matter of time before they find us, and if they do we're hilariously outgunned. We can't stay here."

"Come on," Rick instructed, putting his arm around my waist and helping me to my feet as he half carried, half drug me back to the house. It took a while, my legs uncooperative and my body shaky.

At the porch Rick deposited me on a step and I sat down heavily, head in my hands as a headache built behind my eyes, the constant pulse like a heartbeat pounding against my skull. I heard Rick barking out orders and everyone moved with practiced precision, packing up bags, staging cars, and distributing weapons. It was a fire drill we'd done dozens of times.

My body ached even as I sat immobile on the porch, the physical exertion combined with such limited food and water making my recovery slow. We were all rundown and it made us susceptible to sickness if we weren't careful. I had to make sure this didn't spiral into something worse. I was in good shape. I had to be or it could get me killed, but everyone had their limits and I'd clearly reached mine.

I heard everyone scurrying about, but it sounded like I was under water, and I kept my head down, resting it against the porch railing. I felt bad not helping with our preparations to leave, but the thought of moving from this spot was laughable. I'd just fall down again and then my Susan Storm, ninja image would be ruined for life. There was no coming back from that. My eyes felt droopy and I had the sudden urge to sleep sitting up. A gently hand on my shoulder made me look up, Hershel smiling grimly at me as he sat down beside me.

"Let me take a look at your dear."

"I'm OK, just tired." It sounded more like, "M'K, sus-tire", my brain was having trouble finding words, and my mouth was failing spectacularly at forming them.

"Let me be the judge of that."

Without another word he proceeded to take my blood pressure, check my pulse and shine a light in my eyes. I wanted to ask him what could possibly be in my eyes that would explain this, but since he went to medical school, of a sort, and I barely finished high school I decided to leave it to the professionals. When he was finally done poking and prodding me he sighed.

"Well, you're dehydrated..." Pretty sure the neurological pain party exploding in my brain was evidence of that.

"No shit," I interrupted.

"Language," he scolded his eyes still soft in a way only Hershel could pull off. How he managed to reprimand someone so lovingly was beyond me. He could make you feel horrible with just a tilt of his eyebrow, but you would never doubt his love. It was freaky. I mumbled a sorry, diverting my eyes. I'd rather take a bullet in the stomach than face disappointing the man who was more of a father to me than I'd ever known.

"I think I have some Gatorade somewhere. We need to replace your electrolytes, and you need to rest. If you feel like you can stomach it you should try to eat something. If you aren't feeling better soon I'm starting an IV."

Without comment I nodded my head and he was off to hunt down the Gatorade while my ass stayed glued to the porch step whether I liked it or not. I didn't want an IV, we only had a few left, and we needed to save them for someone who might really need it. A headache and some achy joints were a waste of such a valuable medical resource. He was back in minutes, handing me the recently expired beverage with a warning to sip, not gulp. That was the same warning my I received on my 21st birthday. I hadn't listened then either.

Hershel walked away and was promptly replaced by Rick, a map in his lap, "Do you have any idea where they were heading?" Putting the cap on my Gatorade I set it down, pulling the map closer as I inspected it, blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus.

"They said they were heading northeast to pick up some survivors and if they hurried they could make it home by nightfall. Assuming they continue in the same direction and accounting for travel time and speed they could be anywhere in this area," I told him, drawing a rather large circle on the map.

"That's a big if," he commented, biting his lip.

"True, but there isn't much back this way," I explained, pointing in the opposite direction, "If they were camped that close to town we'd have seen them before today, and there isn't a town they could reach before nightfall in any other direction. These guys were well supplied and relatively clean, meaning they aren't living out in the woods or in cars. They don't just have a camp, they've got a town, guaranteed."

He nodded in agreement, studying the map. "So we head the opposite direction?"

"As good a plan as any." He sighed heavily, looking up and surveying the land.

"I just hoped we'd be able to stay here a little longer." He sounded defeated and I glanced around to make sure none of the others were nearby. The last thing anyone needed to hear was the doubt in his voice. They were already terrified enough.

"I understand, but this place isn't worth fighting for." He turned to look at me, confused. "We're utterly exposed with no hope of covering so much area with our limited supply of manpower and weapons. Plus, the hills surrounding this place make it a prime spot to be ambushed by both the living and the dead."

"And you're just now mentioning this?"

I cringed, "Sorry?"

"You need to tell me these things Alex. You're the only one who has experience with it. You see things none of us even think to look for much less anticipate." I nodded as he rubbed his face in his hands, frustration evident in his body. "We can't keep this up indefinitely."

He was right. I was trained for these kinds of things, but putting a voice to that training would be new. Back at the farm I was new to the group, shrouded in suspicion even once I was allowed to roam freely so I kept my opinions to myself because offering it up would have resulted in being ignored at best and getting shot at worst. Rick relied on Shane then, as crazy as he was, and once he was gone Daryl. It looked like he was depending on me and I let him down. It wouldn't happen again.

"They're tougher than you give them credit for," I declared and he glanced at me. "They believe in you and they'll follow you, all you have to do is lead them. So will I. We'll find somewhere, eventually, and when we do I'll stand shoulder to shoulder with you when we get our Alamo on if that's what it takes to keep it, you know that."

"They follow me because they're scared of me, not because they believe in me. I see the way they look at me now, like I'm going to lose it any minute, like I'll kill one of them too. That's not loyalty, its fear."

Sipping the Gatorade like a good girl I watched him. "You're in a difficult position. Leading isn't easy, believe me I know, and they aren't scared of you, they're scared in general."

That wasn't entirely true. They _were_ scared of him, scared of what he was capable of, but they had the same fear in their eyes when they looked at me. The only difference was I was used to the look, Rick wasn't. He watched quietly as everyone finished the preparations to leave. I wasn't the only one who noticed they all studiously avoided making eye contact with him. He watched them with a sad expression on his face, especially when Carl walked by, head down, shoulders slumped as he placed a backpack in one of the cars.

"You aren't scared." The _**of me**_ didn't need to be said. "You've had no problem adjusting to this world or my role in it." That wasn't a good thing.

Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye I finished my Gatorade, tearing off the wrapper and fiddling with it as I weighed my answer. I hadn't shared much of my past with anyone but Daryl, and even then it was in broken pieces and small comments he was been forced to piece together like a puzzle. It simply wasn't in my nature, but Rick needed something...answers...reassurance.

"The world now and the world before aren't all that different, for me at least." He watched me closely, frozen in place, like moving might end the conversation; snap me out of my trance. "Fighting…evil…killing, it's all I've ever known. Of course I did it millions of miles away, on foreign soil, sometimes for a cause I couldn't even explain, but I did it nonetheless."

For as long as I could remember I had been a weapon. The only difference now was I decided who and what I fought for, the choices were mine. I took a deep breathe, licking my lips as I struggled to put into words how deplorable human nature was long before the world ended. Rick was a cop, had probably seen some awful things, but that was all child's play compared to the things I witnessed. The things I'd done. He was right, this world wasn't hard for me to survive in and I hated that. It was a constant reminder of how different I was, how far from normal I would always be.

"It's harder when the fight happens in your own backyard, when your children are forced to watch it unfold because you can't shield them from it. It makes it real when you see it with your own eyes and not through a television screen as you're making your morning coffee on the way to work. They struggle because they're trying to reconcile the people they used to be with the people they are being forced to become. Having to change your perspective, alter your beliefs, shift your moral compass is one of the hardest things they'll ever have to do. They don't doubt you, they doubt themselves, and they're looking for somewhere to place the blame. You're an easy target."

He was silent for a while, lost in thought as we both sat there. Him struggling with his present, me with my past.

"Is that why you and Daryl treat me the same?" He sounded so unsure it made me sad for him. I wished I could help him, make it easier, but that wasn't realistic.

"Daryl still treats you the same because you don't scare him, never have." Nothing scared Daryl, except sleeves and The Chupacabra. "Plus, he treats everyone like shit so you're practically his long lost twin now."

"And you?"

I laughed, "That's easy, you've always been a dick to me so this thing you've got going on." I waved my hand at him. "It's really nothing new." His head turned towards me sharply and when he saw me looking at him with raised eyebrows he just grinned, shaking his head at me. It made him look years younger. "They all remember the man you were before that's why it's harder for them and for you, but I never met that guy. The Rick I know pointed a gun at my head, threatened to kill me, took all my weapons, handcuffed me to a pole, and sent me out into walker infested woods with no protection except Robin Hood the first time we met."

"Handcuffs you immediately slipped and if I remember the story correctly you managed just fine without any weapons," he added, a pointedly look on his face. Neither here nor there my friend.

"We're talking about you not me, try to focus please."

He laughed at that, really laughed, and it was nice. Leadership was hard at the best of times and this was far from that. Leaders weren't born; they were made, sometimes out of the ashes of tragedy. Rick hadn't asked for this, but it was thrust in his lap all the same. He was learning that sometimes the hard thing and right thing were really one and the same.

I bit my lip as I debated taking this heart-to-heart to the next level. Daryl and I had been discussing it privately for weeks, but had come to the consensus it was none of our business. Well, that's the consensus Daryl came to. I just hadn't had the balls to bring it up, until now. I figured if Daryl noticed something was off with Rick it was pretty damn bad because that man only concerned himself with hunting, crossbows and his bike. In that order.

"So, other than everyone hating you, how are...things?" I winced internally. I could have eased into that one with a little more tact. I meant to be gently about _"it"_ , whatever _"it"_ was, but if the look on his face was anything to go off of I'd pretty much hit _"it"_ with a wrecking ball.

 ** _I came in like a wrecking ball!_**

"I don't know." He trailed off, eyes distant. I kept quiet, looking out at the setting sun, waiting for him to continue. "It's complicated." Understatement of the century.

I didn't know how to respond to that so I didn't, instead I simply nodded my head in agreement. I knew the complication was between him and Lori, everyone knew that. There was…tension, and I'd never been married, but the kind of tension those two had between them didn't seem normal. It was so bad at times no one could stand to be in the same room with them for fear of being crushed by the weight of it.

"Things with Lori, the pregnancy, it's all screwed up."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I hated being right. This was so not my field of expertise. I should have listened to Daryl and stayed out of it, but in my defense I wasn't even sure what he was meant when he said, " _Ya best let a sleepin' dog lie Red. Bring that up and he's likely to knock you so hard you'll see tomorrow."_ How dogs, sleeping and days of the week pertained to Lori being knocked up was beyond me. I chalked it up to him having a small stroke.

I offered up a lame "yeah" in response to his confession, wanting to kick my own ass. I sucked at this stuff, but really, what did you say to someone expecting a baby in the middle of the apocalypse?

Congratulations, timing's a bitch, huh?

Nothing seemed appropriate, and given the fact both of them looked downright distraught at the news it made it impossible for anyone else to navigate the situation. It was obvious the pregnancy was the last thing either of them wanted, and I could understand that given the world we lived in, but it felt strange they weren't even a little excited about it. I got a potted plant once and was more excitement than either of them.

But I'd be lying if I said I was thrilled with the news which made me feel like a shitbag and a hypocrite. When I found out Lori was pregnant the first thing that popped into my head was irresponsible, and the first words out of my mouth were something along the lines of _'you're fucking with me, right?'_. I couldn't understand how they let this happen. We could hardly take care of each other, how were we going to take care of a pregnant woman and eventually a baby?

Sitting by the fire one night right after they dropped the bombshell I felt my stomach twist in guilt as I listened to Lori crying in her tent, alone. She knew how the group felt about this baby, knew we all thought it was a death sentence, and that only made me feel worse. What kind of person found out about a pregnancy and immediately starting thinking of all the ways it could get people killed?

It wasn't right, but it was reality. I may not know much about babies, but I knew they cried, a lot. How could we possible keep the child safe? How could we protect the group with such a huge liability among us? The odds were stacked violently against us. Lori was a ticking time bomb set to go off in roughly eight months.

It wasn't until a few weeks later when my outlook shifted, the first signs of Lori's pregnancy rearing their ugly head. What I once considered an inconvenience, a sure death sentence, suddenly became a life as I held her hair back while as she was racked with debilitating morning sickness. I held her after, Rick nowhere in sight, wiping her sweaty brow as she struggled to even sit up. She was fighting so hard to stay alive, to protect Carl, to salvage her marriage, and now she was pouring every ounce of strength left into keeping this baby safe.

What I once saw as a burden I now saw as a chance at redemption.

What I once considered a death sentence I now felt the need to protect at all costs.

That little parasite inside of her was something worth fighting for, something that made this world livable again. The baby was hope. Something good, pure, and we could use boats loads of that.

Slowly the group came together, an unspoken agreement to protect the mother and unborn child at all costs. The only person who hadn't joined the fan club was Rick. I'd only been around a few expectant fathers, and even then I hadn't known them well so I wasn't an expert in the subject, but something told me it wasn't standard practice to ignore your pregnant wife or your wife in general. The two barely spoke, and when they did it was heated arguments and harsh insults flying around the room. If it wasn't the end of the world I would recommended they go their separate ways, but the truth was we were all stuck with each other now, whether we liked it or not. Till death do us part, literally.

"The baby…," he said softly, swallowing thickly, emotion making his voice shake, "It might not be mine."

"What?!" I turned to him, trying to keep my voice low. I had about 1,000 questions after that one, but they all got stuck in my throat.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands in defeat, "Lori and Shane, they…" He trailed off and my mouth dropped open in shock.

Lori and Shane?

When?

Why?

And did I mention ewww.

The thought of having sex with that budding psychopath was enough to make my skin crawl. I'd sooner skydive without a parachute. Plus, I was pretty sure he and Andrea were hooking up at the farm. I was all for keeping it in the family, but that was a little too Tutankhamun for my liking.

"I don't…I never…" He laughed without humor at my response.

"It was right after, when they thought I was dead. I get it, you know, she thought I was gone. She was alone in this mess with our son, grieving, scared. My head understands, it's my heart I can't convince. I can't get past it. Every time I look at her I see his face and the way she looked at me when I told her I killed him. Sometimes I wonder if she wishes it was him here instead of me. The baby, it's probably not even mine."

I watched him from the corner of my eye for a moment. I had no idea the burden he was carrying around all this time. He was thrust into the roll as our leader, killed his best friend to protect his family, and all the while he was dealing with the very real possibility that the baby his wife was carrying was not his. People were wrong when they said everything happened for a reason. Sometimes life just sucked.

I couldn't find the words to console him because everything seemed to fall painfully short. As I thought about it I wondered if it mattered. There was more to being a parent than DNA. I could attest to that fact personally. Biology was the smallest of factors when it came to being a parent. The simple fact was Rick was here, not Shane, and he was going to be this baby's father.

"Does it matter?" I asked, keeping my eyes off him. There was a pretty good chance this could backfire in spectacular fashion and given my current state I wasn't confident I could fend off the man beside me if it came to that.

"What do you mean, does it matter?" he hissed, eyes furious. "Don't tell me you think I shouldn't care that my wife was fucking my best friend."

Putting my hands up, I looked at him calmly. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the baby. I know it feels like you're empty, like you might not have anything left to give, but that baby didn't ask for anything of this and regardless of circumstances you _are_ the father. I'm sorry about Lori. I can't even imagine what you're going through, but the truth is people hurt each other, its human nature. It's what they do."

His eyes lost some of their fire and his shoulders sagged. "That's got to be the most depressing thing I've ever heard, and that's saying something."

"It doesn't mean you shouldn't suffer for someone," I clarified, "You just have to find the ones worth suffering for."

"It's just so hard."

We considered ourselves the lucky ones because we survived, but it wasn't luck at all. We worked damn hard to get here. Everything was a struggle and this was no different.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy," I told him, bumping his leg with my own. "I'm saying it'll be worth it, and that baby is worth suffering for, no matter the circumstances."

"Thanks Alex."

"Favorite Aunt Alex," I corrected.

I was already positioning myself as the "Favorite Aunt". It was a tough road to hoe. Beth was practically a saint and I'd seen the swag Maggie was hoarding in an effort to buy the parasites affections. I had my work cut out for me.

He laughed, standing up and rolling up the map. "You gonna come inside, get some food, rest?"

"Nah, I'm fine here."

He smirked, "You gonna sit out here till he gets back?"

"Who?" I played dumb as Rick just chuckled, walking inside.

Adjusting myself I propped my pack up behind me, leaning against it as I stretched my legs out in front of me, the muscles tight and sore, but I felt better, relatively speaking. I kept my eyes locked on the gravel road that led to the house almost like I could conjure T and Daryl out of thin air just by thinking of them. The sun was ducking below the horizon, and with each passing minute I felt myself getting more and more on edge. I was starting to contemplate at what point I'd go looking for them when the front door opened, Carol making her way towards me with a smile.

"Brought you some dinner." She handed me can of Chef Boyardee, sitting down beside me.

"Thanks." I grimaced as I scooped out the ravioli, trying to ignore the cold, gritty texture, forcing myself to eat it. "I almost forgot, I have something for you."

Putting the can down I grabbed my pack, rifling through it until I found what I was looking for. Pulling out the worn book I handed it to Carol who looked surprised at first, but immediately turned a shade of crimson as she studied the cover.

"That looks like a good one," I smiled, pointing to the half-naked man clutching a buxom brunette in his arms, her head thrown back in the throes of passion, eyes closed. The way both their hair was blown back told me there had to be a wind machine nearby, either that or they were getting it on in the middle of a tornado.

"I…I…" she stuttered.

Patting her arm I grinned before grabbing my can and continuing to eat. "Relax, it'll be our little secret."

She blushed, "How did you know?" I gave her a knowingly look and she diverted her eyes, putting the book in her lap, crossing her hands over it. "Thank you."

"Anytime E.L. James." I laughed as she swatted my arm playfully.

We sat in compatible silence for a few minutes, me eating and her probably daydreaming about buff, naked men, covered in too much baby oil. I couldn't deny she was getting the better end of the deal on this one, but the baby oil was just too messy for me.

"Why do you bring stuff like this back?" she asked, holding up the book. "It's not like it's essential to survival or anything."

I shrugged, looking down at my can. "Because we all need something to live for." I scrapped the last ravioli from the bottom of the can, both disappointed and relieved I was finished. "Something besides fear and death, an escape, if only for a little while. For you its naughty books, for Maggie its girlie shampoo, for Carl its comic books. It's the little things that give us a reason."

"A reason to what?"

"Keep going."

"I can see why he likes you."

"Huh?"

"Daryl, I understand why the two of you get along so well. You're so alike yet at the same time so different. Like two sides of the same coin."

"Uh," I hesitated. I think her brain had been scrambled by porn overload. Jesus, give a woman the tiniest glimpse of a penis and rational thought flew right out the window. "I'm not sure I follow."

She snickered, "Before you came he barely talked to anyone, and when he did it certainly wasn't civil. With you he's a different person, even in the very beginning which is not like Daryl. He doesn't trust anyone, doesn't let anyone in, except you. It's because he can relate to you. You two have common ground none of us can even begin to understand. With you he's the man he wants to be, but is afraid to show. " I rubbed my temples. Carol had a good heart, but her mouth… "Have you seen him hug anyone else?" she asked obviously seeing my skepticism.

"To be fair, I hug him, he just kind of stands there and panics. Plus, he almost always threatens to impale me with a sharp object."

"And yet he never does," she smirked, eyebrows raised. "Would anyone else be able to say the same?"

How the hell should I know? No one in their right mind would try to hug Daryl. The thought was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh, but then I squirmed because she had a point.

"I think you're reaching. Not everything works out like your books." Which sucked because I read a few pages and wouldn't mind trying out page 72 in my downtime.

"Am I?" she asked, looking at me. "Want to know why I think you don't bring back little treats for yourself?"

"Not really." I'd rather take a spork to the eye than continue this conversation.

"Because you're reason to keep going is him," she continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"OK Dr. Phil, I think we're done for tonight." I gave her a meaningful look that she laughed off, shaking my head I told her. "Next time instead of porn I'm bringing a fresh bag of business so you can stay out of mine."

She pressed her lips together trying to fight a smile, standing up as my eyes shifted back to the road. "Remember, good things never come when you stay in your comfort zone." I fought the urge to groan. She got that from a fortune cookie. I knew because I got the same one once when I ordered Chinese food.

"If your legs ran as well as your mouth you'd be in excellent shape my friend."

"Thanks for the book." Porn.

Glancing over my shoulder I told her, "No problem. Try to pace yourself." Children slept in that house for god's sake.

She finally left and I was alone sitting on the porch mulling over her words. I promptly dismissing them as nonsense. Clearly she had read too many smut novels and was projecting. Daryl and I were friends, sometimes, and made a good team, sometimes. That was it. The fact that he was kinda, sorta, basically, pretty much on my mind 24/7 was normal. I sighed, holding my head in my hands.

A light in the distance had me on my feet with rifle tucked into my shoulder in an instant. I backed up towards the door, careful to keep my eyes trained on the approaching vehicle as I knocked on the door softly three times, a distinctive pattern. It opened almost immediately, Rick and Glenn coming out, weapons ready.

It was too dark to see the vehicle clearly, and I felt my stomach knot with tension as we waited. As the car pulled to a stop in the driveway, T and Daryl climbing out, I felt myself relax for the first time since I saw the convoy heading towards the grocery store earlier today. My eyes found Daryl immediately, looking him over for any injury as he walked towards the house, ever present crossbow in his hands. He looked the same as when I left him hours earlier, and I felt a smile tugging on my lips as I leaned against the porch railing.

Rick called out to the group and within seconds everyone was out of the house, converging on the two. I hung back, keeping my eyes on the hunter as he talked quietly with Rick, nodding silently to others as they patted his shoulder and smiled at him. His eyes drifted over everyone, searching, before flicking towards the house and finding me. Rick continued to talk at his side, but his gaze never wavered.

Without even realizing it I started down the steps, moving towards him. He nodded at something Rick said before walking forward. My stomach clenched and my heart raced as he drew near, and I realized I was in serious trouble. Just being close to him was sending my senses into overdrive, the need to get closer, to touch him, overwhelming. We stopped in front of each other, not speaking as the group passed us by, heading towards the house, more than a few comments thrown our way we both ignored. His eyes scanned every inch of my body, frowning as he took in my appearance. I hadn't bothered cleaning up after my stroll through the woods, and that combined with the walker blood was probably painting a descriptive picture of my afternoon.

"Look like shit Red," he stated the obvious, his voice a deep rumble. I laughed, nodding. "Come on."

His hand found the small of my back as we made our way towards the house, and for such a nonchalant touch it was driving me crazy. If him barely touching me had me imaging scenes that would put Carol's porno novel to shame we officially had a situation on our hands. The part that scared the absolute shit out of me was I wanted to be around him even when I wasn't horny. That was about as serious as things got for me.

"Any trouble?" he asked, glancing down at me, the answer clearly smeared across my torn, filthy clothes.

"I had a slight disagreement with a hill, but other than that no." He mumbled something inaudible, leading me up the stairs.

"We ain't doin' that again."

"Doing what? Running from a band of thugs? Saving the day? Cutting the sleeves off all your shirts? Gonna have to narrow it down Hawkeye," I joked as he stopped on a stair below me, grabbing my hand and turning me around to face him.

"Splittin' up," he clarified, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I can't promise that. Neither can you."

He grunted, clearly annoyed with my statement. Truth was we could be separated at any moment, some separations more permanent than others. Reaching out I brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and his eyes closed briefly.

"I _can_ promise I'll do everything in my power to find my way back." _To you_.

His gaze was smoldering, hitting me like a punch to the gut, our eyes practically level given the stair I was standing on. He hesitated, uncertainty evident in the stiffness in his shoulders and the hard set of his jaw. Just when I was sure he wouldn't do anything his hand brushed mine lightly and I held my breath, afraid to move for fear he would stop, but he didn't. The look on my face gave him the confidence he needed as he wrapping his hand firmly around mine, interlacing our fingers.

"Me too."

It was a simple gesture, hardly romantic in nature, but coming from Daryl it was shocking. It was the first time I could remember him initiating any kind of physical contact that wasn't directly related to life or death. Sure, I molested him almost daily, but who wouldn't? The man looked like he walked directly out of my wet dream and into real life just to torture me. The clothes, the bike, the crossbow, his attitude, it was like he was put together in a factory using specifications I outlined to create my ideal man. Frankly, he was lucky he got off with just hugs thus far because given the chance I'd cuddle the fuck out of his redneck ass and never let go. The last part had me spinning, my face scrunching up as I realized what I just thought, what I felt.

Never let go? Where had that come from? Holy shit on a shingle was Carol right? Was he my reason?

Glancing up at him as he released my hand, stepping back it seemed painfully obvious. He wasn't my reason. He was my everything.

It was a sobering realization because it made me vulnerable in a way I'd never been exposed to before. The man standing before me was a way to hurt me, to rip out my heart without ever touching me, and that didn't even account for the damage the man himself could inflict if this went sideways. There was a very real possibility if this went south it would break me beyond repair.

I would fight tooth and nail to keep him and our relationship protected because whether in life or death I knew my fate was intertwined with his from this point forward. The odds weren't in our favor, and fate was nothing if not a real cunt so I knew we could expect a fight to the death.

Guess it was a good thing fighting was second nature to me.


	8. In Sickness and In Health

**In Sickness and In Health**

"Think this a good idea?" I asked Daryl, gingerly climbing off his bike, my body stiff from a day spent riding. I was getting old(er). I couldn't move these days without sound effects.

"Gotta be."

Typical Daryl answer for every question he was asked.

 _"Are you alright?"_

 _"Gotta be."_

 _"Cold, can of beans OK for breakfast?"_

 _"Gotta be."_

 _"Are you good if I strip off all your clothes and climb you like a jungle gym?"_

 _"Gotta be."_

Unfortunately the last one hadn't happened yet, but I was keeping my fingers crossed

I nodded as the rest of the cars pulled in behind us. It was too late in the day to continue traveling so we decided to hole up at the Storage Depot, an abandoned set of outdoor storage units. The steel fence surrounding the property was still standing, and our initial check of the perimeter hadn't revealed any gaping holes so it should keep the dead out for a while.

The property was large enough to hide our cars safely inside the fence, tucked out of site behind the first row of units, and as long as a horde of walkers wasn't locked inside one of the units using it as a Holiday Inn Express we might just have a decent place to rest, recover and plan our next steps. All-in-all it wasn't a half bad find considering our current circumstances. Which boiled down to Murphy and his law continually kicking us right where it hurt most. It was like everything going incredibly wrong was our group's collective Facebook status at the moment, and lord knows Murphy liked the shit out of that post, repeatedly. Nevertheless, staying in Senoia was not an option. Kneeling at the gate I pulled out my lock pick set, and set to work, Daryl hovering over my shoulder with his crossbow ready as he watched my back.

"Ya never told me how ya learned to pick locks," he commented and I glanced up at him with a smile.

"You never asked." When I didn't elaborate further he nudged me with his knee. "How do you think I learned?" I asked as I put the tension wrench into the bottom of the keyway on the fences lock.

"The military."

Applying torque to the tension wrench I turned the lock slightly to the left before stopping and giving him a funny look. Why did people always assume the military's first order of business was to teach everyone how to commit a felony? Well, if that's what he thought I was going to ride this bus 'til the wheels fell off.

"How'd you know?" I looked around to make sure no one else was listening, putting my finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet. "They teach that right before breaking and entering and after counterfeiting, but don't tell anyone."

His eyes got wide and I couldn't hold my laugh anymore. He pinned me with a cold look that had me smiling even wider as I turned back to the lock inserting the pick as I felt around for the correct pin, making sure to keep my hands steady. Once I found the pin I applied more torque, rotating the tension wrench just a bit more, continuously setting each pin, turning the plug simultaneously. Once I set the final pin, the plug rotated free and the gate swung open. Grabbing my tools I placed them back in their case, shoving them into my pocket before stepping aside as Daryl waved the cars through. Once the last car was through Daryl and I walked towards his bike. He pushed it through as I closed the gate behind us.

"I used to boost cars," I admitted, keeping my eyes on the ground as I walked next to him. His head swiveled towards me and I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. "After my parents died we went to live with my grandparents, and I was angry, angry at my parents, angry at my grandparents, angry at the world. I fell in with the wrong crowd, and before I knew it I had a rap sheet Tupac would envy."

"Whose Tupac?" I smiled, Daryl's music inclination hovered firmly between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Johnny Cash or just silence. You could always count on silence with Daryl.

I waved him off, "Never mind."

"How can ya steal a car, but can't find a spark plug?" Yeah, he was laughing at me.

"I was in charge of stealing them not building them Katniss," I glared at him. "Anyways, it makes them a hell of a lot easier and more valuable if you steal them without breaking windows." Learned that one the hard way.

Plus, cars weren't the only thing I stole during my "rebellious years" which I hadn't admitted out loud. These people hardly knew anything about my past and for reasons that weren't entirely rationale I wanted them to think I was a good person even though I absolutely was not. Not then and not now. It was a sad testament to our times that picking locks and stealing cars were two of the most useful skills I ever learned. So much for my computer teacher Mrs. Welch and her insistence that learning to type was the "pathway to a better tomorrow".

"So ya pick locks and hotwire cars?" The surprise in his voice was offensive, despite all evidence to the contrary he still doubted my mad skillz. He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'd like to see that."

I snorted, "Well, you probably won't have to wait long. Statistically speaking it's bound to happen sooner or later." We walked in silence for a few more seconds before he chuckled, the sound so unexpected coming from Daryl I stumbled a little, looking at him.

"Can't believe yur a criminal Red."

"I know. It's such a stretch." He really laughed at that and I felt myself smiling with him. "Anyway, that's how I learned."

He nodded, "How'd ya end up in the military?" Boy, he sure was a Chatty Cathy tonight. I didn't mind though, he was in rare form, and I'd enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

"I didn't have much choice. I made one too many mistakes, and my choices boiled down to living the rest of my life behind bars or cleaning up my act."

"Well, I'm glad, bein' a hellion turned out to be useful."

Shaking my head I told him, "I know, my grandmother is probably rolling over in her grave."

The thought made me incredibly sad. She would be disappointed in me. Not in what I'd done to survive since the end, she'd understand that, but she would never have understood the path I choose after her death, and a part of me was glad she never lived to see it. She died thinking I turned my life around in the military, that I was doing something honorable. The thought was as absurd as it was laughable.

I made her promises I hadn't kept, and the regret ate away at me. Knowing I couldn't go back and change my past, was bound by my decisions, was a figurative knife in my heart. It was why I was struggling so hard to keep the promise to my sister. I didn't want to fail them both, and all my sister ever asked of me was to never go back to being the person I was before the world ended. So far I managed, but I was walking a knives edge these days. The world demanded a certain violence I knew all too well, and slipping back into that skin was easy, too easy. If I let those walls crumble I wasn't sure I would be able to find my way back, and I knew redemption would be nothing more than a pipe dream.

Sighing I shoved those thoughts to be the back of my mind, Daryl and I making our way over to the group as they used the bolt cutters to open up several storage units, careful to check for walkers before scavenging for anything useful. Maggie and Glenn already found some mattresses, blankets and clothes which they were transporting to empty units. I kept a ways back, biting my lip as Daryl stepped forward to help. The thought of sleeping on an actual bed was tempting, but I would do a trust fall into a herd of walkers before willingly walking into one of those metal boxes.

"I'm gonna keep watch," I told Rick who nodded absently. He didn't know about my phobia, but he wasn't stupid either.

Walking back towards the entrance I spotted a ladder discarded on the ground. Picking it up I propped it up against the storage units, climbing to the roof. The 360 degree views gave me access to every point of entrance or egress on the property so I settled down against a wall, my rifle across my lap.

It was getting colder and I zipped my jacket up as far as it would go, but it was too thin and worn to be of much help. I pulled the beanie on my head down further in an effort to stave off the chill. Even though the beanie had seen better days it was just about the best thing I'd ever seen when I found it discarded behind a cash register. I still remember the roars of laughter from the group as I sauntered out of the store wearing it, the words **_'Killin' It'_** prominently displayed in large, white, block letters across the front. It was like it was made just for me.

I distractedly pulled the pony tail at the base of my head loose, shaking my hair out and massaging my scalp, it felt like heaven. Having long hair was a liability, but I couldn't work up the courage to cut it. My mother had long hair that brushed just passed her shoulder blades, exactly like mine. Keeping it long made me feel like I still had a piece of her even if constantly making sure it wasn't flying around for a walker to grab was a pain in my ass. I pulled my hair over my shoulders, using it to cover my ears like a blanket, but it did little to fend off the cold I felt.

I needed to upgrade all my winter gear at some point, but hadn't found the time yet. There were a lot of things we needed that we didn't have time for, but we were going to have to make time and soon, especially for Lori and Nugget. We may not be able to accurately account for time these days, but her ever expanding waistline made her the equivalent of a genetic clock. The bun in her oven a visual representation of the passing days, weeks and months.

Hershel gave me a list of supplies he thought he might need for her delivery a few weeks ago, and asked me to keep an eye out. The list reminded me of something out of a horror flick, but apparently she had complications delivering Carl so we needed to be prepared for the worst. I had yet to come across anything he needed, but it wasn't a total loss. I stumbled upon several other baby necessities.

 _"I got this for you," I told Lori, handing her a small bundle. She looked at my outstretched hand, eyebrows raised._

 _"What is it?"_

 _I could see the excitement on her face as she opened the crudely wrapped gift. I found some old newspapers on the ground earlier and hastily wrapped the present, but that felt like a stupid gesture now. Lori seemed giddy with excitement so maybe it wasn't that bad._

 _"Oh my god," she laughed, her smile blinding as she held up the small outfit with **'I drink till I pass out'** scribbled across the front. When I saw it I was unable to put it down. Transfixed by how small the outfit was in my hand. I couldn't imagine Nugget being that small. I couldn't imagine anything being that small._

 _"It's great right?" I asked, smiling back at her. "I got this one too."_

 _I handed her another onesie and she held it up, another round of giggles pouring out as she read the words printed on the front, **'If you think I'm cute you should see my Aunt'**._

 _"That's all me. Don't let Maggie in on that action." Or Beth._ _Maggie was making a power play for the Favorite Aunt position, but I wasn't going down without a fight._

 _She pulled me into a tight hug, sniffling. "Thank you Alex."_

 _"You're welcome." I squeezed her, rubbing her back briefly, hoping to avoid the waterworks. "I've never seen anything so tiny in my entire life. I can't believe Nugget is going to fit in that."_

 _"Stop calling my child Nugget."_

 _"Never."_

 _"You're going to make a great Aunt," she confessed, eyes watering._

 _"You bet your ass I am."_

 _Her unborn child was one of the best things in this world. The other being Carl. The mere thought of anything happening to either was enough to steal the wind right out of my lungs. I was slightly unpredictable before she got knocked up, but I was playing on an entirely different level now. If anyone so much as blinked at Nugget or Carl in a way I didn't like I would break out a level of crazy that would make their nightmares seem like a happy place._

"Why ya always on a roof?" Daryl's deep southern drawl snapped me out of my thoughts as he walked towards me, plopping down next to me against the wall. "Brought ya dinner."

"Is it spaghetti and meatballs?" I bit my lip, crossing all my fingers as I looked at him expectantly.

Shaking his head he sat down beside me, handing me a can. "That shit's nasty."

"Yes!" I cheered both hands up in the air in celebration. I almost broke out my best touchdown dance. "Ooh, and its ABC's and 123's. That's my favorite."

"I swear the more I get to know ya the weirder ya get."

"I know, it's shocking, right?"

He grunted in agreement as we both opened our cans. I'd only taken my first glorious bite when Daryl broke out in a coughing fit, a rattling sound coming from his chest. Setting my can down I reached over, grabbing my water bottle and handing it to him.

"Here, drink this." He leaned forward, coughing more as I rubbed his back, my face pinched with concern. He sipped the water slowly, taking measured breaths that seem to pain him. "You don't look good," I said, stating the obvious. In truth he looked like absolute shit which was saying something because Daryl almost always looked good enough to eat. His face was pale and a light sheen of sweat was covering his brow despite the cool temperature. "Maybe you should let Hershel take a look at you."

"Ain't nothin'." It didn't look like nothing. It looked like a whole lot of something.

Biting my lip I reached forward, placing the back of my hand on his forehead. I had no idea what I was doing, but my grandmother used to do this whenever I was sick so I gave it a shot. Surprisingly he didn't pull away, in fact, he actually sighed, leaning into my touch, my hands like ice against his burning skin. He definitely had a fever.

"Daryl, you're sick. We need to take you to Hershel." I was already trying to stand up, but he laid a hand on my arm, shaking his head.

"Don't get sick."

"This may come as a shock, but you're supposed to be able to breathe out of both nostrils." He glared at me, but it didn't hold his usual vehemence. It was hard to intimidate anyone with glassy eyes, a red, runny nose and wheezing sounds coming from your chest.

"Ain't no pussy."

"Don't pee on me and say it's not raining." I frowned, that didn't sound right. "Stop peeing and telling me it's rain." I tried again, but that wasn't it either. A booming laugh erupted from Daryl, but it quickly turned into another coughing fit as he hunched forward, his shoulders shaking. "Shit, I'm sorry." I was getting more and more concerned. "I can't keep your redneck pearls of wisdom straight."

"It's don't piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin'," he corrected, smirking at me once he could breathe again. "And stop worryin'."

"There's slim to no chance of that happening, and slim just left the building Robin Hood."

He rolled his eyes at me, stretching his long legs out in front of him, leaning his head against the wall. "Got that one right."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "That's because I didn't have to translate it into hillbilly."

He flipped me off, never opening his eyes as his lips tugged up in a small smile. "Ya gonna stay up here tonight?"

"Probably. No way I'm sleeping in one of those boxes."

His head rolled towards me, "Why ya so scared of tight spaces?" Chatty Cathy was back. I wasn't as excited this time.

Breathing out a heavy sigh I looked up at the sky. It was a nice night, not a cloud in the sky, the stars so bright it looked like I could reach out and touch them. In a hundred years I never thought I'd ever let someone finish that question much less consider answering it. But as I'd come to understand everything with Daryl was different, at least for me. He once told me I didn't have to hide from him, and surprisingly I didn't want to. Somehow I knew he'd understand.

"Did I ever tell you I was a twin?" He looked surprised and shook his head no. "Yeah, a brother, two minutes older, his name was Adrian. My dad was ecstatic about having a son or so I was told, you know how men are about sons. My mom used to tell me how happy he was when he found out that at least one of us was a boy, how he couldn't wait to be a dad."

He gave me a slight smile and I looked back towards the sky, finding courage in its beauty.

"He died before our first birthday. Sudden infant death syndrome, there was nothing anyone could do. One minute he was here and the next he was just...gone. I don't remember it. I don't even remember Adrian. I mean, I have these manufactured memories from my mom and grandparents, stories they told me, pictures around the house, but none of them are mine. I never knew him."

I pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my hands around them as I rested my chin on my knees.

"After my brother died my dad was...different. Which is just a fancy of way of saying he was a real piece of shit." I laughed at the description, so inadequate. Truth was piece of shit was putting it mildly. I had yet to find words to accurate describe the man, and I'd been working on it for years. "He started drinking, all the time, but he was good about hiding it. He was one of those functional drunks no one see's coming."

Daryl's lips thinned, his jaw tight, he knew exactly what I was talking about.

"My mom was already pregnant with my little sister by the time things started getting really bad. His favorite punching bag was always her, but he was careful to avoid the baby, no way to explain that at the PTA meeting. The first night I ever saw it with my own eyes I woke up because I heard crying, then the yelling started so I crawled out of bed. I snuck down the stairs even though I knew I shouldn't, and I saw my mom lying on the ground sobbing as my dad slammed a bat against her legs, pulling her hair back so he could scream awful things to her. Things about killing my brother, blaming her for being pregnant with a girl instead of the boy he really wanted, about him not being able to stand the sight of her."

He put her in the hospital for two weeks that time. She peddled some lame ass story about falling down the stairs, but even to my young ears it was the stupidest thing I ever heard. I stayed with my grandparents until she was released. My dad's hatred of me just shy of his hatred for his wife.

"I remember thinking that it was normal, you know?" I looked towards him and he shook his head, his eyes sad. "I couldn't understand his anger. I knew he was sad about my brother, everyone was, but he still had my sister and I, my mom...that should count for something, right? It wasn't enough for him. I was never enough."

I turned my head, staring at Daryl's boots, unable to hold his gaze.

"My brother and I looked just alike. I mean, we were fraternal twins obviously, but we both had red hair, pale skin and green eyes, exactly like my mom. My little sister took after my dad. Her features all darker, more exotic with hair so black it sometimes looked blue if the light hit it just right, and these beautiful, light, brown eyes. No one ever believed we were related much less sisters."

I always envied my sister, her hair, her eyes. It gave her a connection to my father I never shared. He loved her, in his own fucked up way, and I wanted a piece of that. I wanted the love of a man who would never love me back. Daryl kept silent, absolutely still as I continued. It was like he was afraid if he so much as moved I'd snap out of it and stop pouring my heart out. He was right.

"He never touched my sister, but for me I knew it was only a matter of time. I reminded him of Adrian and he hated it. It's why he beat my mom. He just couldn't stand the sight of her, the memories of his dead son. One time I heard them fighting and something crashed to the ground. It was louder more violent than their normal fights. My mom always told me to stay away, but I never did, even then I couldn't follow the simplest of directions. When I got there he was holding her against the wall in our living room, his hands wrapped around her throat so tight she almost looked blue as she scratched and clawed at him. I must have been crying, yelling, I don't remember doing it, but he heard me. I'll never forget the look on his face as his dead eyes found me from across the room."

I shivered and Daryl wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tugging me closer to him. I hardly noticed, but his silent presence was enough for me to keep going. I could still hear the sound of my mother's crying. How she begged him to leave me alone.

"It all happened so fast, one minute I was in the living room and the next thing I knew I was locked in a closet. He must have put something in front of the door because no matter how hard I pushed I couldn't get out. It was so dark, and there were boxes and clothes everywhere, not enough room to stand, not enough room to sit. I started to panic. I couldn't breathe. I just wanted out. I screamed until my throat was raw and couldn't scream anymore, but no one ever came."

His arm tightened around me like he could somehow protect me from my past. I leaned into him letting my hand rest on his thigh. His whole body tensed and I stayed perfectly still waiting for his rejection, but it never came. He slowly relaxed, muscle by muscle, his ragged breathing having nothing to do with his sickness. In the back of my mind I wondered if I crossed some invisible line in our relationship, but it was too late to go back now. His arms stayed firmly around me so I let my head fall on his shoulder, sinking into him, the heat from his fever warming me.

"How long were ya in there?" His voice was barely more than a whisper. I didn't know if he was scared of the question or the answer.

"Long enough that by the time my mom opened the door I was dehydrated, starving and covered in my own piss." I spit the words out both ashamed and livid. "It was just the first time of many. Anytime he was angry, drunk, or just looking for a little amusement I ended up in a closet, the pantry, a cabinet, anywhere small enough to hide me away, to help him forget the wrong twin had died."

I swallowed hard, my eyes pooling with tears. There was a reason I never told anyone this, not even the 100 different therapists my grandparents had drug me to. The memories hurt, even now, after so many years. I had never been able to talk about them without reliving them, until now. Guess I never need a therapist. I just needed Daryl.

"He told me it as for my own good, and a part of me believed him. As bad as being locked in a closet was it was nothing compared to the sounds of my mom being beaten. Maybe I was the lucky one. I was locked up, but I wasn't beaten and bloody. I don't know, and I've had a lot of time to think about it locked away from the world. Sometimes so long I was sure I'd die in there, and no one would ever find me."

One of the reasons I never told my grandparents about what had happened was I didn't want to see the pity in their eyes, couldn't bear to cause them anymore pain. They already lost their daughter to that monster. I refused to put the burden of what happened to me on their shoulders just so I could feel better. I knew without a doubt hearing even a fraction of what he put us through would break them so I kept quiet, dealt with it in my own way. Which was to say I didn't deal with it at all.

"Glad he's dead," Daryl said, his thumb rubbing circles on my arm as he held me firmly against him.

"Me too."

Although I wished on more than one occasion he was still alive just so I could kill him all over again. Instead he deprived me of the opportunity when he drunkenly crashed his car on the highway during a particularly bad winter storm.

We were staying with my grandparent's for the weekend, playing outside on the swing set when she called us inside. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of cookies between us like it would make the news she was about to deliver less gruesome. When she finally did I couldn't for the life of me figure out why she was so upset. He was an abusive husband, a horrible father, and I was glad he was gone. Wasn't she? It wasn't until a few seconds later it clicked, that I heard exactly what she said.

 _"They're gone Alex."_

 _They._

 _Not him._

 _They._

Even in death he found a way to hurt us, to hurt my mom. I tried to convince myself she was better off dead than she'd ever been in life. The happy, vibrant woman my grandmother told me stories about wasn't the woman who raised me. The mother I knew was a shell of a woman who shuffled through each day with dead eyes and no hope. Truth was she died a long time before the crash.

"My dad was a mean drunk," Daryl admitted. Now it was my turn to freeze, to be terrified if I moved he'd stop. "Used to beat the shit outta Merle and me."

Merle, the brother Rick left handcuffed to a rooftop in Atlanta who cut off his own hand to escape his prison. The brother Daryl desperately wanted to find and probably never would. I didn't say anything because there wasn't anything to say. There were no words of consolation for the things we lived through. Hallmark hadn't come out with greeting cards for situations such as ours.

"I'm glad he's dead," I murmured, repeating his earlier words.

"Me too." We sat in compatible silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought, but then Daryl doubled over in another coughing fit.

"OK, that's it, we're going to Hershel," I declared. Daryl waved me off, shaking his head in disagreement.

"Nah, ain't nothin' he can do."

"You don't know that."

"Just need to rest." His eyes pleaded with me to drop it and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Fine, but if you aren't better by morning I'm telling him." He grinned at me in victory and I looked at him with my eyebrows raised.

"What?"

I waved my hand over my lap, "You said you needed rest. Rest."

"I ain't sleepin' in yur lap like some kid." He shifted, uncomfortably at the mere suggestion.

"Have it your way." I put my hands on the ground, pushing myself up, his eyes going wide.

"The hell ya doin'?" He looked genuinely confused. It was like he didn't know me at all.

"You won't go to Hershel, I'll bring Hershel to you," I clarified. "Or you can sleep here. Choose."

He rubbed his face with his hands, "Woman I swear ya could make a preacher cuss."

"Hershel it is," I responded, making a move to stand up, but was stopped again by a large, rough hand.

That was starting to piss me off. Before I could fully form my very, colorful response Daryl moved my rifle to the side, laying his head in my lap as his body stretching out beside me. I was so startled I couldn't move, my hands frozen above his head. It had been my idea, but never in 1,000 years did I think he'd actually agree. I bit my lip in indecision, my hands itching to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, but afraid he would bolt. Delicately, barely even a touch really, I brushed the hair off his forehead. He sighed, eyes closed, and it was enough to spur me on as I began gently stroking his hair. When he adjusted his head, snuggling into my lap, one hand tucked under his head and the other casually draped over my knees. It was utterly adorable. I had to cover my mouth with my other hand to keep my shit together. If social media still existed I'd Snap Chat this all over the place. Probably make it a meme.

"Hey Red?" His voice was thick with sleep, eyes still closed.

"Yeah."

"What's yur name?" Looking down at him I smiled softly as I continued to stroke his hair. It was funny, after all this time, he was the only person who ever asked me that.

"Alexandrina." I let that sink in for a moment, it was a lot, so embarrassing. "It means defender of man. My mom had a thing for British royalty. It was Queen Victoria's first name."

"It's..."

"A mouthful," I interrupted, but he shifted, looking up at me. "Being a kid is hard enough without being saddled with the name Alexandrina Victoria Winters. Try fitting that on the tiny name line at the top of your English test. Going by Alex was more self-preservation than anything."

"Victoria?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, apparently my dad didn't give a shit what my name was so he gave my mom free reign. Probably not the best idea. She went for broke. Her gift to me I guess." Other than my looks it was the only thing she ever gave me so it was hard to hate it even if it was a ridiculous name.

"Fits ya."

He gave me a lopsided smile before turning his head and closing his eyes. He was clearly sicker than I originally thought because it seemed like only seconds later his breathing evened out, and I could tell he was fast asleep. I settled against the wall, careful not to jostle him as I kept running my fingers through his hair, eyes scanning our surroundings, my rifle lying on the ground beside me.

I wasn't sure how much time passed, but judging by how numb my ass was at the moment it had been a few hours when Rick quietly climbed the ladder. He froze when he saw us, his mouth hanging open in shock. I held my hand up, stopping him from coming any closer then put my finger to my lips, signaling him to stay quiet. He looked at Daryl then back at me before mouthing, "are you sure?". I nodded and he shrugged, climbing back down.

The night drug on slowly and I'd long since given up being able to ever feel my ass again, but I kept as still as possible, not wanting to wake the sleeping man in my lap. It was probably all for nothing. I was pretty sure I could start playing the bagpipes and he wouldn't budge. The man was completely out of it. As the sun finally began rise, my ass had never been more relieved, I felt him shift for the first time since he fell asleep. He slowly drug himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes, looking around in disorientation.

"Why didn't ya wake me?"

"You needed it more than I did."

Looking at him now it looked like he needed another eight hours, and then some. He still looked far too pale and I knew he still had a fever. As soon as I got off this roof I was pulling Hershel aside. The two of us stood up just as Glenn made his way on the roof, taking over watch. I kept my eye on Daryl as we made our way down. Was it my imagination or was he unsteady? The man was like a cat, always landing on his feet so seeing him shake and tremble on the ladder was beyond strange. I bit my lip as I waited for both feet to touch solid ground again, trying to convince myself all he needed was food and more rest, but something was definitely wrong.

By the time he was on the ground he looked like he fought through a herd of walkers with nothing but his bare hands not climbed down a tiny ladder. His face was ashen, his breathing coming in short rasps, his clothes soaked in sweat. I moved towards him just as he pitched forward, trying to walk, but suddenly he wasn't walking, he was falling, fast. I lunged forward, grabbing any part of him I could get a hold of, trying to slow down his momentum as he crashed to the ground in a heap.

"Hershel!" I screamed, panic racing down my spine like a lighting bolt. I lowered him to the ground awkwardly, trying to keep him from getting hurt, his weight too much to bear. He ended up sprawled on the concrete, his head in my lap just like last night, but this time he wasn't sleeping, he was unconscious. "Daryl, wake up! Daryl!"

Hershel ran over, the rest of the group right behind him as I kept shaking him, begging him to wake up, fear coursing through my veins like fire.

"What happened?" he questioned, already checking him for visible injuries.

"I don't..." I choked out, tears spilling down my face. When did I start crying? "He collapsed. Help him." Maggie handed her dad a medical bag, and he dug out a stethoscope, placing it all over Daryl's chest as he listened. Rick was on his knees next to me, his hand firm on my shoulder. "What's wrong with him?" I wasn't even trying to hold it together. I was freaking the fuck out, plain and simple.

"You need to move back," Maggie said softly, trying to pull me away from Daryl.

I clung to him, shaking my head, "No!"

Rick gently grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. "Let them work Alex. Hershel's got him."

A sob escaped as I let him pull me away, handing me off to Lori who put her arms around my shoulders, Beth on my other side squeezing my hand. I didn't understand what anyone was saying, it all sounded like buzzing in my ears as Maggie and Hershel fluttered around the unconscious man. Suddenly, Rick, Glenn and T-Dog were lifting him, carrying him to a storage unit where they deposited him on an outlandish looking four poster bed. What kind of person staged a storage unit with a complete bedroom set? Weirdos, that was who.

I stayed just outside the entrance as Hershel, Maggie and Beth worked. I heard terms like, dehydration, fever, chills, and shortness of breath being thrown around the room. I stayed glued to my spot, unable to tear my eyes away from Daryl who was far too small and still on the enormous bed. Then suddenly Hershel was in front of me, eyes concerned as he looked at me expectantly. I looked back at him in confusion.

"What?"

He placed a hand on my arm and asked again, "How long has he been like this?"

"Umm..." I started, shaking my head as I wracked my brain for details. "He's been coughing for a few days, but last night it sounded different, worse, like it was deep in his chest. I think he had a fever. I told him to come see you, but he wouldn't. I'm sorry, I should have made him. I..."

"Shhh, it's OK dear. I'm going to take care of him," he assured me as Lori pulled me in for another side hug.

Hershel talked briefly with Rick as Maggie and Beth started an IV. I couldn't watch this. I couldn't see him like this. It was too much and I was too helpless. I pulled out of Lori's arms, spinning around and running in the opposite direction. I didn't get far before I stopped unable to breathe through my tears. Sinking down against a storage unit, I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in my hands. This wasn't happening. He couldn't be sick. Daryl didn't get sick. He said so himself. He was too damn stubborn to let a little thing like germs bring him down. He was too badass for something so...normal.

The image of him lying motionless on that bed was seared into my brain playing in an endless loop that would haunt me for years to come. He looked too pale, too sick, and in this world that was a death sentence just as absolute as a walker. I didn't know what was wrong with him, but I knew we weren't prepared to handle it. Our medical supplies were all but exhausted at this point, and even when we were well stocked we had nothing that could touch this type of illness. I was terrified of what that meant.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up, tears still streaking down my face as I looked into the worried eyes of Rick. "What's wrong with him?" He squatted down next to me, rubbing his beard as he tried to figure out how to break the news. His cop face slipped into place which meant it was as bad as I imagined.

"Hershel thinks its pneumonia." I nodded, wiping the tears from my face as I tried to gather myself. "He can't be sure without a chest x-ray or tests, but it's his best guess."

I stood up, steadying myself on my feet as I pulled myself back together. I could do this. Now that I knew what it was I could focus on the problem and find a solution. I had an enemy now, a starting point. I wasn't helpless.

"What does he need?"

Rick's lips thinned, his face cautious as he said, "Antibiotics, penicillin specifically."

Something we didn't have. Something that was incredible difficult to come by.

"What else?"

"Alex..."

I cut him off, "What else?"

He sighed, running his hands through his hair, "Cough medicine, fever reducers, and pain relievers. More IV supplies wouldn't hurt."

I pushed passed him, striding towards my things. I started with my pack, pulling out anything non-essential. I needed to be fast and light so there was no need for food and water. I would be back within the day or I wouldn't be back at all.

Rick's stopped behind me and I told him, "I need another handgun, preferable something with a large capacity magazine, and as much ammo as you can spare. I'm going to need those silencers Daryl found too, not the homemade ones, I need the real thing. Tell Glenn I need the climbing rope he found last week, and have Hershel right down any specifics."

"Alex," he started.

"Don't," I warned, turning to look at him, my eyes narrowed in warning. "Don't ask me to do nothing while he dies."

He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips as he studied me. "What _are_ you going to do?"

Turning back around I grabbed my pack, pulling it on as I strapped on my weapons, grabbing a few extra knives just in case. "There's a VA hospital not far from here. It should have everything we need."

His face paled. "A hospital, Alex you can't. It'll be overrun, trust me on this."

"I know, but that means it's our best chance of finding what he needs. I've been there before. I know where to look."

"What makes you think there will be anything left?"

"You said it yourself, it'll be overrun. No one in their right mind would go there willingly."

"That's not inspiring me with confidence." Me either. "Do you even have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan," I scoffed. Who would try something like this without a plan? There was the cop face again and despite my best efforts to exude confidence I started to fidget. "Alright, I don't have a plan so much as I have a concept." Now his hands were on his hips. "You're right, that's overstating. It's really more of a general outline." He raised his eyebrows and I finally broke. "Fine _Officer Grimes,_ I don't have a plan! Happy?"

Holy shit, this man was worse than the Gestapo. I was one look away from confessing to killing Kennedy just to get him off my back. Poor Carl, he wouldn't be getting away with anything, ever.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, looking at the ground.

"I'm still going. He's not dying," I insisted, "I won't allow it. I'll figure everything else out."

"The day may come when you won't be able to stop it."

He was trying to get me to accept reality, to be prepared for the worst, and my head understood that. It was my heart that was telling him to go fly a kite. If something ever happened to Daryl it would be because I was already lying dead on the ground next him. Guaranteed.

"Maybe," I answered, continuing to pack. "But not today."

He nodded his head, accepting my choice, and walked away to gather the rest of the supplies I requested. I'm not sure if he believed I could pull this off or if he knew he couldn't stop me. Personally, I didn't care either way. I tried to ignore the concerned looks of everyone as I scurried around the storage units collecting everything. Daryl was right, these people had no Zen. I wasn't even gone and they were already burying me. It did wonders for my confidence.

I didn't say goodbye to anyone, not Carl, his eyes filled with tears as he watched me from a distance. I didn't acknowledge Glenn's attempt to talk to me, T-Dog's effort to stop me or Maggie's outstretched arms. I ignored Carol, Lori and Beth's worried looks as I brushed past them, my spine rigid and jaw clenched. This wasn't a goodbye, and the sadness etched into all their faces made me furious. They might want to toss in the towel at the first sign of trouble, but that wasn't how I operated. As long as he was still breathing there was a chance and I was taking it. I made a beeline for Daryl's bike, swinging my leg over as Rick jogged over to me. When he saw me climbing on the bike he sputtered a few times before he was actually able to form a complete sentence.

"You're taking his bike?" He sounded worried for my safety.

I smirked at him, "I'm hoping it pisses him off so much he wakes up just to kick my ass." He laughed, coming closer and handing me a map. I looked at him in confusion.

"Just in case," he began, "I marked three locations for you to go to in case you get back and we're gone."

"I'll be back tonight," I assured him, not taking the map. "If I'm not back by then I'm not coming back at all."

He looked stricken, torn between saving one friends at the expense of another. Rick was a good leader, but he was a better man. I climbed off the bike, pulling him into a hasty hug he returned immediately. He gave me a chance when he just as easily could have killed me, and to be honest probably should have. Now he wasn't a member of my group, he was my family, and I hated making him worry, but Daryl was something else entirely. Being in this world without him simply wasn't an option for me. In my opinion they were all worrying for nothing. I was a really hard person to kill.

"We haven't come this far to stop now," I told him. "Keep him alive until I get back."

* * *

 **A couple of people have asked if I'm going to continue/update Sins of the Father and the answer is yes. I want to get this story done first though...it's kinda invaded me and I need to get it out before I can go back and do that story justice. My Daryl obsession has fully taken control, I'm working on it. **I hope you all understand and continue to read and review.****

 **I wanted to take a second to thank everyone who has read, followed, favorited and especially reviewed this story. It really keeps me going every time I see an alert that someone has done this.**

 **Especially all you reviewers (angleicedg)...I read you reviews over and over sometimes. It's motivation to keep posting, keep writing and keep getting better. You guys make a difference, make it feel like I'm not posting the story in a void no one ever sees.**

 ** **Thank you all, I really do appreciate it. Especially these days when life seems to be constantly throwing me some pretty spectacular haymakers. This story helps me escape that stuff for a second.****

 ** **Hope you all enjoy the chapter!****

 ** **Thanks!****


	9. How to Save a Life

**How to Save a Life**

Hunkered down in the woods just outside the VA hospital I scanned the perimeter through my binoculars. The place was crawling with walkers. They littered the parking lots, some standing still while others seemed to walk around with no particular direction in mind, listless. They all looked emaciated, clearly starving as they awaited death for a second time, most of their skin gone now leaving behind a hardly recognizable skeletal form that oozed what little bodily fluids they had left. The majority of them were congregated around the front doors and main parking lot so getting in that way was a big no.

The entire property was an improvised cemetery with dead bodies all over the place, scattered on the ground, some lying alone, others grouped together. There were two huge piles stacked like a pyramid, clearly staged for some type of disposal that never transpired. Some were even tightly wrapped in white sheets, lined up in meticulous rows outside the loading dock, having died early in the turn when taking such liberties was still an option.

As awful as the mass grave was the smell was worse. Even from a distance it was almost unbearable, the stench so powerful it was almost visible like a fog surrounding the hospital. It burned my nose, coating my tongue and the back of my throat in a thick layer bitterness that threatened to upend my stomach. I pulled the polyester face shield from around my neck up and over my nose and mouth in an effort to combat the intolerable odor. The thin moisture wick fabric did little to help, but was better than nothing. I used it in the desert to keep the sand out of my mouth and nose during storms. I thought those had been bad. It was nothing compared to this. I would gladly take a sand storm any day of the week if it meant I never had to smell or lay eyes on the sight before me.

Scanning the building I tried to find an approach that didn't mean certain death. The side entrances were less populated than the front, but the amount of dead bodies between me and the doors made it too dangerous. Walking through them would be like trying to traverse a mind field blindfolded, no way to be certain the dead lying on the ground were in fact dead. I may have lied to Rick when I said I had a general outline.

Biting my lip I cursed in frustration, trying to remain calm as each plan I envisioned came crashing down after further scouting. Slow down Alex, work the problem, find a solution. There was always a solution. I just needed to find, but it was a tall order this time. In my mind I heard an imaginary clock ticking away. A man's life literally in my hands and not just any man, Daryl. I said his name again, reminding myself there was no Plan B so I had man up and figure this out. Technically there wasn't even a Plan A, but I was his only hope so I if I couldn't find a way I would make a way. He wasn't dying on my watch.

Scanning the hospital again my eyes drifted back to the rear of the hospital by far the best option out of a pile of really shitty ones. There were less dead on the ground and fewer walkers lurking around. It wasn't ideal, but considering my other options involved body surfing over a herd it was looking better and better. Studying the approach I noticed a set of industrial drainage pipes at the top of the building, trailing down the side and continuing into an underwater sewage system.

Bingo.

I almost laughed. Daryl was right if there was a roof in sight I'd find an excuse to be on it. Pulling out my handgun I screwed the silencer onto the barrel, standing up and moving silently towards the back of the hospital. I kept to the woods for as long as I could, using the trees as cover, but eventually I was forced from their relative safety into the open. If I had more time I would use my knife instead of the gun, keep the noise to an absolute minimum, but time was a luxury I didn't have. The silencer would keep the sound relatively muffled, but it wasn't magical, and unfortunately walkers had excellent hearing. Trading quickness for stealth was a sacrifice I had to make, a bullet to the brain a far more efficient kill than hand-to-hand combat.

Keeping my weapon up I scanned the area, my arms sweeping left and right as I made my way through the parking lot, careful to keep a safe distance from any bodies on the ground. Two walkers snarled at my feet, and I popped off two quick shots and kept moving, their moans ceasing instantly. Miraculously I made it to the back wall without encountering walkers, and I stowed my weapons, surveying the climb to the roof. It wouldn't be the most difficult ascent I ever attempted, but it wasn't exactly safe. The pipe was large, but the hand and foot holds were small or utterly non-existent. The industrial screws that secured the pipe to the wall the only option.

Moans from around the corner spurred me into action. I threw myself onto the pipe, using the screws, the pipe and the wall to steadily climb away from the danger on the ground. It was slow going, the hardware on the wall providing excruciatingly sharp crimps that cut into the tips of my fingers. Halfway up my foot slipped off the wall, my momentum suddenly pulled to towards the ground with a jolt that sent a searing pain through my shoulder joint, the only thing keeping me from falling one hand holding onto a small bar of iron. I reached up with my other hand, my fingers brushing against a set of four screws, and I gingerly locked three fingers over the top of them. My feet struggled against the smooth texture of the wall, but I was able to find a crumbled piece of concrete, a small pocket in the wall just big enough for the toe of my boot to fit in. Once I had three points of contact on the wall I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heart rate. Glancing down I groaned as I saw three walkers pushed up against the wall watching me, their bony arms outstretched in the air. Well fuck me running. This was what I got for thinking things couldn't get worse. Things could _always_ get worse, and it turned out rock bottom had a basement.

Looking away from them I tried to focus on the climb. One problem at a time I reminded myself. Those walkers didn't matter if I couldn't make it to the roof. I'd deal with them if and when the time came. I continued climbing, trying to use my legs as much as possible to keep the strain off my upper body and forearms. By the time I pulled myself on the roof my body feeling like Jell-O. Was it too much to want one day where it didn't feel like I was being ripped apart at the seams?

Daryl.

The name popped into my mind as I rested on the roof, breathing hard, staring up at the cloudless sky.

Daryl needed me. Get up. Keep moving.

Standing up, I pulled out my weapon, quickly scanning the rooftop to make sure it was free of walkers, something I should have done immediately. It was sloppy, and that was unacceptable. Slopping today wouldn't mean only my death. Once I was positive it was safe I put my weapon away, striding towards the giant air duct in the center of the roof, my throat going dry as I tried to come to grips with the next step. This was the part of the plan I was avoiding since I decided the only way in was up.

Well, like a great philosopher once said, _'No risk, no reward'_. Or was that a line from Transformers? Whatever.

I pulled off my pack, digging through my bag until I found a screwdriver, unscrewing the vent cover and setting it aside as I surveyed the opening. I felt sick as I looked into the confined space that was nothing but a glorified rabbit hole. It would easily accommodate a person, unfortunately, and I was forced to swallow down a mouthful of acidic bile at the thought. Using a flashlight I looked inside and estimated there was about 10 feet of horizontal crawl space before the duct made a sharp 90 degree turn, straight down, probably descending straight to the pits of Hell. Alrighty then, let the suck fest begin.

I tied a knot around a metal pole using the climbing rope, throwing the untied end down the duct, and tried not to pass out. Now all I had to do was climb in the hole. I closed my eyes, squeezing my hands into fists as I struggled with my fear, trying to maintain some shred of control.

Daryl.

Daryl was sick.

Standing there breathing hard I tried to channel my inner Daryl, and heard a very recognizable southern drawl in my head telling me to stop being such a pussy. Opening my eyes I stared at the duct, moving forward like a robot. I was absolutely panic-stricken of going in there, but I was beyond petrified of what might happen if I didn't. I could live with the fear. It was the regret that would kill me.

With about as much grace as a newborn calf trying to stand for the first time I backed into the air duct feet first. It was a tight squeeze, especially with my pack, and not for the first time I was glad no one else was here. There was no way to do this and look cool. Especially since my eyes were filled with tear. I would lose some serious badass points if anyone saw me right now. Grabbing onto the rope with my hands I slowly backed up, using the tips of my feet to feel for the drop off. Once I felt it I wrapped my feet around the rope so I could control my descent, carefully lowering myself over the edge. I felt dizzy and more than a little sick as I hung precariously from a rope in an incredibly small space, but there was no going back.

Agonizingly slow I made my way down the duct, sweat pouring down my face more from anxiety than the stifling heat. I couldn't see anything and it both soothed and frightened me. I wanted to know where I was, how much further I had to go, but not at the expense of seeing the tomb I was sliding down. Finally, after what could have easily been minutes or hours, my feet hit solid ground or more air duct.

I lowered myself onto my hands and knees, almost having to lie down to fit and pulled out a flashlight, looking around. I was at a literal fork in the road, to the right the duct kept going, and to the left a dead end with a large vent covering. There was no straight. Heading to the left I crawled to the vent, using my knife as a fulcrum to pop off the cover since the screws securing it were on the outside. Pulling it aside I stuck my head into the elevator shaft. Great another small space. At least it was an upgrade.

The good news was this where I needed to be. The bad news was I had to get out of the air duct and into the elevator shaft which was easier said than done. I felt like a contortionist as I twisted, turned and grabbed all the same time, pulling myself out of the duct and into the elevator shaft. I held onto the steel tracks for the elevator to keep from plummeting down. I could breathe a little easier once I was in the elevator shaft, but the air was stale and hot, and hurt my lungs as I inhaled more dust than air. When this was over I we were going somewhere with no walls whatsoever. Fuck this shit.

Glancing around the elevator shaft I saw the number six painted in huge, white letters above me. Looking down I found a foothold and started climbing down, passing five quickly as I kept going. Once I was right above the fourth floor I positioned myself in front of yet another air vent, looping one arm around a steel track as I used the screw driver to open the vent shaft. With one hand keeping me from becoming an Alex pancake and the other holding the screwdriver the second the last screw popped out the vent went careening to the bottom of the elevator shaft, landing with a deafening crash. Well, so much for stealth.

Pausing at the entrance I shook my head. I wasn't looking at an air duct in a VA hospital. I was staring at the closet in my childhood home. This impromptu exposure therapy was most certainly not working.

Daryl.

I repeated his name in my head like a mantra. He was the only thing that seemed to keep me centered, focused, able to move forward. When I thought of him there was no space in my head to think about the exceedingly small space I was crawling through. I kept his face in the forefront of my mind, using him to reset years of mental wiring tying me in knots. It worked, and I was able to climb into the duct, pulling myself forward on my stomach. I stopped over the top of another vent, squinting between the small slats as I peered into the room below.

Money.

I was now a professional at using my knife to remove air vents so at least I had options if my current career path didn't pan out. Pulling the vent into the duct I set it aside, watching from my perch, waiting to see if the room was as empty, pounding on the thin metal wall a couple of times just for good measure. When I didn't see anything I leaning through the opening, my head dangling from the ceiling as I did a 360 degree another sweep of the room. The operating suite was empty. Maybe JC was taking request after all.

Immediately I pulled myself up, putting my feet through the opening and lowering myself to the floor. Quickly I walked to the floor to ceiling cabinets, ripping open doors and drawers as I surveyed the contents. Shrugging off my pack I set it on the floor, stuffing it full of gauze, bandages, antiseptic creams, sterile needles, IV bags and tubing. Moving to another cabinet I used my baton to break the glass, grabbing handfuls of sterile instruments still warped in their packaging and shoving them in my bag. I took everything that wasn't nailed down, and smiled when I realized I had everything Hershel might need for Lori and Nugget.

There was loud bang behind me, and I pivoted on my toes, PPQ aimed at the door, my finger around the trigger. I saw at least two walkers scraping at the small window, trying to gnaw their way through like it was a chew toy, slobber and all. Good luck with that guys. Putting my weapon away I drug a chair over to the vent opening, jumping up and pulling myself back into the duct. Methodically I crawled back to the elevator shaft, my exit into it this time only slightly more graceful than last time. I wasted no time moving down, towards the third floor.

Once there I repeated the same steps at the vent, not even bothering to try and catch the falling cover this time. I crawled through the duct in the direction of the pharmacy or at least in the direction I thought the pharmacy was in. I'd only been here a handful of times with a friend who was medically discharged from the service after a roadside bomb blew off both his legs.

I struggled to remember the twists and turns of the facility, trying to orientate myself in the duct with little to nothing to guide me. It took a few failed attempts before I was able to find the vent I needed. Peering through the slits I saw tons of medication strewn about the floor, some shelves still upright while others were pushed over, papers scattered everywhere and chairs stacked against doors as barriers in a failed attempt to keep walkers out. The OR suite was empty, but the pharmacy was open to the general hospital. Playtime was officially over.

I pulled the vent off forgoing the banging. I already knew this place wasn't empty, no need to ring the dinner bell. Pulling out my weapon I leaned the top half of my body out, bracing my legs against the side of the vent to hold myself in place as I scanned the area. Spotting a walker standing less than five feet away I squeezed off a headshot, dropping her silently. Swinging my head around I spotted two more that were unaware I was hanging out of the ceiling like hair on a biscuit. Taking aim at the closest one I fired another round, quickly lining up the second shot, the walker staring directly at me. Before she could take a half step I fired, dropping her with a shot that ripped through eye and out the back of her head.

I scanned the immediate area for any others and didn't see any, but that wasn't comforting. This room was full of more blind spots than Ray Charles. They were here. I just couldn't see them. Dropping out of the opening I landed in a crouch, weapon raised as I checked every direction. When I didn't spot any walkers I kept low, using the cover of shelves and desks to crawl towards the pharmacy vault. There was medication everywhere, both bottles and loose pills, but I didn't have time to sort through that disaster. Plus, there was little chance of any was what I needed. A walker wearing a white lab coat reached for me as I rounded a corner, and I grabbed a fist full of her filthy hair, yanking her head back as I pressed the barrel of my gun under her chin and fired without hesitation before moving on.

The vault held my best chance of finding what Daryl needed. It was more secure than the rest of the pharmacy due to the automated lock securing the door. The lock was disabled the instant the power went out blasting us back to the Stone Age. The time and resources it would take to break it made it not worth the risk. Careful with each step I made my way to the vault, clearing every nook and cranny I came across in the process. At the door I took off my pack, pulling out a 4.5 volt battery Glenn had in the hopes of one day jerry-rigging his iPod so he could charge it. Priorities and all.

I set the battery on the ground, grabbing a knife from my belt and using it to pry the electronic panel off the vault door. I winced when the metal bent, wiggling the tip of the knife back-and-forth in an effort to slip it underneath the keypad. If I damaged either the panel or the circuit board underneath there would be no way to get the meds I needed for Daryl short of using a claymore to blast a hole in the door, and I left my claymores in my other purse.

Thankfully the keypad popped off with the circuit board still firmly attached, and I exhaled a sharp sigh of relief. The wires stretched as I flipped the keypad over inspecting the wiring. Red, black and yellow wires stared back at me. Rolling my shoulders I studied the circuit, remembering everything I was taught, both from stealing cars and _other things_. The circuit was fairly simple or at least I was hoping it was based on what I saw. I wrapped the red and black wires around the blade of my knife, cutting through them then pulling back the sheathing to expose the wires themselves. Retrieving a set of alligator clips from my pocket I connected one to end of the exposed wires and then clipped them carefully onto the battery.

The keypad binged immediately, lighting up with blinking green and red lights, the current from the battery heating up the circuit board to the point it began smoking. When sparks started flying I turned away, dropping the now scorching unit. There was a loud beep, followed by a distinctive popping sound as the vault lock disengaged.

Silently cursing Benjamin Franklin I swung the door open, rushing inside. That was loud, too loud. Every walker on this floor would be headed this way. Frantically I snatched Hershel's list from my back pocket and scanned the shelves. The medication was grouped together by type so once I saw Penicillin stamped across a bottle I emptied the entire contents of the shelf into my pack, not bothering to read the rest of the labels. Any antibiotic we could get our hands on was like winning the lottery. I kept moving, searching for cough medicine, and when I came across cough suppressant with codeine I had to restrain myself from chugging a bottle just to take the edge off. Pain relievers were on the shelf directly below and much like the antibiotics I stuffed everything I could into my pack, and even more into my pants. Our group tended to get hurt, a lot.

The sound of a pill bottle ricocheting across the pharmacy and thumping against the wall startled me as I zipped up my pack, securing the straps on my shoulders and pulling out my weapon. I was out of time and space in my space. It was time to go. Inching forward with my weapon raised I exited the vault coming face-to-face with a walker in the doorway. Firing she dropped, but another swiftly took her place so I fired again, walker blood and brain matter splashing across my face, and for the second time today I was grateful for my face shield. That shit was icky.

Movement to my left caught my eye and I turned sharply, firing two rounds in rapid succession at the approaching walkers. A decomposing hand grabbed for my long hair and I reeled back, narrowly avoiding the walker as I spun away, dipping down and shooting his left kneecap. He collapsed to the ground, the limb exploding into a fine, black spray, and I fired again, this time at his forehead and he stopped moving.

The rotten smell of death from behind me signaled a group of walkers surging through the back entrance bared with nothing but cheap plastic chairs. The flimsy furniture was no match for their collective strength as the doors swung open, the two up front falling on their faces. They were all hospital personnel, clothed in scrubs, white coats and surgical masks. Dashing forward I grabbed a chair, dragging it until it was directly underneath the air vent then pivoted around, firing at the closest walkers. When the slide of my PPQ stayed locked back, signaling I was out of ammunition I groaned.

Holstering it I snatched a knife and baton from my waist, darting left to avoid the mouth of a walker as I turned around, plunging the knife into the base of her skull. I swung out with my baton at another that lunged at me, the force of the blow shattering both legs simultaneously as she fell to the ground. Jumping over her I ducked under the arms of another, coming up behind him and swinging the baton down hard on the top of his head, crushing his skull like it was made of putty. Walking forward to the walker whose legs I amputated I swung my baton into his head, grimacing.

Panting I looked around and saw I dispatched the initial group, but more were coming. I could hear their feet squeaking against the hospital floor, every piece of debris they collided with acting like a homing beacon for every walker in the facility. The hospital was overrun and I couldn't keep this up indefinitely. Taking out small groups ten or more at a time was manageable for a while, but not sustainable. Walkers didn't get tired. I did. I officially overstayed my welcome. Check please.

Jumping onto the chair I grabbed the edge of the air duct, straining to pull myself up under the combination of my body weight and all my loot. My elbows had just cleared the edge, giving me the leverage I needed to hoist myself up when something locked onto my ankle. I cried out in pain as the joint was twisted painfully, straining to hold on as my body was pulled back with startling force. Screaming I dug my elbows in, shaking my leg in an attempt to get free. It was no use, this thing had my leg locked in a vise grip.

Looking down I saw a walker missing the skin on half his face and a significant portion of his body. He was also missing his other arm, but unfortunately for me he still had the most vital part of his anatomy, his teeth. He pulled on my ankle, angling his head to the side so he could sink his black teeth into my flesh. I kicked wildly with my other foot, the heel of my boot slamming into his chin and causing him stumble slightly, but his grip on my ankle never loosened. Attention K-Mart shoppers, we have a Stage 5 clinger.

My muscles burned under the strain of keeping myself half in the vent, my body shaking with effort. I heard more groans in the pharmacy, and knew the rest of the dinner party had arrived. I could barely hold off one. I would be no match for two. If I fell I was dead and so was Daryl.

Daryl.

With renewed effort I kicked, fury replacing fatigue. He was keeping me from Daryl and that enraged me. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crunch, his grip faltered momentarily. Going for broke I reached down with my right hand, grasping the butt of my second handgun and yanking it free, firing immediately once the barrel was clear of the holster. The shot was deafening without a silencer making my ears ring.

The bullet hit low, striking him in the throat, not enough to kill him but more than enough to throw him off me. I fired again with my non-dominant hand, my arms shaking. ears ringing, and this time my aim was true. The bullet tore through his forehead, his dead eyes rolling into the back of what was left of his skull. Wasting no time I grunted and pulled until my entire body was back safely in the air duct. The walkers below growled in frustration, their teeth chattering as they snapped their jaws wildly, pacing back-and-forth beneath the opening.

I lay in the air duct, trying to catch my breath and assess my body for injuries. Patting myself down I didn't feel any blood so I rolled my ankle, feeling a tinge of pain, but it wasn't bad, just a sprain. I occurred to me I was lying in a small space and wasn't hyperventilating. Apparently all you needed to overcome one fear was to replace it with another. I would take air ducts over walkers any day of the week.

On autopilot my body started to move forward, crawling my way back to the elevator shaft. Once there I wasted no time pulling myself out, and began the arduous climb back up. I was exhausted, my body trembling more and more with each passing second. My grip strength was failing, my fingers clumsy. My legs felt impossibly heavy, each time I was forced use them to push my weight up bringing me close to tears. I couldn't feel my arms. I was forced to take several breaks, shaking out aching muscles with no relief. It didn't help I hadn't eaten since last night, and I hadn't slept since sometime before that. Bottom line, I was a hot, exhausted mess.

At the top of the elevator shaft I rested for another minute, eyeing the dangling rope in the middle of the shaft like it owed me money. I was almost home free. This was the easy part. All I had to do was jump for a rope that was about five feet away, grab it, somehow manage to hang on then haul my ass 20 feet straight up.

WWDD? What would Daryl do?

Dragging my tongue over my teeth I muttered, "Ain't no bitch."

My inner Daryl nodded with approval, and I was suddenly thankful for every minute I spent with the unreasonable hillbilly. I still had no idea what the phrase actually meant since he used it to answer questions as mundane as "how can you sleep like that?", but I personally witnessed it help him achieve the otherwise impossible so I went with it.

Even as my body failed me my mind did not. It wouldn't let me forget what was at stay. Anytime I thought I couldn't keep going, couldn't take another step, couldn't climb another foot, his name played on repeat in my mind until I did. Every step forward, every inch I climbed, one step closer to saving him.

I rested my forehead against the elevator shaft, squeezing my eyes closed as I took several measured breaths. This was the biggest test in my self-imposed gauntlet. If I made the jump Daryl still had a fighting chance. If I didn't we both died. My muscles tightened in anticipation as I coiled myself into a ball before leaping from the wall, twisting my body around as I stretched my arms out for the thin, dangling climbing rope. My hands wrapped around it and my heart soared, but when I felt the rope slipping through my hands, burning my palms my heart got lodged in my throat. Frantically I curled my fingers around the rope as my feet fumbled to find a hold. Finally I was able to get the rope secured between the rope, one foot stepping on the other to lock it in place, stopping my fall. Sweat poured from my face as I hung in the shaft, my heart hammering in my chest. I looked up, bringing my knees to my chest and adjusting the positioning of my feet on the rope before standing up and moving my hands higher. I repeated the process over-and-over, methodically making my way up the shaft. It was slow, grueling and painful work. When I finally saw the flat surface of the duct above me a sobbed punched it way out of my lungs as I finally pulled myself back onto the flat surface. Using my elbows and knees I slithered forward like a snake towards the exit until my body tumbled out of the shaft onto the hospital roof.

My muscles were screaming as I gasped for air lying on my stomach, face planted against the blacktop, the weight of my pack crushing my lungs. The cool air blowing against my face was a stark contrast to the stagnant air of the hospital. The sun had traveled a significant distance across the sky while I was looting, and was now in the east, barely visible above the tree line.

 _"I'll be back tonight. If I'm not back by then I'm not coming back at all."_

I felt my consciousness ebbing away, and my thoughts, as clear and concise as they had been only moments ago harder to focus. My eyes were heavy, my body disconnected as I lay there struggling to overcome the debilitating weakness pumping through my body. Groaning I pushed myself up, slowly making my way onto all fours before climbing to unsteady feet. I shuffled to the ledge, my body running on pure adrenaline and self-preservation at this point, but both tanks were nearly empty. I was exhausted and still had a ways to go until I was back. Because I stubbornly refused to take the map Rick offered if I didn't make it back by tonight they'd likely think me dead. Every step hurt, my throat parched with thirst, but I was going to do this or die trying. Probably die trying.

Daryl.

Once again his name snapped me out of my pity party as I untied the rope and tucked it. The group may think me reckless but the reality was exactly the opposite. I wasn't the loose cannon I appeared to be. I was always evaluating the situation, assessing options and taking calculate risks based on likely outcomes. I made a living doing it. This was no different. Daryl was in trouble and I was his only hope of survival. This plan looked crazy, the scenario unwinnable, and for most it would be, but not me. I wasn't your average survivor.

Moving to the edge of the roof I surveyed the ground and cursed, shaking my head at the group of walkers. I debated picking them off one-by-one, but conserving ammunition was critical. I needed to save it for when I had no other options. So instead of a little target practice I dug into my pack, eyeing the small group and the red flare in my hand. This better freakin' work.

Removing the cap I exposed the flare and rubbed the end of it briskly against the coarse striking surface of the cap. It lit up instantly, a bright red spray ignited at one end as turned my head. Walking forward I leaned over the edge, waving the flare overhead, the walkers heads following it back-and-forth obediently. I walked slowly to the left, the walkers following me in a trance as they moaned at the red light. Once I was at the far edge of the roof I tossed the flare away from the building and whispered a silent _"go fetch"._

They scrambled after the bait and I rushed back to the drainage pipes. I wasted no time climbing down, the descent much harder given my current state and the weight I carried. I was halfway down when the mounting hardware I was holding onto snapped off the wall, my cramping fingers unable to hold onto the small, awkwardly shaped metal. I watched in morbid fascination as it fell in slow motion, end-over-end, pinging off the ground before darting sideways and smacking into the side of a nearby dumpster, the sound ringing out a church bell.

My eyes darted to the walkers who were already turning at the sound, making their way back. I flew down the rest of the pipe in barely more than a controlled fall. I hit the ground hard, my weak ankle buckling underneath me as a spiking pain shot up my leg. I jogged forward, limping noticeable as I tried to ignore the pulsating pain in my ankle. I heard the walkers behind me, getting closer as I struggled to stay ahead of them.

"Damn it," I swore, pushing myself faster, ignoring the burning ache in my ankle that was sending shooting pains up and down my leg. I was so over getting fucked. The next time it happened it better end in an orgasm or there would be hell to pay. I heard the walkers and knew I wouldn't make it to the bike before they overtook me. Turning swiftly I grabbed both guns, firing with wild abandon at the walkers. The booming sound of the gun sans the silencer gained the attention of every walker outside. The enormous herd moved as one, shifting like a flock of birds coming straight at me.

I fired again and again, backing up slowly as I systematically dispatched the small group. When the last one went down I stowed my weapons and hobbled to the bike. When I stood up to kick start it I yelled in pain, collapsing onto the bike, the swelling in my ankle pushing painfully against my boot. I tore away from the hospital as the herd closed in. The rumble of the bike as it carried me away drowning out the snarls of the herd. I felt some of the tension in my body begin to seep out as I put more distance between us, twisting and turning in the woods as I made my way back to the road. I was forced to slow down when I almost wiped out more than once on the slick pine needles covering the ground, but was able to right myself just in time. I sighed in relief. If I crashed this bike saving Daryl's life probably wouldn't be in my best interest.

Thankfully, I only _almost_ crashed once more before I finally made it back, but that wasn't my fault. Finding the headlight for this bike must require a degree in mechanical engineering. Less than half a mile out from the storage units I killed the engine, dismounting and struggling to push the bike with only one working leg. When I finally caught sight of the obnoxiously orange units I wanted to cry. Glenn was already at the gate, swinging it open and racing towards me.

"Alex!" he cried, skidding to a stop in front of me, eyes frantic. "Jesus, are you alright?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I followed his eyes down, taking in my appearance for the first time. One shirt sleeve was torn at the seam exposing some fairly gnarly bruising on my shoulder, my hands were smeared with blood from the rope, and there was a noticeable tear in the left knee of my pant leg that was slowly oozing blood. Gingerly I put my fingers to my face, pulling down my face shield, cringing as they came into contact with a dried, crusty substance.

"I'm fine." Apart from looking like I was shoved through a meat grinder. He didn't look convinced, but didn't say anything else. Probably because there was nothing to say.

He took the bike, nodding his head towards the storage units, "Go, I got this."

I squeezed his shoulder, limping as fast as my bum ankle would take me through the gate and towards Daryl. T and Carol saw me first and their shocked faces told me Glenn wasn't off in his observation that I looked like road kill. I smiled at them, but the way their faces scrunched up it probably came out more like a grimace, but I kept moving. My steps faltered slightly as I neared the unit, my ankle giving out when I stepped on it the wrong way, but a hand reached out, steadying me. Glancing over I saw Rick supporting me, a worried expression plastered on his shadowed face.

"Is he..." I couldn't finish the sentence, too scared of what he might say. Was he alive? Was I too late?

Rick shook his head, "He's alive."

I nodded, my lips pulled thin as I tried desperately to hold it together for a few more minutes. Stopping, I shrugged off my pack, handing it to Rick who looked confused. "Take it to Hershel."

He hesitated, but I shoved the pack into his chest and he nodded, jogging the rest of the way. I didn't see Lori or Carl and figured they were somewhere sleeping. I was thankful. I didn't want Carl to see me like this. It had to be close to midnight, maybe later, it was hard to tell. Rubbing my eyes I kept moving, limping heavily as I supported most of my weight on one side, my head down, my eyes unfocused. I felt like I might collapse with each step, but I kept moving, my body unwilling to stop until I saw him with my own eyes.

Daryl.

I finally made it to Hershel's doorstep and stopped. He was exactly where I left him looking no better, but no worse. My eyes traveled over his body which was now clean. He was in a different shirt, his face free of dirt and grim, and he was lying underneath a thin sheet. There was an IV in his arm, the bag hanging on the wall behind the stupid bed, and there were medical supplies strewn about like a tornado had ripped through the unit. Maggie, Hershel and Beth were fluttering around, digging through my pack like they were on a treasure hunt.

"Antibiotics are in the first zipper," I pointed out, four sets of eyes swinging to me in unison. "The cough suppressants are in the second, and the fever and pain relievers are in the third. The last one if full of all the IV supplies and sterile instruments."

Rick's mouth dropped open, looking over Hershel's shoulder as he opened each zippered compartment. Hershel found what he needed for Daryl, handing it to Maggie with specific dosage instructions which she shot into Daryl's IV with practiced precision. Total witch doctor. My eyes traveled back to Daryl as my shoulders sagged in relief.

"Alex," Rick said softly, coming to stand in front of me. "Why don't you cleaned up. Get some food, sleep."

"I'm fine," I insisted, "I'd like to stay here if that's alright."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't press the matter. "I'll bring you some stuff, but at least sit down before you fall down."

"Relax, it's nothing a coffee and two weeks of sleep won't cure."

"We don't have any coffee and as soon as Daryl's able to travel we need to move."

I frowned, "Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine."

He laughed, stepping forward and wrapping me in a hug. "Thank you. I don't know how you did it, but thank you. I'm glad you're safe."

Putting my arms around him I squeezed him, "It's not a big deal." That was a lie. It was a huge fucking deal and might just be the hardest thing I'd ever done which was saying something.

He pulled back, staring down at me, "It was. What you did...you didn't just save Daryl. Hershel says what you found will give my wife and child a chance. We could actually deliver this baby. I don't think I can ever repay you."

"It's what we do."

He nodded, emotions breaking through his normally stoic face. Smiling at him one last time I moved around him, stepping into the storage unit for the first time since Daryl collapsed. Maggie enveloped me in a hug with Beth close behind, and I wasn't sure how they could stand it given I was covered in walker blood and guts, but they didn't seem to care. On either side of me they grabbed an arm helping me to a chair positioned next to the bed.

"Are you OK?" Hershel asked softly, eyeing me with clinical skepticism.

I waved him off, "It's nothing, a twisted ankle."

"I'll take a look at it tomorrow. Try to keep it elevated if you can. Let me know if he needs anything else tonight." I smiled at him, thankful he didn't press the issue. He ushered Maggie and Beth out of the unit, and it was just Daryl and I.

His labored breathing made me nervous, but Hershel was confident now that he had the antibiotics and other medication to manage his symptoms we would see marked improvement mostly likely around the 48 hour mark. That felt like a lifetime as I watched the lifesaving drugs flow into his veins.

He as so still, so quiet, so un-Daryl-like it was unnerving. He was always selective with his words, only speaking when absolutely necessary and even then with as few syllables as possible, but his body practically shouted at you if you took the time to listen. He was so expressive with his movements, so deliberate with his actions, always moving, always on guard, never still for fear of missing something. Seeing him lying here utterly defenseless and unawares was absolutely awful. He never let his guard down, ever, and here he was oblivious to his surroundings as he fought off the infection raging in his body.

Scooting the chair forward I reached out with my hand, hesitating as I bit my lip in indecision. Glancing at his face my eyes watered, he looked awful and I felt my resolve shatter. Carefully I laid my hand on top of his, his hand cold to the touch. He was never cold and I longed for the days when I complained about his stifling body temperature suffocating me. When he didn't so much as twitch at my touch I wrapped my fingers around his hand, swiping angrily at a tear on my face.

"You can wake up now," I told the unconscious man. "You've thoroughly scared the shit out of everyone. Enough hogging the spotlight." He didn't stir. I rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb. Time to bring out the big guns. "I rode your bike." I leaned back a little, fully expecting him to shoot straight out of bed, murder in his eyes, but he didn't move. "I almost crashed it, a couple of times. I can't believe you call me crazy, but drive that thing on a daily basis. It's a menace."

His lack of response made my heart ache with sadness. I needed him to wake up, would do anything to see those striking blue eyes, even if they were glaring at me. Glancing towards the wall I spotted his trusty sidekick, and decided to go for broke.

"I'm going to take your crossbow for a test drive tomorrow," I added. "So unless you want me dethroning you as our resident archer you're going to have to wake up."

When my taunt was met with more silence I couldn't stop the sob that bubbled up. Leaning forward I rested my forehead on the bed, clinging to his hand.

"If you'll just open your eyes I promise never to make fun of your stupid, redneck sayings ever again." Tears raced down my face, my breathing ragged as I continued my one sided conversation. "Well, I promise to try really, really hard not to make fun of them."

I was girl crying now, complete with the quivering lips, snotty nose, and the inability to breathe. "You have to be OK. You can't do this. You don't get to barge into my life, make me care, and then leave."

Standing up I leaned over him, gently brushing the hair away from his forehead as my hand trailed down his face, tracing the stubble along his jawline. Hershel said he needed time, 48 hours, but it may as well have been a decade. Patience wasn't my strong suit, but I waited this long. I could wait a while longer. He would do the same for me. He _had_ done the same for me. In the beginning he had patiently waited for me to adjust to this group. His resolve never wavering, his belief in me never faltering, and I would do no less for him.

"You take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

Sinking into the chair I laid my head down on the bed, keeping my hand firmly wrapped around his. My eyes were heavy as I fought the urge to sleep, but it was no use, my body shutting down of its own accord. I drifted off, the only feeling I was aware of Daryl's hand in mine.

My dreams were chaotic, filled with walkers, death and grief, but I was so worn-out I couldn't shake them, couldn't seem to wake up even though I desperately wanted to. I thought I heard voices, but I wasn't sure if they were real or imagined. I struggled to open my eyes, to raise my head, but it was so heavy. I felt something rubbing against my arm, squeezing gently as I began to stir and relaxed. Sighing I readjusted my body, now half draped across the bed, my eyes never opening as I hovered on the edge of sleeping and waking.

"What happened?" It sounded like Daryl's voice.

"You're sick, pneumonia." Rick.

I wasn't sure if the conversation was taking place in my dreams or reality, and my body was too weary to care. I must have moved again because the hand on my arm resumed its ministrations, gently rubbing circles that calmed me, lulling me back to sleep slowly.

"Should be back on your feet in no time." Rick again, I thought, my mind slipping away.

"How?" Daryl asked, his voice scratchy from sickness and disuse.

Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that he was awake, he was better, and I urged my body to wake up so I could confirm it with my own eyes. I never heard the answer to his question as I moved my hand, trying to push myself up.

"Daryl," I slurred, my voice thick with sleep.

"Shh," he whispered, his fingers intertwining with mine. "Sleep Red."

Squeezing his hand I complied, sinking back into oblivion for a while longer.


	10. So It Begins

**So It Begins**

Three days later I was having second thoughts about saving the ungrateful, bedridden redneck I was currently standing next to. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I felt the pain in my head expanding exponentially with each string of word vomit pouring out of his mouth.

"Merida, we've been over this. You – Are – Sick. In fact, you came close to walking through the pearly gates and getting a little one-on-one time with the man upstairs so do me a favor...take it easy."

I'd have better luck convincing him to inseminate a Minotaur, but a girl could hope.

"That's bullshit and I ain't gonna tell ya again to stop with the fuckin' names!" he roared, pointing at me as he sat up in bed, his face murderous. It might have passed for semi-scary if it didn't look like he was about to keel over. "Ain't never been sick a day in my life! I ain't no bitch!"

Ah, my favorite phrase. Shaking my head I groaned in exasperation. Suddenly the pain I was feeling wasn't so much in my head as my ass.

"I'm well aware you aren't a bitch. I even wrote it down the last time you told me so I wouldn't forget, but the 'I don't get sick part' doesn't hold water considering you can barely sit up." My air quotes really riled him up.

They say ignorance was bliss. So was ignoring all evidence clearly confirming you were, in fact, sick. Daryl refused to acknowledge the medication pumping through his veins was assisting in his recovery because according to him _"that shit don't work on me"_. I guess his plan was to bitch slap the illness into submission. He stated 10,000 times he was fine, but the makeshift hospital we created out of a storage unit said otherwise. Ignorance wasn't so much bliss as it was just dumb. The man was a real life incarnation of the proverbial ostrich walking around with its head in the sand. Except this ostrich was a redneck with a foul mouth.

We were all so worried about him initially we hadn't even considered the consequences once he began to recover. "Normal Daryl" was difficult to deal with, but "sick Daryl" played on a level just shy of the wrath of God. They say doctors make the worst patients. Not true. Sick, pissed off, surly hillbilly's made the worst patients.

Poor Carl was getting quiet the education. Daryl was putting together such creative cursing combinations even I was impressed. He was going to have a huge toll to pay when he was finally released back into the wild. Lori was keeping track of every word not suitable for children, and let me tell you that woman thought suck was inappropriate. She was going to need a swear jar the size of an Olympic pool to handle Daryl's outbursts.

"Can you just try and corporate?" I pleaded to no avail. He continued to rant, curse, and threaten like I never spoke. Sigh. It was going to be a long day.

Once he regained consciousness no one dared ventured within 50 feet of the storage unit housing the recovering demon. Actually going inside, yeah, you could forget about that. I tried to rustle up some volunteers in my stead but everyone I talked to would sooner clean the bathroom floor with their toothbrush. I suggested drawing straws, drawing up some kind of rotation, even leaving him and running away, but they all laughed, patting me on the shoulder with sympathetic smiles. Hershel handed me prefilled injections of antibiotics at specified time periods, handfuls of brightly colored pills, and wished me luck with a grim smile. I tried to bribe Rick into giving him this dose, but he told me to put on a helmet and some pads and get in there while laughing hysterically.

"Man, fuck this!"

He tried to stand up, hell bent on proving my statement wrong, but was stopped by a coughing fit that made his whole body rattle. He fell back against the pillow, his face red from anger and lack of oxygen. Just in case I wasn't clear he was frustrated he grabbed a pillow and tossed it across the room to emphasize his point. I watched the fluffy bag of feathers sail towards the wall then fall to the ground without so much as a sound. I covered my smile with my hand, trying to keep my composure. Never thought I'd see the day Daryl Dixon threw a hissy fit. When he was finally better I was never letting him live this down, ever.

"Sittin' here watchin' paint dry ain't helpin'. We ain't got time for this shit!" Technically there was no paint in here, just concrete. No sense in correcting him and having him start all over.

"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. I risked my life to get these meds."

"I didn't ask ya to do nothin', damn fool. Don't need no help," he spat, red rimmed eyes burning into mine. When I stared at him impassively he added, "Stupid bitch."

"I think the words you're looking for are thank you."

He scowled and I raised my eyebrows in return. Those same words stung the first time he'd hurled them at me, increasing my already burning need to strangle him, but now they just bounced off. He could have been commenting on the weather for all I cared. I understood he was frustrated, and in a position he'd never experienced, weak, vulnerable and in complete reliance on others. If the situation was reversed I'd be much the same way, minus hurling projectiles at every available opportunity.

"Get the hell out Red! I don't need want ya here. I don't need ya. Don't need nobody!" He turned his back on me, and I nodded leaving the unit. I wasn't even out of the unit when he yelled, "And don't fuckin' touch my crossbow neither!"

Peeking back around the corner I clarified my earlier point. "For the record, I didn't break that arrow."

He rolled over, his face a little crazy as he picked up a water bottle from the nightstand and hurled it at my head as I ducked back outside, the bottle flying past me, landing on the ground a few feet away.

"It's a goddamn bolt, not an arrow!"

I leaned against the storage units, arms crossed over my chest as I grinned like a maniac listening to him shouting from inside. Glancing to my right I saw Rick and Hershel wearing identical expression.

"He sounds better," Hershel commented, chuckling.

"Absolutely," I agreed, slapping Rick on the shoulder as he covered a smile with his hand.

Daryl's progress wasn't measured by modern medical standards. The grumpier he got the better he was, and today he was grumpier than a CPA the night before the tax deadline. It was fantastic. I almost wanted to go back inside and push some more buttons just to speed the process along, but decided to head towards Maggie, Beth and Carol who were huddled together in deep discussion. I should pace myself. The man had more buttons than a universal remote. I could push more tomorrow. As I approached the trio they all smiled.

"Daryl sounds like he's in rare form," Maggie laughed.

"He's harmless."

As long as he didn't get his hands on you. It was important to keep an arm's length away from him at all times. The man's grip strength was only surpassed by his impressive repertoire of cuss words, even sicker than a dog. I was convinced he had a thesaurus tucked away somewhere, there was simply no other explanation for his creativity.

Carol grinned, "Yesterday I heard him tell you he was going to shove a bolt up your ass if you didn't get the hell away from him."

"Yeah, I told him not to tease me. It's been way too long since I've had anything shoved anywhere so he better stop making promises he doesn't intend to keep."

Maggie doubled over she was laughing so hard, while Carol hummed in agreement, and Beth blushed a shade of scarlet, her eyes wide. That poor girl was too innocent for her own good. I should give her one of Carol's porn books so she could brush up on the finer points, but I didn't need Hershel harassing me about corrupting his youngest daughter, again.

"What's up?"

"Just discussing if we should ask Rick for one more run before we leave." Maggie spoke up, Carol and Beth looking uncomfortable beside her.

"What's the problem?" Rick was a reasonable guy, most of the time. If we needed a run he'd go for it as long as it made sense.

"Well..." Maggie started, biting her lip before continuing, "We were kinda hoping you would ask him."

I shook my head. "This is getting stupid. Just walk up to him and talk like you would anybody else."

Ever since his _"this is not a democracy"_ speech people were weary of him. It didn't help that at the time of that particular tirade he appeared to be foaming at the mouth and admitted to killing his best friend right before dropping the proverbial bombshell that we were all infected. OK, I could see where they were coming from.

"Fine, I'll ask," I conceded with a sigh. "Anything specific we're looking for or just the usual?"

"Some warmer clothes," Beth added quietly.

"More clothes in general." Carol nodded in agreement with Maggie's statement.

It took me two days to convince Rick we needed the run. He was hesitant to allow it with our currently limited manpower, but finally agreed, more so I'd quit bugging him than anything else. So finally Maggie and I were loading up a car, ready for our shopping spree. Glenn was hovering nearby, anxiety hanging around his neck like noose. He lobbied multiple times to join our expedition, but Rick insistent he stay. Daryl was up and moving, but wasn't 100% so everyone else was picking up the slack. I gave Glenn a quick hug and then got the hell away from him and Maggie so I wasn't inadvertently hit with flying bodily fluids. Lord knows what I could catch from that. Rick followed me around to the driver's side door.

"Does Daryl know you're going?" he asked and I snorted, not even dignifying that with a response. That sounded about as smart as shoving bamboo shoots under my fingernails for fun. I debated telling him this morning while I held him down and shoved four pills down his throat, but his current mood was one step above homicidal and directly below fucking crazy so I passed.

"Oh Jesus," he groaned.

"Don't say anything. Keep him busy doing...whatever it is he does. If you get really desperate show him the other arrow I accidentally broke. It's hidden under the driver's seat in your car, but make sure to tell him T did it. He'll be so worked up he won't even realize we're gone."

"You're kidding right?" he asked annoyed at both my suggestion and hiding place. "It will take him five minutes to realize you're gone. I swear he's got you LoJacked, and stop hiding shit in my car."

I shrugged, patting him apologetically on the arm. "Good luck with that buddy."

Laughing at him as he fumed I climbed into the car, yelling at Glenn and Maggie to cut the cord already. We were going on a run, not traveling to Mars. Was it really necessary to dry hump someone who was only going to be gone for a few hours? Have some self-control people. She reluctantly climbed in, and I slammed my foot on the gas before they both started crying.

"You know, I'm going to bill you for the therapy I'll need later in life to deal with the sight of you two sucking face." She glared at me. It left something to be desired. Maggie's scary face needed work.

"Jealous?" This was her one and only comeback. Lame.

"No, I'm just worried I'll starve it I have to keep watching that shit. We barely get to eat as it is. I can't afford to be puking it up."

"Maybe if you were getting some you wouldn't be so concerned with us." I pursed my lips. I had no response to that. Maggie – 1, Alex – 0. "I'm sure Daryl would be happy to help you take the edge off."

"Stop." Well, this train had certainly veered off the tracks. "It's not like that."

"It could be," she said shrugging.

My head swiveled to her, "You think Daryl and I should be fuck buddies?"

I didn't necessarily have an issue with casual sex. Everyone had needs, and relationships weren't always practical, especially now, but the thought of Daryl and I being friends with benefits left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn't want just sex from Daryl. I almost crashed the car when I realized what I just thought. I didn't want _just_ sex from Daryl? Meaning what, I wanted sex and _other things_? What other things? The really scary part was the thought didn't freak me out near as much as it should have considering it didn't freak me out at all. Instead a content feeling settled over my body, my stomach fluttering with possibility. Screw therapy later in life. I needed it now. Maggie yelped as I righted the car, looking at me with big eyes.

"Sorry," I offered up lamely. "Squirrel." She frowned at me, clearly not buying my excuse.

"You know he feels the same way, right?" Oh my god, this was it. After everything I'd been through it would be riding in a car with Maggie that killed me. "He'll never do anything about it. He doesn't know how to deal with that stuff."

"Maggie..."

"Are you saying you don't feel that way about him?"

I opened my mouth to deny it, to laugh at it, but nothing came out. I wasn't even sure what she meant by _"feel that way about him"_ , but I knew I felt something when it came to Legolas, something that crossed the line of platonic friendship. Hell, it didn't cross it, it pole vaulted clear over it.

"It doesn't matter," I said softly.

She reached over, squeezing my hand in sympathy. "It could. We don't have much these days, but what the two of you have it is something. I'm just saying think about it, but don't take too long. You know better than most tomorrow isn't guaranteed."

She added the last part softly before looking out her window, lost in her own thoughts. The rest of our drive into town spent in blissful silence as we made our way towards a small shopping center. I tried to push the thoughts of Daryl out of my mind, focusing instead on the task at hand, more because I couldn't process those thoughts than anything else. Thank heaven this should be a milk run, but things could change in an instant and Maggie was my responsibility out here.

We stopped outside a rundown Marshall's we were hoping might have what we needed or anything at all. It had clearly been looted, but fingers crossed no one had the foresight to grab winter clothes back in the summer when this had all started. Maggie and I easily dispatched the handful of walkers milling around the entrance, carefully entering the store as our eyes swept for additional walkers. There were a couple over in lady's handbags browsing for accessories so I nodded, letting her know I'd handle them.

"I'll take care of them then check over there," I told her, pointing towards woman's clothes.

"Be careful. I'm going to see if I can find anything for the guys." I gave her a thumbs up, but she paused before turning, "What about Daryl?"

"What about Daryl?" I parroted back.

"He needs stuff too, but..." Yeah, shopping for Daryl would be about as pain free as a Brazilian wax job.

"Maybe they have a redneck section," I told her sarcastically and she grinned. "Just grab stuff that already looks like it's been drug through the mud."

"So dark colors then?" Yeah, sure, whatever.

"Don't worry about the sleeves. I'll cut them off on the way home."

She nodded in agreement. "The mojo."

"Damn right." No way was I going another round with MojoSutra. That bitch had a temper and a long Maggie walked towards the back of the store I carefully made my way over to the walkers. I counted six, and sighed, there went my outfit.

Sneaking up silently behind the closest one I slammed my knife into its ear, the blade sinking in easily. I stepped back, letting it drop to the ground. The other five turning in perfect unison as they immediately started towards me, banging into jewelry racks. Rocking back on the heels of my feet I flicked my eyes over each of them, studying, watching, and planning the best approach.

Two of them looked like they were turned recently if the state of their clothes and decaying bodies were anything to go by. The other three were further gone, so much so it was hard to picture them ever being human. Their clothing was ripped, torn into shredded pieces that showed their flesh peeling away from their bones like dried pant. I could see internal organs barely held in place by what remained of their form.

The first two came at me from opposite directions and I rocked forward, settling my weight back onto the balls of my feet as I kicked out at the first walker. My steel toed boot slammed into the side of its head as it fell over an earring display, the glass shattering as it sprawled onto the floor with a snarl.

Turning swiftly towards the next one I ducked under its outstretched arms, coming up behind it as I rammed my knife into its skull. The walker dropped and I bent down, trying to dislodge my knife from its head, but it was firmly stuck in place.

The walker I knocked down was back on its feet and coming at me so I abandoned the stuck knife, and pulled another from my waist. Without waiting I flung the blade at the oncoming walker, the throw unorthodox as I brought my arm up from my waist, letting the knife fly with a flick of my wrist once it was chest high. I didn't wait to see where it landed as the three other walkers were now practically on top of me. I twisted and turned, twirled and pivoted as I lunged, sinking my knives into their heads one after the other with deadly precision. Blood, gore and bits of tissue sprayed across me as I continued my deadly dance.

I ducked down, sweeping my left leg out wide, slamming it into a walker's shin, my legs cutting through the brittle bones and separating them from the rest of their body. He went down backwards, instantly flipping over onto his stomach and clawing his way towards me, his nails scratching against the linoleum floor. Bastards were persistent I'd give them that.

Breathing heavily I leaned forward, stabbing him in the head with brutal efficiency. I pulled the knife out, using his tattered clothing to wipe off the blood before moving back to the walker with my knife still stuck in the back of its head. Wrapping both hands around the hilt I placed the heel of my boot against her head, pushing and pulling simultaneously to dislodge the buried weapon. It finally sprang free with a sickening pop, my foot crushing her skull as I stumbled back a few steps.

A slow, dramatic clapping from behind me made my gut clench with unease as I whirled around, knives poised in either hand ready to attack or defend. Seven heavily armed men stood less than ten feet from me. If their stony expressions weren't a clear indicator they weren't here to play patty cake then the assortment of handguns, rifles and other weapons strapped to their bodies sure cemented it.

My eyes assessed each of them quickly, the casual way they all moved to spread out strategically to my left and right not going unnoticed. They were cutting off all avenues of escape. It was clear this wasn't going to end without a fight and I cracked my neck, my body tense with anticipation as I watched them watching me.

They all looked relatively clean and well fed, their clothes devoid of dirt, blood and grim. Their leader was an inch shorter than me, but stocky with wide shoulders and a large chest. The men behind him ranged in size from normal to super-sized. One in particular had to be around 6'5'' and easily weighed 260 pounds without breaking a sweat. His build reminded me of a professional football player. However, someone should tell him he weighed as much as a Volkswagen because he clearly didn't know. His clothes were so tight I had no idea how it wasn't strangling his enormous neck. He was shopping in the young men's section when what he needed was big and stall or maybe bigger and taller.

"That was quiet a little display," the one I assumed was the leader remarked.

He was standing in the middle of this shit show, a smirk on his oddly proportioned face. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but he wasn't fooling me. The tightness in his voice and the rigidness of his body told me he was on a hair trigger. He had short blonde hair that was thinning at his temples and a beard of stubble the same color covering his jawline. His nose was too big for his face while his dark eyes were too small and close together. His peripheral vision must be total crap. I almost had to cross my eyes to look at them, but that just made me dizzy so I decided to focus on his nose. There was no missing that thing. You could probably see if from space.

He took his time assessing me, but when he stepped forward my eyes narrowed in warning and he halted. I felt a smirk tugging at my lips, outnumbered seven to one and this pansy ass hesitates. He wasn't a fighter, not really, he was a wannabe if I ever saw one, but my situation was still precarious. Their numbers presenting a serious challenge. I needed to pull a rabbit out of my hat to get out of this one. I faced worse odds than seven to one, but that was a different time and was a very different person.

"You're a gifted fighter," he commented, "And beautiful to boot. Rare find these day."

There was something in his voice that sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I may be crap with names, but I was excellent with faces, never forgot one, and I knew I'd never seen him before so why did it feel like we had crossed paths?

The rest of the group laughed, vulgar yet predictable comments passing back-and-forth as they eyed me with interest. I had heard it all before though I'd never truly given much thought to my appearance. In my youth I despised it and now it was a deadly liability. Anything not directly related to survival was frivolous and being pretty was at the top of that list. Now it put a target on your back you weren't likely to shake. Now it could mean a fate much worse than death.

I spun the knife in my left hand, dragging my tongue over my teeth in distaste at his comment. A couple of the them whistled in appreciation, nudging each other with their shoulders as their faces took on an lustful look that made bile rise in my throat. If any part of them touched me they wouldn't be getting it back that I could guarantee.

"You alone?" the leader asked, eyes darting around the store.

The air seized in my lungs as I remembered Maggie. I fought to keep my face blank even as I felt sweat dripping down the back of my neck in fear. I hoped she saw them before I had, that she was hidden and was hidden and safe.

The leader flicked a hand and a few of them broke off, making their way through the store with their weapons ready, searching. I kept my body relaxed and my face impassive as the leader watched me closely, the search party was loud and clumsy as they surveyed the store, like a herd of elephants stampeding. While they men searched my mind raced to figure out the right play. Did I lie and say I was alone to protect Maggie and the group or admit to being with others in an effort to make them doubt their advantage?

In the end, my need to protect the group won out. Maggie was a decent fighter, but she wouldn't last long against this group. These guys weren't in line when they handed out morale compasses, and I refused to let them anywhere near her if I could help it. I was good at reading people, always had been. It was one of the reasons my life turned out like it did, and something told me if they thought there was a group nearby they would sniff around until they found them, no matter the size. That was not something I could allow.

"Yeah," I sneered, my eyes daring him to contradict me.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"

He eyed me again. Taking in my blood spattered clothes, worn boots and general disheveled appearance. It had been a while since I last cleaned properly, my hair dirty and piled on top of my head in a bun that probably looked more like a bird's nest than anything. I knew my eyes were bloodshot, had seen that much in the car's rearview mirror this morning. Sleeping more than a few hours at a time just wasn't possible anymore, and ever since Daryl got sick I hadn't even gotten that much. Too worried about him in the beginning and then too busy making sure he didn't maim anyone once he was better. My exhaustion clearly showed, and looking as I did it wasn't a stretch to believe I was living alone on the road. Guess horrendous personal hygiene had its perks.

"Have we met?" he asked and I frowned, shaking my head no. I'd remember a douche bag this big. "Hmm, I swear I've seen you before. That hair...it's pretty memorable." I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was right and that annoyed me. My hair was a giant calling card, always had been. The next chance I got I was having Beth dye it the most boring color of brown we could find. "I'm not sure I've ever seen that shade of red before."

His comment made my eye twitch. My hair color was unique, and that was putting it mildly. I didn't like it, never had. First because it had drawn the unwanted attention of my father and later because it made it harder to fade into the background where I felt the most comfortable. All I wanted was to be left in solitude, but my hair seemed to scream come hang out with me. It drew people in despite my best efforts. It was hair that should belong to someone who was bubbly and outgoing, someone who had friends and hosted dinner parties. Someone I wasn't, someone I never would be.

He took another step toward me and I stepped back instinctively, my right foot sliding behind my left as I prepared for an attack, keeping myself just outside his reach. The way he was looking at me, his eyes flicking constantly back to my hair was creepy as fuck. Can you say fetish?

The rest of his men returned, thankfully empty handed, and I let out a sigh of relief they hadn't found Maggie. The one the size of a T-Rex eyed me with a distant look, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubbed his hand along his chin thoughtfully.

"No, it's not red. It's more of a light auburn with golden highlights, some so light they look almost white, and the way it's woven throughout the strands makes it sparkle in the sun like dew on blades of grass after a summer storm."

What in the ever loving fuck-balls was up with this guy?

My eyes widened, my face weary. I was clearly wrong about the one with a fetish. The leader groaned, turning and pinning him with a disbelieving look that made the man's face go red in shame as he diverted his eyes. This was getting all kinds of strange. I swear if either of them asked for a lock of hair I was outta here, consequences be damned. I wasn't usually one to judge someone's level of freakiness, I mean, I lived with Carol, but I drew the line at wearing other people's skin as a dress.

"What's up with Vidal Sassoon?" I asked cautiously.

"Please ignore him, I do," the leader laughed and I cringed. It sounded like Freddy Krueger's nails massaging a chalkboard. "My name's Luke."

The memory washed over me so fast I was surprised I didn't fall over. His voice, his name, I knew exactly where I heard it before. I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my anger in check as I glared at him, my hands shaking in fury. These were the same tundercunts Daryl, T and I came across in Senoia. The one's who were kidnapping survivors and using them as currency or worse.

"And you are?"

"Not interested." The rest of the men tensed, and I readied myself for a fight, but Luke just laughed.

"Have it your way Red."

My stomach clenched at the moniker, my meager breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. No one called me that, no one but Daryl. It was his name for me, his and his alone. When Daryl said it I felt my heart flutter and my body sing like I was a character in a Disney movie. Hearing it cross the lips of this douche canoe made it seem dirty, and for that he was going to bleed.

"I've got a proposition for you."

"Oh I bet you do." I didn't care what this guy was selling, I wasn't buying. I was all stocked up on bullshit.

He smiled again and it made my skin crawl. "We have a town not far from here where you'd be safe. We have walls, protection, food, somewhere you can make a real life. I think you'd be a valuable asset, and my boss has asked me to keep a look out for anything...special."

My grandmother didn't raise a fool. A cold-hearted, violent, bitch maybe, but not a fool.

"Pass."

He blew out a breath, rocking back on his heels dramatically as he grinned at his group, not surprised by my answer. It didn't really matter either way. He wasn't asking and we both knew it.

"Normally, women are relegated to more...domestic roles," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "But you, I think you'd be well suited for something else. The world's a dangerous place these days so having people that can fight is a valuable resource."

"Tempting," I responded, my words dripping with sarcasm. "But I'll take dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery any day of the week."

His lips thinned and he looked at me with mock concern. "I gotta say, that's not really what I was hoping you'd say."

"I'm sure." I saw the rest of the group taking measured steps towards me, closing the distance slowly but surely. "Let me make you an offer, you guys tuck tail and run on home to daddy and I promise not to hunt you down like the dogs you are."

Lie. I would find them. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but they would die by my hand eventually.

Luke threw his head back, a booming laugh erupting. "Your sense of self-preservation leaves a little something to be desired."

"Giving a fuck doesn't go with my outfit."

"Have it your way Red."

"Don't call me that," I sneered.

He raised his eyebrows at me, and I cursed myself for letting him get to me. I'd shown him a weakness, and he would use it against me now. Here's to hoping it didn't come to that, but I wasn't holding my breath as he motioned for his group to move in.

"No guns. I want her alive and unharmed, relatively speaking."

In violence we forget who we are. It was something I was taught a lifetime ago. Something I still knew how to use, but locked away as a promise to my sister. It was a true statement. I learned that lesson through personal experience. There wasn't a way to maintain your sense of self when you turned to violence, and it was pointless to try. Violence demanded monogamy, allowed no room for anything other than the pulsing need to unleash its ferocity on anything and everything.

There was a time when I lived to embrace the feeling, letting it consume me so I could feel something other than my own pain. I left that life behind, but the rage still simmered just beneath the surface of my skin. It was always there, always would be, and sometimes surrendering to it was the only way to survive. As much as I hated that part it wasn't what truly scared me. The difficult part, the terrifying reality, was finding your way back from the darkness. Nothing in life was free, everything came with a price, and every time you went down the path to bloodshed the way back got harder and harder to find. Shutting my mind down I readied myself mentally to venture back into the abyss. It was worth it to save Maggie, to protect the group, and that was my only concern. What was one more stain on my already blackened soul? I would pay that price 1,000 times over.

As the first man attacked my focus narrowed, the world around going fuzzy around the edges. The attacker's movements slowed as he came at me, the color in the once vibrant store fading to only black and white as I cocked my head to the side and waited, my body poised, my heart rate steady. Gone was the woman who entered to store with Maggie earlier today. In her place was a shell of a woman who understood nothing but brutality and communicated solely through destruction. These men had come here looking for a fight, but they hadn't found a fighter. They found a warrior. The difference between the two boiled down to motivations. They were motivated by reason, a need to live thus making them fighters. I was motivated by purpose, living to fight. I was a warrior.

Kill or be killed.

Focus.

I spun out of his reach as he continued past me, and I twirled around, landing a punishing kick in his lower back that sent him sprawling forward. I heard him cursing as he crashed to the ground, but my eyes were already locked on the next target, rushing me at full speed. Not wanting to risk the takedown I hurled my knife at him, his eyes going wide as he tried too late to alter his course. Luke said no guns, but he didn't say anything about knives. Plus, they wanted me in one piece and I didn't care how many pieces they were in when this was over.

The blade sunk into the base of his throat as he gasped, his hands covering the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. It was useless, blood was already seeping between his fingers and out of his mouth as he went down to his knees, an awful gurgling sound accompanying him. He looked around wildly for help, but there was none to be had. He was already dead.

Focus.

The mountain of a man could be John Cena's twin brother shouted a war cry, moving at me with more speed than a man his size should be able to manage. I ran right at him, confusion clouding his features as he tried to understand my strategy of taking him on head-to-head. The distance between us closed quickly and his huge, meaty hands swung for my head, but I went to my knees, sliding under his outstretched arm and plunging my knife into the back of his beefy calf as I passed underneath him. He roared more from outrage than pain, whirling on me as I jumped back to my feet to face him. He pulled the knife out without even a flinch and tossed it aside. Points for pain tolerance, not so much for intelligence, but then again they were under strict orders not to break me.

He charged again, a slight limp and I pulled out my baton and extended it, waiting for my opening. Out of nowhere a baseball bat came down on my forearm from my left and I bit down on a scream of pain, my baton flying out of my hand. Glancing over I saw one of the men grin at me before stepping back, eyes shooting away from me as I frowned in confusion. It wasn't until a hand clamped around my throat I realized my mistake. Instinctively, my hands wrapped around John Cena's larger ones as he squeezed my throat like he was crumpling up paper, my feet dangling off the ground, his face contorted in fury. I scratched and clawed trying to break his hold, but he was too strong and way too pissed for that. They say you shouldn't poke the bear. Well, you definitely shouldn't stab it in the leg either. My vision went black at the edges as my air supply dwindled. Desperate and out of options I went with 'ol trusty, a swift kick in the nuts. Some call it "dirty", but all bets were off when someone was holding by the throat like a Christmas decoration.

I swung my left leg forward, kicking him as hard as I could in the junk. He dropped me with a strangled cry, and I crashed to the floor, gasping for breath which hurt like hell on my bruised larynx. It was a race to see who would recover quicker and thankfully getting choked out wasn't as bad as having your balls shoved into your stomach. Pulling myself to my feet I snatched my baton and whipped it across the side of his head, his neck snapping with a loud crack as the light faded from his eyes. He didn't move after hitting the floor.

Turning around I awaited my next dance partner, breathing still painful and ragged. Instead I deflated when I came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun pointed at me from across the store. That was cheating. I dove to the side in a roll, coming up in a crouch behind a jewelry case, pulling out another knife. It was a good thing I always over packed.

"I said no guns!" Luke yelled, and instantly the gunfire ceased.

With a curse the three remaining men converged on me, forming a lose circle as I stood up, trying to watch them all at once. I slashed at the closest one, but he jumped back, narrowly missing the blade. One of the men lunged forward in an attempt to grab me, but I knocked his hand away with my baton before pulling back and smashing it into his stomach. He doubled over in pain, backing up to put distance between us.

I still had my PPQ, but using it was a risk. I wasn't sure if the "no gun rule" applied to me as well. If I started shooting there was no guarantee these dickheads wouldn't do the same. The man to my left kicked out with his right leg, but it was unpracticed and slow, and a blind mind could have seen it coming. I stepped forward slightly, absorbing the weak kick as I pinned his leg against my side, pulling him towards me. Balancing on one leg he had no choice but to comply and as he stumbled closer as I curled my hands into his shirt. I pulled his pinned leg higher in the air as he grunted in pain. Placing my right leg slightly behind his left I rocked his body backwards, pushing against his chest as I kept a firm hold on his leg. Unable to maintain his balance he fell backwards. In one swift motion he crashed to the ground, the fall punching the air out of his lungs, and I wasted no time plunging a knife into his temple. The whole encounter took less than 20 seconds, but it was enough for the remaining men to begin to understand, looking at me with a mixture of horror and fear.

Focus.

The one on my right kicked out, making direct contact with my left arm and catching me unprepared. My grip faltered on my knife and it flew out of my hand. Before I could turn to face him he tackled me to the ground, his incredible weight slamming into me and forcing the air out of my lungs in a whoosh. He swung a right hook into my face and my headed snapped to the side, blood instantly pooling in my mouth as he smashed my right hand repeatedly against the floor in an effort to loosen my hold on the baton. He grinned from his position on top of me as I lost my hold on the weapon. He laughed at the blood pouring out of my mouth, and I'll admit it was a decent punch, but Beth hit harder so he could take his laugh and shove it. The time he spent gloating gave me the opening I needed.

Planting my feet on the ground I pushed down as hard as I could while bucking my hips up. The sudden movement startled him and created the space I needed to twist onto my side. I grabbed his right arm, pulling it towards me as I used my left arm to pin his forearm to my chest. He regained his balance and struggled to dislodge my hold on him, but strength was no match for leverage. Using my left foot I hooked it around his right leg, and bucked my hips again as hard as I could to the side. He flew off me as I wasted no time rolling on top of him, reversing our positions before he could blink. Without hesitating I grabbed another knife, using both hands to plunge it into his forehead with enough force to jar my elbows and strain my shoulders as the blade penetrated the thick bone. Before I could move I felt the cold, steel barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. I let go of the knife, raising my hands up in surrender.

"I thought you said no guns," I told Luke as he kept the gun pressed firmly against my head.

"That was before you went all Xena Warrior Princess. I knew you were dangerous, but it's down to three against one and I'm not sure I like those odds." Guess he wasn't as stupid as he looked.

He told me to get up slowly and I complied because it was either that or a hole in my head. Turning around slowly I faced him, my hands still raised. A moaning sounded from behind him and I looked over to see the guy with my knife stuck in his neck reanimating.

"Take care of him," Luke barked out. The sound of the bullet killing the walker was so loud it made my ears ring. These guys were about as subtle as a cactus in a nun's panties. "Ready to go?"

I assumed that was a rhetorical question so I kept quiet. Well, this certainly had escalated quickly. Kidnapping one-oh-one, don't let them move you, and despite my best efforts that was exactly what was happening. The group knew Maggie and I had gone to the shopping center, and hopefully Maggie was alive, safe and would make her way back to them as fast as she could, but if I let them take me it decreased their chances of finding me exponentially.

"Check her for weapons," Luke instructed.

One of his men moved forward, a smirk on his face as he drug his hands all over my body. He didn't so much frisk me as get to second base, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This guy was so incompetent he could probably dive into a barrel of tits and come out with a dick in his mouth. He stepped back, my remaining knives and gun in his hands, nodding to Luke. I wasn't good at sharing hands. These bastards were going to pay for touching my toys.

"Tie her up."

Grabbing my hands roughly he wrapped them in a rope. The knot was so tight I was already losing feeling in my fingers, and the scratchy texture bit into my skin painfully. While I gave him an A for effort he let me keep my hands in front of me. Stupid. These guys clearly had no idea what they were doing. Good thing common sense wasn't more common.

Luke nodded, flicking the weapon in the direction of the exit and the man who tied me up grabbed my arm, dragging me behind him. I was shoved into the backseat of an SUV as Luke climbed into the passenger seat. He kept his gun out, resting it on his thigh as we drove away. He should have kept it pointed directly at me, especially after I went all Jean-Claude Van Damme back at the store. I amended my earlier statement. He was exactly as stupid as he looked.

I watched our route carefully, memorizing every twist and turn in the road. My time would come, and when it did I needed to be ready. My chest squeezed painfully as I thought of Maggie, the group, and one man in particular. Daryl. How would they handle me being taken? Would they look for me? How long before the welfare of many became too much to risk for just one person?

I knew Daryl would do everything in his power to find me regardless of Rick's decision. I knew it with a certainty I couldn't fully comprehend. Even now, miles away from him, I felt him. I didn't understand it, certainly couldn't explain it, but it was there nonetheless. We shared some strange connection, a burning need to be close to someone that couldn't be rationalized.

If anyone could find me it would be him, but he wasn't a miracle worker. He needed a trail to follow, and being transported in a car was the worst possible scenario. He couldn't follow a trail if there wasn't one. I could only hope Maggie saw which direction I was taken. That would give them a starting point, but I needed to hit the easy button. One thing was clear, I couldn't allow them to get me back to their compound. If they did I knew my chance of escape would be slim, if I lived long enough to try.

We hadn't been on the road long when Luke told the driver, "We can't make it back by nightfall and it's too dangerous to travel at night this close to the red zone. We'll hunker down at the warehouse and head out tomorrow morning."

Hello opening.

If I could find a way to let the group know where we turned off the main road they'd have a decent chance of finding me, and I would take all the help I could get at the moment. It was another poor decision on Luke's part. We were only 10 or so miles from the shopping center. He either assumed I wasn't with a group or if I was that they could handle them. You know what they said about assuming.

As the car slowed to make the turn I leaned forward slowly, careful to make sure Luke and the driver didn't notice as I slid my hands down my leg, grabbing a small blade I always kept tucked into my boot. Pulling it out I sat back up, concealing the weapon in my lap with my hands as I looked between Luke and the driver. I hope feeling up my tits instead of checking for actual weapons was worth it asshole.

"Turn here," Luke instructed. That was my cue.

Lunging forward I brought the knife down with bone crushing force on Luke's hand which was resting on the center console. The knife was small, but incredibly sharp and it sank into the middle of his hand like butter, the jagged edges biting into the console itself and pinning him. He screamed and I moved forward, wrapping the rope restraining my hands around the driver's throat and leaning back, choking him. The car swerved violently, the tires squealing as the driver tried to pull against the rope that was cutting off his air flow, hands abandoning the wheel entirely. Luke tried to pull the knife out of his hand, but it was in too deep and he was too much of a pussy. Instead his arm flew around as he tried to keep his skewered hand immobile and still aim at me with his gun.

I kicked with my right leg, connecting with his arm and making it jerk violently to the side just as he squeezed off a shot. The bullet slammed into the side of the driver's head, his skull exploding in a splatter of thick blood and brain that coated the window. My eyes went wide, looking out the windshield as the driver slumped forward. We were headed straight for a massive tree at the edge of the woods.

Removing the rope from around the driver's neck I grabbed at the nearest seatbelt, wrapping it around my body and twisting it around my arm as I bent over, curling into a ball as I tried to brace myself for the collision. The car impacted the tree with a loud crash, glass raining down on me as the crunch of metal rattled in my ears. My body was thrown forward into the driver's seat, my back radiating pain at the impact, but the seatbelt had lessoned what could have been a fatal blow. My vision was fuzzy and my head was pounding, but I sat up, letting go of the seatbelt, opening the door and falling out onto the ground.

My mind screaming only one word, run.

Pushing myself up onto all fours I struggled to stand, my legs wobbly as the world pitched sideways. Before I could right myself a fist crashed across my face sending me sprawling back to the ground. Blood filled my mouth from a vicious cut on the inside of my cheek, pouring onto the ground in a sizable puddle under me. I watched blood accumulate in morbid fascination before placing my hand in it, making sure to press down firmly, creating a perfectly shaped bloody hand print.

A pair of hands pulled me to my knees as Luke's murderous face swam in front of me. I blinked repeatedly trying to focus, my stomach rolling with nausea. I saw three of him, and all three versions looked mad as a three-legged dog trying to dig a hole on an ice pond. Wait, that wasn't right. I shook my head, my headache flaring and I groaned, swallowing own bile. Where was my hillbilly translator when I needed him?

I watched all three Luke's as they clutched their bloody hands to their chests, blood coating the mangled limbs, and I couldn't stop the laugh that spilled out. The one in the middle looked at me like I was insane and I just laughed more. This guy had no idea who he was dealing with. I wasn't going crazy. I _was_ crazy. I tried to sprinkle in some moments of normal for people I liked so they felt more comfortable around me, but I didn't like him. My laughing was one step too far for Luke and his hurt paw because he stalked forward, his fist slamming into the other side of my face. Well, at least my bruises would match. It was all about symmetry.

Without anyone to support me I fell onto my side, my back to the group as I lay in a ball. Reaching into my front pocket I grabbed the small rag I carried with me. It was one of Daryl's old sleeves that I cut off in an effort to appease the mojo, a sacrifice of sorts. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers, squeezing my eyes shut before balling it into my hand, concealing it from view.

"Get her up!" Luke barked. A pair of large hands grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. I stood unsteady, my legs shaking before stumbling backwards a few steps, falling in a crumpled heap at the edge of the woods. "Jesus Christ, pick her up if you have to. Let's go."

Two sets of arms looped under each of my arms and I was lifted between the two men, the discarded rag I left on the ground going unnoticed by either. They turned, dragging my limp body between them.

"The cars?" one of the men holding me asked.

"Get her inside and we'll come back and take care of them. Make sure she's secure."

The two of them continued to drag me down a dirt road in the direction of the warehouse. I felt the tips of my boots digging into the soft soil as my legs trailed behind me and smiled, my head hanging low.

A mangled tree from a car accident.

A bloody hand print on the road.

Daryl's torn up sleeve in the woods.

Drag marks down a dirt road.

Fuck the Yellow Brick Road. They might as well have put up a blinking, neon sign with an arrow pointing right at the warehouse that read, _Looking for Alex? Turn Here_.

Daryl was one of the best trackers I'd ever seen, and that was saying something considering I spent time with the guys who hunted Bin Laden. Even one of those things would have led him to their front door, but all three? They painted a particularly gruesome picture of my afternoon, and I didn't need a Magic 8 ball to know how Daryl would react when he found them. They'd be lucky if there was enough of them left to bury when he was done. If these guys thought I was bad they better brace for a serious come to Jesus moment because angry Daryl made me look tame.

They hauled me into a massive warehouse that was empty save for some mechanical equipment I couldn't identify. It looked like an abandoned plant of some kind, but what it produced was anyone's guess. There were cots spread out and a table which had water and various other supplies stacked neatly into groups. Clearly they used this warehouse as a hub when they were out kidnapping, sorry, recruiting.

The men dropped me and I fell to the ground, my breathing pained and head pounding. I was trying to find a part of my body that didn't hurt, but was coming up empty. Luke stalked forward, crouching in front of me as I pulled myself up to my knees, refusing to concede even an inch to him regardless of my circumstances.

"You're gonna pay for that," he promised, his face furious.

Before I could reply he nodded at something behind me and everything went black.

* * *

 **This is the longest chapter yet, hope that's OK. I would love to know what you think...can't wait to hear from ya!**


	11. Still Alive But I'm Barely Breathing

**Still Alive But I'm Barely Breathing**

Pain.

White, hot, blinding pain.

It was all I felt. It was everywhere, unbearable, relentless, offering no escape from the constant torment. Groaning as my mind slowly regained consciousness I fought the roll of my stomach at the one overriding sensation coursing through me, pain. I tried to assess the extent of my injuries, but my mind was as uncooperative as my body.

My head was pounding like a heartbeat against my skull. I felt a warm, sticky liquid trailing down my neck, blood, and knew more than likely I sustained a concussion. Someone needed to tell these guys you didn't need to hit someone that hard to knock them out. I'd be lucky if I didn't have brain damage, idiots.

My breathing was shallow and painful, an ache in my lungs making deep inhales impossible. Even the tiniest movement sent a searing bout of agony cascading through my midsection, burning a trail across my lower body. I didn't need Hershel's veterinarian degree to know I had a few cracked ribs.

My shoulders were screaming, so stiff I worried I'd never be able to feel them again much less use them. It felt like they were dislocated, and I tried to move them, do anything to lessen the strain on the tender joints, but a fiery stinging on my wrists stopped me with a hiss. The rope, I forgot about the rope. It was still merciless wrapped around my wrists, but they were now suspended above my head and I opened my swollen eyes, following the cord from my discolored, bloody wrists higher and higher. By the time I was done following Satan's leash I was staring at the ceiling.

Son of a cumdumpster!

I blinked, hoping what I saw was the result of my traumatic brain injury, but I'd never been particularly lucky. I pulled and strained, ignoring the throbbing in my body as I tried to dislodge my hands from the hook that was hanging from the warehouse ceiling, but I was too far off the ground to get the leverage I needed to free myself. As a side note, what the kind of sadistic warehouse had hooks hanging from the ceiling? This was officially the warehouse from Hell.

The agony pulsating through every nerve ending helped clear the fuzziness from my mind, reality setting in as I came to grips with the severity of my situation. I was hanging in the middle of the warehouse, the tips of my toes barely scrapping the dirty warehouse floor, beaten, bloody, and trapped. I tried to stand, balancing on the tips of my toes as I stumbled forward, sideways and back trying to alleviate the pressure on my injuries, but nothing helped.

When my toes slipped out from under me I grunted in pain as my body weight pulled against my shoulders and wrists, the wounds at my wrist reopening as fresh blood poured down my arms. I felt numerous cuts on my battered face as I moved my mouth and nose stretch and pull, the skin feeling too tight from the swelling. I could see fairly clearly out of my right eye, but my left eye was blurry, so puffy I could barely open it much less see. My jaw was sore, but it didn't feel broken, just a myriad of cuts as I traced my tongue along my lips tasting the metallic tang of blood.

"Welcome back," Luke drawled, standing up from a chair I hadn't noticed until now. I tried my best to glare at him, but since I was hanging there like a busted piñata it left a little to be desired. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep the night away."

"Girls gotta get her beauty rest." My voice sounded strange to my ears, horse and scratchy, my larynx sore from being choked at the shopping center.

He laughed, "Maybe you should go back to sleep then cause you look like shit." What a dick. I knew I looked like 10 pounds of chewed asshole, but I had the excuse of having my ass beat. What was his? "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid we don't have time for that. I've got a pretty exciting night planned for you."

That sounded about as fun as Edward Scissorhands giving me a back massage.

I tried to gauge how long I was unconscious, my eyes darting around the warehouse for any clues as to night or day. There weren't any windows so using the sun as a guide was useless. If the tacky blood still crawling impossible slow from my head down my neck was anything to go by it hadn't been too long. Head wounds were notorious for bleeding incessantly, but if I was out for any amount of time the bleeding would have stopped, been dry, not still tacky. My best guess was it had only been a couple of hours since they took me from the shopping center. It was almost certainly dark by now, and that made my stomach clinch with unease. If the group was coming it would be safer to wait until dawn which meant I was on my own until morning. It was going to be a long night.

"Comfortable?" he smiled, eyeing me up and down with satisfaction.

"How's your hand?" His face darkened, and now it was my turn to smile. It hurt, the cut on the side of my lip stretching painfully, but it was worth it to see his face.

"You won't be smiling by the time we're done." I snorted. This guy was so cliché, probably learned everything he knew about torture from Zero Dark Thirty. "Now, why don't we start off easy? Why were you at the shopping center?"

"I'm a bit of a clothes horse."

"And you say you aren't with a group?"

I glared at him, "Would I be hanging here like mistletoe if I were?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

He watched my face closely, trying to get a read on me, establish a baseline so he could tell fact from fiction. First rule of lying, don't try too hard. Never attempt to convince your captors of anything. The key was to let them fill in the blanks, draw their own conclusions, from the information you choose to divulge. Then the lie would form itself around their already established beliefs and predetermined biases. It helped to stick as close to the truth as possible, adding or remove minor details to create the narrative that suited the situation.

"If you were and they had any loyalty to you whatsoever I would have expected the cavalry by now. Especially considering your unique skill set." I kept a bored look on my face, if that was even possible due to the swelling. I probably just looked bloated. "Finding you is my ticket to a well-deserved promotion."

"Glad I can help you climb the corporate ladder."

He took a step forward, "What's your name?"

"Anastasia Beaverhausen." He smiled, his eyes excited by my defiance. Paging crazy, crazy, you're needed in the warehouse.

He nodded his head, one of his men stepping forward and slamming his fist into my stomach. The wind whooshed out my lungs as my ribs exploded in pain so uncontrollable I gagged, dry heaving. I coughed and sputtered, spit trailing down the side of my mouth as I struggled to breathe and not puke. If I didn't have internal injuries before I did now. So much for easing into it. These guys had no finesse.

"It's a simple question," Luke declared, his voice uninterested. "Why not tell me? It's irrelevant now. All you're doing is causing yourself unnecessary pain."

He was right, names were of little importance. The days of Internet searches and databases full of information were long gone, but I wasn't volunteering anything. My name may be meaningless, but it was mine. I refused to give him any part of myself. It all boiled down to choice. Choosing to give up information or withhold it. Choosing to fight or die. With little else at my disposal I clung to my choices with both hands, the only weapon I had to wield.

"I'll even start, a show of good faith, I'm Luke Cage."

My mouth dropped open and I couldn't have contained my laugh if my life depended on it which it probably did. I waited for him to laugh with me, to do something other than look like he was as serious as a heart attack. He had to be kidding, there was just no way.

"Luke Cage," I repeated, still laughing even though the simple action hurt like hell. "You can't be serious?"

His stony glare told me he was, in fact, serious, but I knew a lie when I heard one. If this guy's given name was Luke Cage than I was Princess Diana of Themyscira. No way in hell that was true. He reinvented himself after the turn when no one was around to refute his ridiculous claim. If he thought a name would improve his standing in this world or somehow bolster his pathetic confidence he was delusional. I honestly couldn't believe no one had called him on this bullshit, and therefore felt it was my patriotic duty to correct the injustice.

"Lemme guess, that's Matt Murdoch and Danny Rand?" The skin on his neck turned red, the flush creeping slowly towards his face in irritation. Man, he better pace himself, I was just getting warmed up.

"Last chance, what's your name?"

"Jessica Jones," I deadpanned. "Did I get The Defender's meeting time wrong?"

"Use the stick Buck." By Buck I was assuming he meant Matt Murdock.

The man standing next to him bent down, picking up what looked like a five foot long walking stick, clearly homemade, fashioned from an old tree branch. It was carved down until it was thin enough to tote around, but still sturdy enough to use.

This was going to suck.

Before I could ready myself Buck reared back, swinging the stick into my shins with enough force to break bones. I screamed, I couldn't stop myself, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse. He swung again, slightly higher on my leg this time, how kind, tears spilling down my face. He hit me again and I screamed. I screamed so loud and so long my voice cracked and my legs gave out, unable to support my weight under the brutal assault. I slumped down, my shoulders and wrists burning as I hung there, struggling to breathe, think, survive.

Luke walked forward, wagging his finger in front of me, making a _"tsk tsk"_ noise as I tried to stand, but my legs failed me. I pressed my lips together as I watched him, hatred expanding like a balloon in my body. Hatred was good, I could use that, anything to distract me from excruciating pulses radiating through my body. Pain was useless. It wouldn't get me out of this warehouse. Unfortunately, it demanded you feel it unless you found something else to replace it, and hatred would do just fine.

"I'm going to kill you," I promised and he laughed.

Narrowing my eyes I cemented the vow in my mind, hanging there in the middle of that deserted warehouse, I promised myself this man would die by my hand. The last face he saw on this miserable Earth would be mine. He was already dead. He just didn't know it yet.

He leered at me, loving every minute of my torture before motioning to Buck who walked behind me, the stick connecting with the back of my thigh with such force I heard the solid wood crack. I sagged again, unable to stand, my wrists curling around the rope above my head, trying to use my arms to hold myself up. The pain from the strike didn't register, and I knew my brain was prioritizing, shutting off pain receptors as a self-preservation mechanism. Luke reached forward, tilting my chin up, forcing me look directly at him.

"I'm going to break you."

The sadistic gleam in his eyes told me believed he could, and would enjoy every minute of it. He made one crucial error though. He had no idea who he was dealing with. He didn't have the time, stamina or knowledge to break my resolve. He was better off putting a bullet in my brain and calling it day.

"It'll take more than someone like you."

"We'll see," he dared. "Let her down."

The hook holding me up was lowered and I sunk to the ground, a groan escaping my lips. The relief on my shoulders and wrists was a welcomed change, but the stiffness in my joints and tenderness in my legs made me seriously question the structural integrity of my body. If this continued I wouldn't be able to crawl out of here much less escape with my usual flare.

Suddenly I was hauled to my feet, two sets of hands wrapped around my arms supporting me. They drug me to a nearby water basin, depositing me on my knees in front of it. I peered into the black container, already understanding the next step and mentally preparing myself. The basin was filled to the brim with water and I shook my head, such a waste of a precious resource.

"Now, when we get back to our compound I can't have you misbehaving, it'll make me look bad. I need you compliant and willing. So, we're going to make sure we break your annoying habit of defiance," Luke informed me. "The Governor doesn't tolerate disobedience."

"The Governor?" Of all the stupid shit I'd heard that took the cake. I shook my head, "That's what you call your boss?"

"Our boss Red." I ground my teeth at the name, my eyes flicking to him. "And yes, it is."

"To his face?"

First Luke Cage, now The Governor? You didn't even have to try to make fun of them. The names did it for you. It kinda took all the fun out of it.

My quip earned me a boot to my kidneys and I smashed against the water basin before falling to the ground on my side. Luke sighed, motioning for the men to pick me up.

"We need fighters, people who can keep our community safe. Not the pussy whipped wannabes we've come across lately. I'm taking you back and you're going to do The Governor's bidding. It's a good deal. Food, shelter, medicine and in return you protecting our people and take care of any complications." He waited for me to respond, and when I didn't he grabbed my chin, turning me to face him. "Well?"

"Sorry, I wasn't listening. I tune out bullshit. It's a medical condition."

The next thing I knew my face was submerged in the water, two strong sets of hands holding me down. I told myself to stay calm and still even as my mind told me to fight, struggle, anything to breathe. Closing my eyes I tried to think of another place, another time, something to calm my chaotic mind as I waited to be released from my watery prison. I knew they would release me. If they wanted me dead they'd just kill me. The Guantanamo Bay routine screamed loud and clear they wanted me alive. Clearly, they wanted something only I could provide, and that gave me the upper hand. Even drowning in a tub of water I won this fight before it ever started. I told myself I'd done this before. I could do it again.

Stay calm. Stay still. Conserve your oxygen. Survive.

I could hold my breath for almost two minutes under ideal circumstances, but this passed ideal somewhere back at the shopping center. My lungs burned as tiny bubbles rose in the water around my face as I quickly ran out of air. Just before I inhaled a gulp of water I was pulled back and thrown down to the floor on my back, gasping for air and coughing all at the same time.

"Had enough?" Luke ridiculed, standing over me.

"You may as well kill me Lucy. I'll never do what you're asking."

"Luke."

"Keep telling yourself that."

He laughed, but the vein popping out on his neck betrayed his ire. Pointing down at me the two men picked me up again, instantly dunking me back in the water. I was less prepared this time and knew it would only get progressively worse each time until I eventually drowned. That was the end of this particular game no matter how you sliced it. My vision darkened around the edges, my throat contracting painfully as my body warped into an awkward position I couldn't control, my survival instincts overriding years of training. I swallowed a mouth full of water just as I was yanked out and tossed to the floor. I coughed, water pouring out of my mouth as my ribs burned like a raging fire.

I had no idea how long this would continue, but knew I wouldn't be able to take much more. These guys had no idea how much or little the human body could endure in any given situation, but I did. I was intimately familiar with my limits, what my body could tolerate and keep going, but I needed to make a choice. I had to decide if I would use the skills I long since abandoned to suffer through what they planned or would I simply give up. Everything was a choice, fight or quit, live or die.

It was time to make my choice. Did I believe I could get out of this alive? Did I have the strength to fight one more time?

Choose.

All I needed was a reason to continue. Daryl's face floating through my weary mind, and I realized I already made my choice a long time ago. I trusted my group and I believed in Daryl even when he hardly believed in himself. I knew they were coming, and I had once promised him I would do everything in my power to fight my way back if we were ever separated. Words never meant much to Daryl having grown up in a world filled with lies, but actions he trusted. Actions he believed in. His loyalty wasn't bought with empty words, but with quantifiable actions. He trusted me, trusted my promise to him, and I refused to be another broken promise. I could take the physical pain. I could survive this, for him.

"You can stop this anytime. Just say the word, and we'll get you medical attention and food. Trust me, life with The Governor isn't bad once you get used to it."

Too tired to respond I just waited for the next evolution to begin. I closed my eyes and blocked out the sight, smell and feel of the warehouse. My grandmother told me memories were a diary we carried with us. I flipped through mine, searching for something else to focus on. I heard my sister's laughter, felt my grandparent's love, a litany of better times from a very different world. The pages zipped forward and I saw my life in the military, a time filled with equal parts joy and suffering. The last chapter was the most recent, filled with the faces of a family not related by blood, but choice. I could see their smiles, hear their voices, one shinning brighter than all the rest. His strong, southern accent urging me on was like a balm to my weary soul.

They were coming.

He was coming.

And if they didn't make it in time I had my fallback plan, and it was fairly straightforward, death. If they didn't make it in time I would make sure I died on this dingy floor. I refused to let The Governor use me as a weapon against those who refused to bend a knee.

"Still thinking it over?" Luke whispered close to my ear. "Take your time."

I was plunged back into the water, my fight against the men holding me weak at best. I could feel myself slipping, my body relaxing, it was peaceful, quiet. Death was like that. I thrashed once more before water rushed into my lungs and suddenly I didn't hurt anymore.

 _"Grandma, do you think mommy's in heaven?" my sister asked as we sat in the kitchen watching her bake cookies._

 _She smiled, her eyes sad. "I do little one. Your mother is finally safe, she's at peace." I frowned. "Why the sad face Alex?"_

 _"Mom isn't safe, she's dead."_

 _"Always so blunt, but you're right, she is, but in death she found safety she could never have in life." The calmness of her voice only served to irritate me._

 _"That's just an excuse to make us feel better. Mom made choices, the wrong choices, and it killed her," I spat, crossing my arms over my chest in anger._

 _"What would you have done dear?" my grandmother asked me quietly. Her patience an endless reservoir I could never fully comprehend._

 _"I wouldn't have married that asshole." Her eyes narrowed at me, pointedly looking at my little sister, but I was beyond carrying. "I never would have stayed."_

 _"So you would live your life free of mistakes? Your choices would never lead you to a path of regret?" I scoffed, not dignifying her question with an answer. Of course I made mistakes. I was making one right now, but my mother was something else entirely._

 _"Listen to me carefully dear, a life without mistakes, without regret is impossible. That path simply doesn't exist. You will get lost somewhere along the way, we all do. But you will have a choice to make, to continue forward, one small step at a time as you find your way back to the right path. If you do that, have the strength to make the hard choice, in time, you'll overcome your mistakes and be stronger for them. It's all any of us can do Alex, stand up on our own two feet and keep going. It's when you stop moving forward, stop trying to continue down the path that you truly die."_

A hard slap across my face pulled me back to reality. It didn't take me long to figure out I was hanging from the ceiling again. Well, on the bright side at least it was a break from scuba diving without an oxygen tank.

"Thought you were a goner for a second there Red," Luke laughed, but I saw the nervousness in his eyes. He hadn't meant to drown me, amateurs. "Can't have that, like I said, my boss is going to be happier than a pig in mud when he gets his hands on you. Are you ready to accept my offer?"

This guy was living in fantasy land. Even if he managed to get me back to his community with a beating heart there was no way I'd ever go along with this. He had to know that, right? They would never be able to trust me, never be able to take their eyes off me. I'd kill them all and be gone the first change I got.

Looking at the sweat that lined his brow and the worry seeping into his body one thing became abundantly clear, he thought this would work because the same thing was done to him. Someone sank their claws in him with nothing more than a few broken bones and a trip dangerously close to the white light.

The details didn't matter; whatever was done to him was enough to change him, to ensure he towed the line out of fear not loyalty. He played at being strong, but he was remade weak, submissive and scared. He didn't have the look of a man who understood violence. No, he was faking the funk and not doing a great job. My sociopath radar was spot on and this guy wasn't ringing any bells. He wasn't insane. He was desperate, desperate to appease The Governor out of fear. Now that I could work with.

I swallowed thickly, letting tears pool in my eyes before nodding my head at him. He smiled triumphantly, moving closer and putting his uninjured hand on my shoulder. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out, my throat dry and damaged. He leaned in closer, trying to hear me.

I curled my hand around the rope holding me up, steadying my body as I brought my left leg up with as much force as I could manage given my injuries, ramming my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, a string of profanity pouring from his lips. There was a good chance the strike hurt me more than him, but my pain was worth his pride.

"No thanks," I sneered at him, his head snapping up to mine from his doubled over position.

He roared in outrage, his control snapping as he drew a knife from the belt at his waist. He sprung forward, plunging it into my right shoulder with ruthless force. The pain was immediate and all-consuming as I cried out, not even trying to maintain my composure. He grinned, twisting the knife slightly as I hollered in anguish. He pulled the knife out slowly, enjoying the tears I was helpless to keep at bay as he shoved the bloody blade in my face. He pressed the tip against my cheek, careful not to break the skin as he trailed down my face and neck. He used my shirt to clean off the blood off the blade before putting it back in the sheath at his waist, stepping away from me with smug satisfaction.

I glanced down at my shoulder, blood oozing from the wound and down the front of my shirt at an alarming rate. I shifted my weight to my other foot in an effort to alleviate some of the pressure on that side, but my shins hurt so bad my legs buckled. I was shaking now, still wet from the water and now rapid blood loss.

"Let the bitch hang," Luke spat.

They dispersed and I heard them talking about posting a guard, checking the perimeter and getting something to eat. They left me hanging there, the blood from my stab wound bleeding heavily as my vision swam. My mind was working slower than normal, but I knew enough to know I was in trouble. I was losing too much blood, dealing with too much trauma from too many places. My body was shutting down, prioritizing the most essential functions in an effort to keep me alive.

I faded in an out of consciousness, hanging limply for what felt like hours, my clothes and hair damp, my body covered head-to-toe in blood and bruises. I completely lost feeling in my hands and arms, but unfortunately not in my shoulder, ribs or shins, and I longed for the oblivion unconsciousness offered. Luke lounged on a cot not far from me, eyes closed but I knew he wasn't sleeping. I didn't see the other men, had no idea where they were. Before I had passed out they were all eating around the folding table, but now he was alone.

"Buck, you see anything out there?" Luke barked into a walkie talkie.

When nothing but static came back his eyes popped open and he stood immediately. I lifted my chin from my chest, barely able to support the weight as I watched him. There was tightness around his eyes, stiffness in his posture that wasn't there previously. He was worried. A shaky smile formed on my lips as my head fell down. The other two must be outside checking the perimeter, but clearly something was wrong as Luke continued to try and reach them without success. A song popped into my head, one of my favorite ever since a brash redneck came stampeding into my life, and I couldn't help but hum along as the track played, my spirits lifting for the first time since I was taken.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Luke walked over to me, yanking my head up by my hair, glaring at me.

"Well, up in the backwoods, down in the holler. Old boy feeling like a dog on a collar," I hummed the iconic song that only ever made me think of one particular man.

Luke was perplexed, eyebrows furrowed as he watched me like I lost my mind. He wasn't far off. I was delirious, unable to think clearly, but somehow I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the time had come.

"Buck, come in." Nothing. He ran his hands through is hair as he tried to reach the other man. "David, do you see Buck?" Sounded like the rest of The Defenders were having a rough night.

 ** _Keepin' that chain hold tight. Waiting on Saturday night._**

The song was getting louder and louder in my head and I would have laughed if I had the energy.

"No, not for a while. He thought he heard something in the wood and went to check it out. With all her screaming we probably attracted a few bitters," was his reply.

I did chuckle at that, pain be damned. Keep telling yourself that bud. It wasn't walkers they should be worried about. Something much worse was out there stalking them. They were being hunted and they had no idea. The Redneck Reaper was here and he wasn't leaving without collecting a few souls.

 ** _Put on the smell good. Put on Skynyrd. Head into town like a Nascar winner._**

"Get back in here, something doesn't feel right," he said into the walkie talkie. When nothing but silence came from the other end Luke started pacing in front of me, looking around wildly as his alarm increased exponentially with each passing second of silence.

I kept humming, laughing hysterically, "Cruisin' back and forth to the Tasty Freeze."

"Shut up!" he roared, slapping me hard across the face, but I hardly felt it. A bitch slap, really? Who knocks someone out, beats them with a stick, drowns them, stabs them and then follows that with a bitch slap? I was almost offended it was so cliche.

He pivoted on his heel, racing towards the folding table where he left his gun, but before he could get close a shot rang out. Luke's body lurched backwards, the impact of the bullet spinning him around as he crashed to the ground five feet from the table holding his only means of defense.

"Everywhere you look all you see is Hillbilly deluxe," I sang loudly.

He rolled over, his wide eyes locked on my face, but I just raised my eyebrows. He looked towards the table at his gun then back at me, swallowing hard. He held a hand against the gunshot wound at his side, trying to figure out if he should go for his weapon. His body was partially concealed behind the water basin he drowned me in, and I knew given the location the shot had originated from he was concealed, but if he moved, just a little.

"Oh, please try," I taunted.

I knew who was on the other end of the rifle, and if he so much as breathed the wrong way Daryl would put a bullet through him before he could finish the exhale. I watched him, eyes darting to the table then at a back exit. I knew he couldn't make it to his weapon and apparently so did he as he sprung up to his feet, bolting in the opposite direction as fast as he could, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

I was disappointed. I wanted him dead, wanted to see him die with my own eyes, but it would have to wait. My strength faltered and my head lolled forward, resting against my chest as I let myself feel it for the first time since I saw them. All at once the pain, the fear, the almost certain death came crashing down around me and I let the tears fall unchecked.

"Cut her down," Rick ordered from somewhere behind me.

The rope slackened before he could finish the sentence and suddenly I was falling, unable to slow myself down, but before I could hit the ground a pair of strong arms caught me, lowering me gently. Looking up through my swollen eyes I saw Daryl, his blue eyes intense as they darted all over my face and body. I relaxed in his arms, knowing I was as safe while he cut through the rope, freeing my hands. I moaned in pain as he unwrapped the binds restraining me, the dried blood stuck to the twine pulling at the skin on my shredded wrist skin and reopening the wounds. He flinched at the sound, tossing the rope aside as he gathered me closer in his arms. Rick, Glenn and T skidded to a halt beside him, their faces pale as their peered down at me.

"We have to get her to Hershel," Glenn said as he handed Daryl a small first aid kit.

"Oh my god," T mumbled at the same time then immediately turned away, unable to watch as Daryl pulled down the collar of my shirt attempting to bind the knife wound. I whimpered when he pressed a bandage against it, trying to stop the blood flow.

"Hang in there Red," he said softly, wrapping it as best he could while trying not to hurt me. Once he was done he gently brushed my dirty, matted hair away from my face, his lips pressed in a hard line.

"Maggie?" I rasped, terrified to hear the answer.

He nodded, "Fine. Hid when she saw 'em. Came back after they left with ya."

I relaxed in his arms, closing my eyes and taking in a shaky breath. "Did you get them all?"

"We got the two outside, the third ran. Are there more?" Rick asked, gun still out, shoulders tense.

"Killed the other four," I mumbled. It was getting hard to keep my eyes open. Rick instructed T and Glenn to sweep the warehouse quickly for anything useful left behind, and they broke away immediately.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Rick asked gently as he knelt beside me, probably trying to account for my injuries before I passed out.

Daryl's face hardened, his body going rigid at the question. My hand crept forward, shaky and weak as my palm touched his face briefly. His eyes snapped down to me as he licked his lips, trying to regain his composure, the mere sight of my injuries threatening to snap his tenuous control. He grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers as I tried to offer a reassuring smile, but judging by his frown I only made it worse.

"Broken ribs for sure," I explained, my voice small, detached, clinical, like I was talking about someone else. "My legs might be broken, I'm not sure. A concussion two or three times over, choked, stabbed, drowned."

The pressure on my hand increased with each injury, Daryl's control faltering as he wrestled with his need for vengeance. Rick wasn't much better, his face the picture of outrage and disbelief as he looked down at me, a gentle hand on my unhurt shoulder.

As a cop he probably thought he saw the worst humanity had to offer, but he barely scratched the surface. It's tough having your foundation rocked so soundly. Understanding the true depths of human depravity, the things we could inflict on each other was a sobering reality check. I'd always known the truth, even before the dead rose, the only difference between then and now being evil was left to pillage the world unchecked. I learned this lesson as a child, Daryl as well. You didn't grow up with parents like ours and think the world was made up of rainbows and butterflies. Rick was different, they all were, but they were beginning to understand.

Their eyes saw it. Their minds struggled to accept it. It was their hearts that simply couldn't bear it.

"Drowned?"

A dry laugh spilled out of me, but I yelped in pain as my ribs protested, and nodded towards the water basin. Rick stood abruptly, striding over to the container and staring down at the water, his body frozen as he tried to understand. I wanted to tell him he could stand there until the rapture and not find the answers he sought. Suddenly, he bent down, lifting the basin from the bottom, his shoulders straining under the weight, but he upended it, water splashing across the warehouse floor.

I wasn't naïve enough to think his anger was reserved for me. Sure, he was appalled at what I suffered, but his true reservation was the realization it could just as easily be anyone from our group lying here. Lori, Carl or even Nugget could be taken, brutalized, and there wasn't much he could do to prevent it. He doubted his ability to protect the group, to protect his family, and it was utterly heartbreaking because the truth was he couldn't.

I looked away, back at Daryl who looked ready to snap, his entire body shaking as he teetered on the edge of a very dark place. I'd never seen him so furious, and I'd seen him pretty damn upset. He was so pissed when he found out I rode his bike his head spun around like the Exorcists, but the way he looked now made that seem like child's play.

He was looking at the ground beside me, his breathing coming fast and ragged, eyes unfocused. Physically he was here, holding me on the ground in the warehouse, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Daryl was a dangerous man when he choose to be. He didn't need to work at it, didn't even have to try. He was built to inspire fear, but instead of surrendering to his nature he spent most of his time trying to combat it, to keep it locked away. He didn't want to be like that, couldn't bear the thought of being like the other men in his family. He doubted his ability to keep his demons at bay, and I didn't want that, not because of me, not ever.

"I knew you'd come," I told him, breaking the daze he was in. He exhaled harshly, eyes snapping down to me before bending forward and brushing his lips lightly against my forehead.

"Damn right," he whispered, his lips still pressed against my head, voice leaving no room for doubt. "This side or the other." A tear slipped down my face, his thumb swiping it away with what I could only describe as tenderness.

"We got everything. We should go," Glenn said from somewhere off to the side, breaking the spell.

I saw Daryl nod his head, putting his arms underneath me as he lifted me with ease. I cried out, the pain from the simple movement sending shockwaves of agony across my entire body. My ribs, my legs, my shoulders, my head, everything hurt, and moving made it 10 times worse.

"Fuck, m'sorry." Daryl's voice was thick with emotion as he carried me out of the warehouse, clutching my body gently against his solid frame. My head rolled to the side, coming to rest against his chest. I didn't have the strength or desire to move it.

"S'Kay," I mumbled. And it was. I was in pain, but it was pain with a purpose now. Every step he took was carrying me further away from this nightmare.

"Why do this?" T asked the group as we made our way to the getaway cars. "What did they want?"

No one answered so I spoke up, "Me."

Daryl's steps faltered as he stopped, looking down at me. I kept my head against his chest, taking comfort in his scent that was a combination of smoke, the woods and something uniquely Daryl.

"But...they had you," Glenn stuttered, not sure how far or hard to push. I heard a car door open and Daryl gently laid me across the backseat, shrugging off his vest and covering me with it, his hand lingering on my battered face.

"They have a community, don't know how many, but they want Soldiers." Daryl's hand stilled. I opened my eyes, licking my lips as I tried to stay conscious long enough to explain. "It was the same guys from Senoia and they wouldn't take no for an answer."

His jaw snapped shut, his face all hard edges, the picture of retribution. He took a measured breath, offering me a smile that didn't reach his eyes before climbing slowly out of the car and closing the door, gaze lingering on me for a second. I watched as he paced back-and-forth beside the car like a caged animal, Rick trying and failing to calm him down. He rounded on our leader, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him forward as he roared words I couldn't make out. To Rick's credit he kept his composure, hands held high, movements slow and measured as he tried to calm the hunter. Glenn and T stood a ways back, not willing to risk getting caught in the crossfire.

I didn't know what Rick said, but Daryl's eyes darted away from him, looking through the window at me. He visibly deflated, running his hands through his already disheveled hair as he barked out a curse so loud I did hear it, even thru the closed door. He better hope Lori didn't hear it too. He looked exhausted and I was reminded it wasn't too long ago he was on death's doorstep. He released Rick, walking towards the car, opening the door and climbing in beside me carefully as he lifted my head, placing it in his lap. Rick got behind the wheel, starting the engine. As Rick pulled away we hit a bump and a sobbed escaped my lips I didn't have the willpower to stifle. Daryl gathered me in his arms like holding me would protect me from the pain.

"It hurts," I admitted.

"I know." He angrily swiped at his eyes, his features drawn as he looked down at me. "Hershel's gonna fix ya up."

"Kept my promise," I mumbled, my vision fading to pinholes.

"What promise Red?" he urged, his voice desperate. "Ya gotta stay with me, what promise?"

I just wanted to sleep, my eyes heavy and my body craving a release from the torment. I tried to keep them open, if only to have more time with Daryl, but it was no use, they were too heavy and I was too tired. I vaguely wondered if I was dying. If so it didn't seem so bad. Way better than when I died earlier tonight that was for sure.

"Alex!" Daryl shouted, shaking me gently, his voice cracking. "Goddamnit, open yur eyes!"

"Promised." Was that me talking? It didn't sound right.

I could rest now that I kept that promise. I fought to live, held on long enough to give myself a chance to be held by him one more time. The group, Daryl, had given me a reason to stay alive. They had been my choice. I reached up, blinding searching for something I couldn't put into words. As I felt his rough, calloused hand gently wrap around mine I felt a sense of tranquility spread over me like a blanket.

In his arms I was safe. I was home and I didn't need to fight anymore.

"Always." I blinked, eyes heavy. "Come back." My voice sounded far away. "To you."

I felt a sense of relief, a calmness settling over me as my eyes closed one last time, my body surrendering to the blissful nothingness. The sound of a panicked southern drawl shouting at me was the last thing I heard before I fell completely over the edge, and I knew no more.

* * *

 **Wow, the response to the last chapter was amazing. I hope this one lives up to the hype...let me know.**

 **Question, originally this story was going to end around the time they find the prison, but I'm thinking of continuing it. It would loosely follow the events in TWD. Thoughts? Yes...No...Hell No? Let me know if you'd keep reading if I did that. Thanks!**

 **FYI, the song she's singing is Hillbilly Deluxe by Brooks & Dunn...just in case anyone was wondering.**


	12. Just a Dream

**Just a Dream**

The feeling of weightlessness was the first thing I noticed when I came back from Dreamland. My body rocked forward then back gently like I was standing on the deck of a boat as the waves crashed rhythmically against the bow. It made me feel safe, secure, but that couldn't be right. I hated boats, despised water in general, so there is no way a boat should make me this damn happy. I felt a pair of arms pull me closer against a solid chest as I adjusted my body and sighed. I realized where I was and who was holding me. This was much better than a boat. His ass was so firm you could bounce a quarter off it. Could a boat say that? No it could not.

There may be an "Out of Order" sticker stamped on me right now, but like everything where Hawkeye was concerned my awareness of him defied logic. He slipped past my carefully constructed walls like they didn't exist, wormed his way under my skin, and invaded my blood until he seized what was left of my black heart. I knew these arms, recognized his comforting scent, had long ago memorized the deep rumble of his voice in his chest when he spoke. The urge to sleep was tempting, but I heard panicked voices flying above me and I fought to open my eyes.

"What happened?" Hershel. Only he could authoritative and concerned all in the same breath.

"Found her in a warehouse not far from here, her ribs are broken, maybe her legs. She's got a head injury that stopped bleeding but probably left her with a concussion, she was choked, there's a stab wound to her right shoulder, multiple cuts and bruises, and she was...drowned." Rick's voice was tight with anger, the last word sounding like it put a bitter taste in his mouth.

I heard Beth's quiet sobs followed closely by Carol's words of reassurance, always the optimist that one. Maggie's voice was steady as she asked her father what to do. The worst the crisis the calmer the woman got, clearly she picked up some Zen somewhere along the way. Daryl would be proud. Lori's gasp of shock lasted only a second before I heard feet scrapping along the floor and the gentle click of a door closing. It was a nice gesture, but I could still hear her quaking sobs like she was right next to me. The walls in this place must be made of paper. Well, that and Lori girl cried like a champ. The arms holding me tightened, cocooning me against his body, creating a shield against prying eyes. I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect me from the group's reaction or the world itself. Daryl, always the protector. That would make a fabulous T-shirt slogan.

I felt him bend forward, lying me down on something incredible soft and plush, something I hadn't experienced since before the turn, a bed. It was a sad testament to our times that you needed to be in the middle of a Code Blue situation to have the privilege of sleeping on something as soft as a marshmallow. Hershel called out instructions, presumable to his daughters since it was in a language no one understood but the Greene's.

"How long has she been unconscious?" he asked.

I wasn't unconscious, was I? Unconscious people didn't eavesdrop on conversations. Why couldn't I open my eyes? Why couldn't I move?

"Twenty minutes," Daryl answered.

He sounded tired and that made me worry. I wanted to tell him to rest, but since I couldn't swallow without wanting to cry I didn't see that happening anytime soon. As much as I wanted him to, no needed him to, he shouldn't have come after me. He was still recovering from his illness, and now he was paying the price for doing too much too soon, and it was my fault. The thought stung, hurt more than all the physical injuries I sustained combined. I didn't want anyone suffering for me, least of all him.

I felt a prick on my arm, a needle puncturing my sensitive skin, an IV, and I knew if I didn't open my eyes now I wouldn't get the chance for a while. Hershel's medication dosage tended to be a little heavy handed. The man filled those syringes with enough drugs to put down a Clydesdale. Made sense since he was a vet, but not everyone was a Clydesdale. I was more in the realm of a pygmy goat. With Herculean effort I tried to pry my eyes open, needing to see for myself that I was safe, that I was no longer in the warehouse, that Daryl was actually beside me. I needed to make sure it wasn't all a dream. I needed to know I was still alive.

"Daryl," I whimpered my voice hoarse as one eye opened then the other, my vision unclear due to swelling. I felt a hand clutch mine and then he was there, leaning over me, his face the picture of concern.

"M'here."

"Where am I?"

This place didn't look familiar. It certainly wasn't the storage units unless they decided to do a House Hunters Renovation while I was gone. I was in a bedroom, a real one this time, surrounded by antique furniture illuminated with lanterns that were strategically placed around the room. I heard the creaks of the hardwood floor as everyone rushed back-and-forth. The air smelled stagnant, moldy from lack of ventilation. It was definitely a house.

"Safe," he answered simply.

He didn't elaborate, and in truth it made little difference. I knew we planned to move on from the storage units and given our encounter with a hostile group it made sense Rick choose to relocate sooner rather than later. A burning sensation spread down my arm, traveling through my veins like fire. I'd had enough pain medication to know what came next, night-night time for the Clydesdale.

All at once everything churning inside me surged to the surface filling me with absolute terror. The most overwhelming of which was the need to not defenseless. Assuming Hershel hadn't dosed me with enough pain killers to stop my heart once they kicked in I'd be unarmed, vulnerable and completely helpless. My thoughts spiraled out of control like weeds in a garden.

What if they left me behind?

My injuries were substantial and handicapped the group's ability to move when needed, and I knew better than most that movement was life. It would make sense to abandon me. I was a liability we couldn't afford.

If I was a better person I'd tell them not to worry, that I understood and to go. In an alternate reality I was a selfless person who would smile bravely while telling them not to feel guilty. It made sense and it was the right thing to do, but there was one glaring issue. I wasn't a good person. I was scared and selfish. This group was everything I never knew I wanted, everything I never knew I **_needed_** , and the thought of being without them felt like a fate worse than death.

Daryl sensed the change immediately, his eyebrows furrowed as he sat down beside me, the bed dipping slightly at his weight. My breathing was coming painfully fast, putting pressure on my broken ribs that even the Clydesdale pain medication was unable to touch, but I couldn't calm down. My eyes were wide now, flicking around the room at everyone as I tried to contain my rising anxiety. I hadn't realized until right now how strong my fear of losing these people actually was. How scared I was of losing Daryl.

"Alex, ya gotta calm down," he whispered, holding one hand in his and gently caressing the side of my face with the other.

I shook my head, my headache pounding painfully against my temples as I sobbed, "Please don't leave me."

Later I'd be mortified at my words, embarrassed at my weakness, but right now, I couldn't conjure up even one fuck about it. I couldn't pretend to be brave right now. I simply didn't have the energy. Daryl's squeezed my hand his thumb gently swiping tears away from my face I didn't realize were falling. Before these people came into my life I was never a crier. Hell I hadn't even shed a tear when my parent's died (which all my therapists told me was a bad thing), but ever since I joined this group it was like I developed an allergic reaction feelings.

Someone almost dies, I cried.

Daryl gets sick, I cried.

We run out of ABCs and 123s, I cried.

The group had fundamentally changed me in a way I wasn't sure I understood. They became my family and the thought of losing them caused a pain far worse than a broken bone or a stab wound. People leaving was a pattern in my life. Whether by choice or death they all left in the end. I thought I was used to it, the feeling of never being enough, of being abandoned and alone. What I didn't realize until this very moment was I never accepted it I just found a way to survive it. Something told me I wouldn't be so lucky this time. You didn't make it in this world alone, you needed people and these were my people.

"Shhh," Daryl cooed in a voice I'd never heard him use. "We ain't leavin' ya." He paused, swallowing thickly as his eyes glanced around the room. He shifted closer, away from prying ears. He wasn't one for public declarations and the room was packed full of people, but he put aside his own issues to help me with mine. "Told ya, I ain't never leavin' ya."

I squeezed his hand weakly. I needed to hear those words. I needed them before, when I lost my shit in a broom closet, and I needed them now. My body relaxed, my breathing slowing down as he pressed his lips against my forehead gently, clearly uncomfortable with the act given the audience, but he did it because I needed it.

When he pulled back his beautiful, blue eyes looked different, and somehow, even through the fog of drugs and pain I knew a line had been crossed between us. I wasn't sure what it was or what it meant, but to me it felt like possibility. A shift from who we were to who we might be, in time. My eyes drifted closed, the pull of the medication too strong to ignore any longer, his hand firmly locked in mine. My last conscious thought only one word, hope.

" _Haley run!" I screamed, stabbing a walker in the head as I held another off with my other hand._

 _They were coming at me from all angles, pulling and grabbing, pushing and snarling in a circle as I tried to keep them at bay. I slashed and stabbed, dancing around them as I took them down one right after the other only to have another immediately take their place. I glanced back at my sister who was running for the truck and felt myself relax. At least she would be safe. I kicked the legs out from under a walker, my leg traveling straight through their decaying skin and bone like I was tearing paper. I jumped back, barely avoiding the ragged, bloody nails of another lunging dangerously close to my face._

 _I didn't care what happened to me as long as my sister made it out. I hadn't told her that, knew she'd never leave the safety of the store if she thought I wouldn't be right behind her, but my plan had only one goal and that was her living, period. My life for hers was a price I would pay a hundred times over. Hell, that was a bargain bin special. She was the best of us. After everything I'd done in my life death would be a mercy I didn't deserve._

 _A walker grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back with such force I lost my balance, tumbling down to the street in a heap, walkers pressing in from all sides. I heard Haley scream and my stomach clinched in real fear for the first time since I watched a husband rip out the throat of his wife while she tried in vain to protect her children. Plunging my knife into a walker's head I flung it off me with a scream, rushing to my feet as I cut a path through the herd of walkers with the knives in both my hands._

 _Once I was standing, I searched for Haley, my eyes wide with horror as a walker grabbed her by the arm, dragging her towards him even as she tried to dig her heels in. The dead were far stronger than the living and her feeble attempts to dislodge the creature sent a chill down my spine as her scream pierced my heart. I killed the walker right in front of me, jumping over the fallen body without a second glance and then I was running, pushing as fast as I could towards her. She thrashed wildly, trying to free herself, the knife I gave her on the ground at her feet._

 _I knew without a doubt I wasn't going to make it, I was too far away. I pulled my arm back, letting a knife fly, the blade twisting end-over-end as it barreled towards the walker who held her in his iron grip. It crashed into the side of his head, sending both of them tumbling to the ground._

 _Skidding to a stop I pulled the walker off Haley, tossing it to the side as I hauled her to her feet, dread pooling in my stomach like dead weight. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but it was the agony on her face that made me shutter, bile burning its way up my throat. Looking at her neck I felt a piece of my soul die right there on the war torn streets of Atlanta. Her shoulder was torn open, ripped apart so savagely I could see sinew and bone, a jagged piece of flesh missing. Blood poured down her body so fast it seemed impossible she was still alive. She sagged, and I caught her, pulling her towards the truck as the herd regrouped, heading straight for us._

" _Alex..."_

" _No," I interrupted, pulling her into the truck and closing the door then running around to the driver's side._

 _I kept my eyes off her, ignoring her moans of pain and tears as I bent down underneath the console, ripping away the steering column and inspecting the a roll of electrical wires that spilled out. Swiping at the tears on my face to clear my vision I fumbled with the battery ignition and starter wires, looking for the power supply for the ignition switch. I could hear walkers banging against the truck, making it rock back-and-forth as I fished a small wire stripper from my pocket, cutting away at the insulation. Haley's cries made my hands shake violently as I wrapped the battery wires together, twisting them into a knot, the cars console lighting up._

" _Hold on," I told her. She didn't reply and I couldn't find the courage to look at her._

 _Carefully I stripped the starter wire which was live, and touched it to the knotted battery cables. The engine sputtered, a rattling sound coming from beneath the hood, and I revved the engine to avoid a stall. Once I was sure it wouldn't die I detached the starter wire and slammed a screwdriver into the steering wheel column with more force than necessary, and the lock on the wheel snapped, freeing the steering column. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, mowing down walkers in front of us as they slammed into the bumper, traveling up onto the hood before colliding with the windshield and falling to the side. I didn't slow down, didn't stop, didn't think as I steered us out of the hellhole that was downtown Atlanta._

 _The entire process took less than three minutes, but as I weaved out of the overrun streets glancing at my sister and knew it was three minutes too long. She was dead the moment the walker sunk its teeth in her. She was slumped awkwardly against the passenger side door, her body still, her chest unmoving. I didn't know what I was thinking bringing her. I knew there was nothing I could do, that I couldn't save her, but leaving her behind to get eaten by those things wasn't an option. She deserved better. She deserved better than death, but I failed her, again._

 _I drug my eyes back to the road, my grip on the steering wheel so tight I thought my knuckles might shatter, and I couldn't control the shaking in my body no matter how hard I tried. Once I hit the freeway I stopped pretending to be strong and let the tears fall, weeping harder than I'd let myself since I was a child. When I put enough distance between us and Atlanta I pulled off to the side of the road, nothing in sight except a traffic jam doubling as a cemetery._

 _When the car stopped I sat there for a while my gaze unfocused as I stared out the windshield at nothing in particular. My mind raced with every thought imaginable, but I couldn't hold onto a single one. I was at a loss to decipher what I was thinking or feeling. Everything was spiraling in and out so fast I couldn't make heads or tails of anything. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, but the sun was setting by the time I opened my door. It took me another couple of minutes to step out of the truck, my legs like lead blocks as I moved at barely more than a shuffle. I stood in front of the passenger side door, my heart broken as I took in my sister's ashen face, the blood spattered window, and her lifeless body. The tears had finally stopped. My body numb as I ran on autopilot. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was in shock. Opening the door I caught her body as she fell out, and I squeezed my eyes shut, looking away from her face. I was no stranger to pain. I had even experienced death and lived to tell the tale, but this felt nothing like that. This was by far worst feeling I had ever had the displeasure to experience. The pain in my chest was so intense it felt like it might crush me. It made it hard to move, breathe, think, exist. Death was easy compared to this._

 _Adjusting her in my arms I carried her into the woods lining the highway. I walked and walked, stumbling more than a few times, but I kept going. I might have walked with her forever but when I climbed a small hill I saw a giant oak tree and stopped. Lying her down next to the tree I stood up, looking around. It was pretty here, peaceful. Haley would have loved it. She would have noticed nature's beauty, commented on how special it felt up here almost floating in the sky. She would have taken a minute to savior the magical feeling of this place like a gift. She always saw the beauty in everything, even when it wasn't there. Looking down at her I brushed the hair out of her face, wiping away as much blood and grim as I could, anything to make her look like my sister again. When I was done I collapsed next to her body, wrapping my arms around legs as I rocked, weeping so hard I couldn't see through my tears._

 _I knew what I had to do._ _I just didn't know if I could do it._

 _With shaky movements I pulled my PPQ from my holster, pulling the slide back and chambering a single round. My hand fell to the ground, the weight of the gun too much to bear, my head hanging as shuttering sobs made it difficult to breath. I leaned forward over her body and screamed. I screamed at the injustice, at the pain, at the fact I was still here and she was gone. In a second I lost my family and on that hill next to a beautiful, giant oak tree I mourned the loss. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down enough to do what had to be done. I pointed the weapon at her forehead, my arm trembling._

" _I love you Haley," I wept. "I'm sorry."_

 _It was never supposed to be her. She deserved better than this. It should have been me. I was ready for it to be me. I heard a strangled moan and looked down, the once beautiful brown eyes of my sister now cloudy and unfocused as they opened again. She deserved better than this world and if the only thing I could give her was peace then I would. I choked on a sob, closing my eyes and turning my head away._ _Then I pulled the trigger._

"Haley!" I jolted awake, crying out in pain as the sudden movement, pain coming from too many places at once to identify. I saw something move to my right as Daryl shot out of the chair next to the bed.

"Yur a'right," he assured me, looking me over from head to toe.

I was under a thin, white sheet, in clothes that were not my own which consisted of nothing more than one of Daryl's T-shirt and a pair of underwear, thank god for small mercies. An IV was in my arm with a bag hanging beside the bed on a rusty nail. My throat was so dry it felt like I swallowed cotton balls wrapped in sandpaper.

"Water," I croaked and he nodded. Unscrewing a water bottle and carefully tipping it against my chapped lips. "Thanks."

He nodded, setting it back on the nightstand as he sat down on the bed. I took stock of my body, my ribs were wrapped underneath my shirt and they felt tender so no surprise there. My legs were on fire, and I wondered what I'd find if I lifted up the sheet, probably every color on the rainbow, but I could feel my toes as I wiggled them so it was nothing that wouldn't heal, eventually. My headache was manageable, but I could feel a goose egg at the base of my skull that made lying on my back uncomfortable. I brought my hands up to my face, ignoring the cuts and bruises on my wrists as I gingerly touched my cheeks and eyes, trying to assess the damage without the aid of a mirror. Everywhere was tender and felt too big, the wrong shape and size. Sighing, I let my hands drop. I was a mess.

"Do I look ugly enough to derail a train?" He gave me an unamused look. "Too soon?" I asked and he nodded curtly. "Did I at least get it right?"

He rolled his eyes, "Nah, fucked it up as usual." I laughed and then I grunted in pain, stupid ribs. "Jesus Red, will ya take it easy."

I waved him off, taking shallow breaths until the pain passed. "Will you tell me what it is?" His lips thinned, not in the mood to joke around (when was he ever?) but he indulged me nonetheless.

"It's yur so ugly you'd make a freight train take a dirt road."

I grinned. "I was close."

"Were not."

"Was to."

"Not."

"Was."

He sighed, crossing his arms over his massive chest as he pinned me with a look. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. That shit didn't work on me. I was probably the only person on the planet that could say that. His demeanor shifted, just barely, but I saw it, dreading what he would say next.

"Who's Haley?"

Daryl never pried, ever. He was fiercely protective of his privacy. He didn't ask unnecessary questions and expected the same in return. It helped he didn't give two shits about anyone else's business. He'd shared small bits of his past with me, but most of the time it was anecdotal at best and only included a minimal amount of detail. To an outsider that might not look like much, but I knew it was leaps and bounds beyond what he offered others which was a big, fat nothing.

I couldn't look at him as I answered, "My sister." I didn't say anything else because there was nothing else to say. He nodded, able to fill in the gaps.

"Gonna get Hershel." He stood up, walking towards the door.

"Daryl." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at me. "Thanks for finding me, for getting me out of there." He turned back to the door. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of responsibility he carried around.

"Saved yurself Red." I frowned. That wasn't how I remembered it. " Killed four before we ever knew ya were missin', and made sure we'd find that damn warehouse." Well, when he put it that way I did sound kind of awesome.

"Ya didn't need us," he added. Debatable, but I was too tired to argue. "M'gonna kill that sumbitch."

"You're gonna have to get in line Katniss."

He turned, smirking slightly before throwing me a wink that had the potential to melt my panties right out from under me. "We'll see."

Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong. Just as soon as I could sit up without assistance. Hershel puttered into the room, fussing about every scratch as he unloaded an Encyclopedia Britannica worth of instructions for my recovery.

Blah, blah, blah...broken ribs.

Words, words, words...concussion.

Noise, noise, noise...stab wound.

"Are you even listening?" he asked and I nodded.

Truth? I stopped listening right after he said hello. He looked at me expectantly and I cleared my throat to buy more time, Daryl grinning at me from his spot against the wall. He looked sinful leaning there with one leg propped up, arms crossed over his chest as he sported his usual sleeveless shirt with trademark vest and jeans so sexy my mouth watered. My heart rate reaching levels that could not be medically safe. Was it normal to be turned on by denim?

"I'm hurt," I offered lamely. Daryl snorted and Hershel scowled. "Bad."

Now Hershel was shaking his head. "I'm going to remove the IV, but you need to get lots of fluids. Daryl, I'm trusting you to take care of her."

"Hey!"

I didn't need John Rambo to fluff my pillow. Although, if he was gonna do it on those jeans, or none at all, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I could get a sponge bath out of this. Stupid hormones. I wonder if Hershel had anything in his magic medicine bag that could help with inappropriately sexual thoughts?

"Yeah," Daryl promised, ignoring my outrage.

Hershel was sneaky. He did that on purpose, knowing how seriously Daryl took a vow on any kind. I'd be lucky to pee without him hovering next to the toliet. Once Hershel was gone he looked at me expectantly.

"Ya gonna corporate?" I snorted then winced, damn that hurt.

"It's like you don't know me at all."

"Damn near died Red, should listen to the man." He tried to sound tough, but I heard the fear in his voice. I scared him and he didn't like the feeling one bit.

"But I didn't," I clarified. "Few broken ribs, a bump on the head and a teeny-tiny stab wound are nothing."

He scowled and I smiled, trying hard not to flinch at the cut on my lip. All things considered I was very lucky. Hershel's best guess was my legs weren't broken, just severely bruised and hurting like a son of a bitch, but without an X-ray who really knew. My bruises and cuts were already mending, and there wasn't much that could be done except wait where they were concerned. It was my bum ribs and knife wound that would slow me down for at least a few weeks according to Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman. A light knock at the door ended our staring contest, which I won by the way, as Carl poked his head into the room.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," I answered before Daryl could so much as open his mouth. "Did you bring them?"

Carl smiled wide, holding up a couple of comic books in his hand as he bounded into the room with energy only a child could manage, gently climbing on the bed beside me. I could practically hear Daryl rolling his eyes as Carl opened up the battered copy of _Superman: The Man of Tomorrow, Volume 1, Number 122._

I didn't approve of Carl's choice in superheroes, but anything was better than sitting around waiting for bones to mend. Well, that wasn't true, but Daryl refused to give me a strip tease and we agreed to table the sponge bath for later debate. He wasn't sold it would speed my recovery. I don't remember that being a key point in my argument, but whatever. I gave him five minutes before he pushed off the wall and left the room out of sheer boredom. He only made it three. I didn't even look up as he left, absorbed in the pages as Carl talked rapidly in defense of Superman.

"See, he has lasers shooting out of his eyes! That is so totally cool!" he exclaimed. "Wonder Woman doesn't have shi..." I gave him a pointedly look and he blushed, amended his word choice, "Anything on Superman."

Lori was right, I was a bad influence. I'd do better with Nugget. Maybe.

"What are you _supposed_ to be doing right now?" I asked, still reading the comic book so I could poke holes in his theories.

"Math."

I didn't get Lori's incessant need to continue with his formal education, but I'd sooner bathe in walker guts than tell her that. I wasn't a parent and the only thing I ever tried to take care of had died when I forgot to water it for a week straight. Given my track record I'd leave the decision making on this one to the professionals.

"Hmm," I answered noncommittally.

"It's stupid, right?" I kept my focus on the comic book. That was a trap. "I mean, what would I ever use it for now?"

I snorted, "You wouldn't have used it before this. They tell you that crap in school to keep you from chucking up the deuces and dropping out the first chance you get. Used to tell me I'd use it every day when I balanced my checkbook."

"Did you?"

"No." I never had any checks to bounce.

"See, I don't get it. I need to be doing things that matter," he sighed, clearly frustrated.

Closing the comic book I looked at him. "It matters Carl."

"But you said..."

I interrupted him, "Your mom is trying to make sure you remember the world before, trying to make sure you're better than all this. This will end, someday, and you're going to be one of the people to rebuild this world. That matters." He bit his lip as he considered my words. "It's also helpful if you can accurately count walkers."

He looked at me with a frown, rolling his eyes. "I could do that before."

"If you say so hero, but I clearly remember you yelling a dozen were headed straight for us and it was like what...three?"

"I was nervous," he muttered, embarrassed.

I bumped my hand against his. "I'll cover for you. It's what favorite Aunt's do, but you gotta find a time to get it done. If she corners me I don't know how long I can hold out."

Luke Cage had nothing on Lori when she went into interrogation mode. He nodded and I winked at him as he opened the comic book and began reading again. I leaned my head against the headboard, closing my eyes intending to catch a nap, but a crashing sound followed closely by a gunshot made us both tense. Carl shot out of bed and I slowly sat up while trying really hard not to cry.

"What was that?" he asked, moving towards the door.

"Carl stop!" I pulled the sheet away from me, swinging my horrendously bruised legs out of bed. I cringed as I remembered I still wasn't wearing pants, just Hanna's thankfully gigantic T-shirt. Good thing he had a few inches on me, the shirt brushing the top of my thighs or this would get real awkward real quick. "Don't open that door."

Carl turned around, eyes bulging as another gunshot sounded from somewhere in the house. Standing up gingerly my legs wobbled and throbbed, but I swallowed hard, steadying myself on the bed before taking steps towards the dresser by the door.

"Help me move it," I instructed and he nodded, the two of us pushing and pulling until the heavy antique dresser was blocking the only entrance into the room. I leaned against the wall, breathing hard as I clutched my ribs, sweat already dripping down my face. "Give me your gun and get my bag from the corner. There's a knife in the left boot, take it."

He didn't argue, handing over his firearm and snatching up my pack as he tucked the knife into his belt, tossing me the boots which I stepped into, rolling my eyes at my outfit or lack thereof. I knew I should have stood my ground with Daryl on the pants issue, now look at me, about to fight my way through a herd in nothing but a T-shirt, panties and combat boots. This was payback for the Magic Mike comments. Thank god I had underwear on. There was no coming back from that one.

I struggled to formulate something resembling a plan. If someone was popping off rounds inside the house things were bad on the other side of that door. We couldn't go out that way. I didn't know the layout and was too slow to trust my ability to keep Carl safe. We may not know what was going on outside of this room, but one thing was certain. We couldn't stay here. This place was old and rickety. A herd of any size could rip the house down in no time. Stumbling towards the night stand I grabbed the medication Hershel left, handing it to Carl who wordlessly shoved it in his pockets, his face full of dread.

"We're gonna be fine," I assured him. I'd die before I let anything get near him which just might happen today. "The window."

He ran to it as I followed at a much more subdued pace like a crawl. The gunfire was still going off sporadically, but I didn't hear any footsteps in the house. The group wouldn't leave us and if anyone could get to us they would be here by now so my best guess was they were all fleeing outside. Our escape plan was always to get out and rendezvous at the cars for a quick getaway. We needed to get out of this room and get to the cars, fast. Glancing out the window I didn't see any walkers so I opened it, feeling a few stiches pop on my shoulder wound. This was not resting. Hershel was gonna be pissed.

Something smacked hard enough against the door to rattle the dresser and I glanced behind me, swallowing hard. Looking down at Carl his face was white and I offered him a small smile before turning back to the window. Time was up, we needed to move.

"I'll go first," I said, already bending over and climbing out.

My ribs felt like they were snapping one at a time as I twisted and turned, reaching my long legs out the window until they came into contact with the ground. Thank Jesus they picked a one story house and I was tall enough to be Harlem Globetrotter. My legs buckled once they hit the ground, unable to support my weight due to my injuries. Using the side of the house I clawed my way back up, scanning the immediate area for any walkers as my arm shook holding Carl's weapon. When I saw nothing in the vicinity I motioned for him to follow me, and he climbed out of the window so easily it was just depressing. Was this kid part cat?

"Stay behind me."

We moved forward, Carl's gun up and ready in my hand. I was going to hug the shit out of Lori when I saw her. If she hadn't finally conceding, letting Carl carry a gun I'd be defending us with nothing but a knife I couldn't properly use right now and a bottle of Percocet.

We were lucky my room was on the opposite side of where the attacked. Unluckily our cars were parked there and I was starting to doubt I'd be able to stay upright long enough to get us there. My vision was popping in an out of focus, like a camera zooming in only to zoom right back out way too fast. I was 100% sure I was going to puke at any moment.

We moved along the edge of the house, careful to avoid any windows as we made our way forward. I hadn't heard any gunshots lately, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. At the corner of the house we stopped and I was just about to peer around when a window shattered behind me. I spun around just in time to see a walker swan dive through it in an effort to grab Carl. I yanked on his shirt, pulling him so hard he stumbled forward and fell, but I didn't turn to check on him. I fired a round directly into the walkers head only to see another decaying head poke out the window.

Backing up I turned to Carl and then towards the front of the house. I saw the group fighting their way to the cars. Glenn and Maggie were in the back of the truck firing their rifles to clear a path for everyone. Carl scrambled back to his feet as I shot the walker who lunged for me.

"Go!" I screamed at him.

He paused, indecision written on his face, but I pushed him towards the cars and he sprinted off. I heard Rick yell his name as he changed his path, blazing a trail towards his son. Something grabbed my loose hair, yanking hard and my feet were pulled out from under me. My back hit the ground with a thump. For a second I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, I could only feel and all I felt was agony. It felt like an eternity until my vision cleared. Once it did I wished for it hadn't.

A walker lunged at my face, their attack coming from over the top of me as I swung Carl's gun up and pulled the trigger. The shot was sloppy, clipping her in the throat and slowing her momentum some, but it wasn't enough to kill her. She dove at me and I put my injured arm out, barely able to hold her off so I could fire again, this time hitting her in the head as she fell to the side.

Before I could sigh in relief something grabbed my bare leg and I scrambled back as quick as my sluggish and uncooperative body would allow. The walker pulled with astonishing strength and I felt my body lurch forward, closer to their opened jaw. Before I could take aim an arrow flew in from somewhere to my right, impaling the walker that held me. Looking over I saw Daryl chewing up the distance between us as he sprinted, firing another arrow across the top of me at a walker I never saw coming.

With practiced precision he snatched up his two arrows, clipping them under his crossbow before strapping it onto his back. He bent down, slipping a hand under my legs and back as he picked me up. I was too glad to see him and in too much pain to argue. Plus, we both knew there was no way I would make it to the cars without help. I focused all my energy on ignoring the way his T-shirt rode up my body, exposing my legs and underwear. There would be time for mortification later, after we didn't die. At least I wasn't wearing granny panties. I was so hugging the shit out of Carol when I saw her. To his credit Daryl didn't even seem to notice as he pivoted around, running back towards the cars as the group picked off any walkers in our path.

"Don't tell Hershel," I bit out from between clenched teeth, trying to gut up and make it through the pain. He didn't respond, didn't even look at me as he ran to the back of the truck where Glenn and Maggie were waiting. Carefully, he laid me in the bed, his eyes narrowed to slits as he looked between me and his bike. "Go."

He hesitated for a second before nodding and jogging away. Moments later I heard the soothing rumble of his bike just as the truck pulled away. I scooted back gingerly, putting my back against the truck bed tucked firmly between Glenn and Maggie. She put her arms around me, pulling me closer as I closed my eyes, resting my head on her shoulder. That was close, too close.

I'm not sure how long we drove, but it was long enough that I had long since started drooling on Maggie's shirt by the time the truck slowed. Glenn cleared his throat uncomfortably, keeping his eyes diverted as he jumped out of the back of the truck and hightailed it out of there like it was on fire.

What in the hell was that about?

It wasn't until I looked down at myself that I remembered I was practically naked, wearing nothing but a ripped T-shirt that was hanging off my shoulder dangerously low, panties, and a pair of boots. I pulled at the shirt, attempting to cover my body, but it didn't do much.

"I'll go get you some clothes," Maggie offered, smiling at me kindly.

I only nodded, keeping my eyes down and hoping no one ventured over here until she got back. This was not a good look. No one approached the vehicle, but I could hear voices in the distance. Glancing around the cab I saw the group huddled a few feet away around Rick as he plotted our next move. Daryl was planted outside the circle, his body a literal wall between them and me with his legs a few feet apart, arms crossed over his chest, body rigid. The message was clear. If anyone wanted by you had to go through him. I didn't envy anyone that task. It would be easier to squeeze the wet out of water then get past that man when he held vigil.

I saw Maggie making her way back to me, an arm full of clothes and Carol in tow. Daryl nodded curtly at them, letting them pass without a word before his eyes snapped back up scanning for danger. I sighed, turning around and sliding forward until my legs hung off the end of the truck bed. Maggie deposited a pile full of clothes on the truck bed as Carol softly asked to check my bandages. I pulled the shredded shirt over my head, tossing it behind me, giving up on the semblance of modesty at this point.

"How do you feel?" she asked, unrolling a portion of the bandages before retightening them around my damaged midsection.

"Like shit," I answered honestly. Maggie smiled sadly, still feeling guilt that wasn't hers to bear. "I'll be fine as soon as I'm not naked on the side of the road. You know, normally I make someone buy me dinner before they get to see the goods."

Maggie flashed me a genuine smile as Carol laughed. I sifted through the clothes, grabbing a black bra and tank top, gingerly putting them on with more than a little assistance from Maggie and Carol. The top left little to the imagination it was so tight, but thankfully didn't rub against the bandages covering my knife wound. Probably Beth's if I was guessing. The young woman was quite a bit shorter than me and it showed in her clothes as I pulled at the bottom hem trying in vain to cover an expanse of exposed skin at my waist. It was no use, I was essentially wearing a crop top. Maybe it would pass for Apocalypse Chic? I was really hoping the jeans were someone else's. I drew the line at capris. I'd rather walk around in my not-granny panties and tank top than try to pull off that look.

Stepping into the jeans one leg at a time I winced as they traveled over my sore, bruised legs, but they fit great, if a little tight due to swelling, but they went all the way to my ankles. Bonus. I snagged my calf high, leather, boots and smiled as I tugged them on, feeling more like myself than I had in a while. You know what they say, fake it till you make it. I took care to tuck the bottom of the jeans into the boots before snapping the buckles closed.

I stood up slowly flanked by Carol and Maggie who looked ready spring into action should the occasion call for it. Now that I wasn't dressed like a Victoria Secret Angel doing a walk of shame after a long night I felt better even if my body was screaming at me to lie down for about a month. My shoulder wound was seeping blood like it'd sprung a leak, but despite that my spirits were high. I was 99% sure I looked like Lara Croft in this outfit which was _never_ a bad thing. All I needed were my weapons back, a few dozen Percocet, and I'd be ready to raid the nearest tomb.

"Do either of you have a hair tie?" I asked, my hair spilling down my back.

Maggie handed me one, but between my shoulder wound and ribs I couldn't raise my hands above my head much less gather up my thick hair. Carol stepped forward, taking over as I sat back down on the tailgate like a good girl. With practiced precision she piled my hair on top of my head in my normal messy bun, and expertly secured the hair ties. It tore at my heart as I realized why she as good at this, Sophia.

When she was finished she stepped back, tears in her red rimmed eyes. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, both of us shedding a tear. Her for the daughter she lost. Me for the little girl I never knew but risked my life to find.

The three of us rounded the truck, making our way towards the group at a snail's pace. I was embarrassed the short walk winded me so drastically. I could nap for about a decade. I stopped next to Daryl whose eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to Rick, but he shifted closer, his arm brushing mine in silent greeting. My fingers reached out, touching his as he discreetly wrapped a finger around mine.

"We'll stay here tonight. It's too dangerous to go any further," Rick explained. "We've put enough distance between us and the herd that we can set up in the woods, but leave most of our supplies in the cars in case we need to leave in a hurry."

Lori's voice calling my name made Daryl take a measured step away, and I tried not to whimper like at the loss of contact. What was this man doing to me? Lori stopped a few feet away as I rubbed her mostly nonexistent belly with a smile.

"Is Nugget OK?" I asked, but she didn't answer, wrapping her arms around me with a quiet sob. "Lori, are you alright?"

Was something wrong with Nugget? Was Carl hurt? My eyes scanned the group frantically until I found him, walking with T, a sleeping bag in his hands and a small smile on his face. He didn't look hurt.

"No, no, everyone's fine. We're all fine." I frowned. Then why the girl crying? Seeing my confusion she laughed. "You saved him. Thank you."

"Lori, don't be ridiculous, you don't have to thank me for that."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at me, and I looked away remembering how he said the exact thing to me when I thanked him for saving my life. A still sniffling Lori was finally pulled away by Rick who somehow managed to send me an apologetic and grateful look all at the same time. That man had skillz. I shook my head as I watched them walk toward the woods. It was the closest they'd been in weeks, his arms draped around her shoulders as he ushered her forward. Maybe there was hope for them after all. As soon as they were in camp he deposited her on a log and stepped away, putting about 10 feet between them, his face clouded with anger as he peered down at her.

Or not.

Sighing I started the long shuffle towards camp. I figured at the rate I was moving I'd be there in no time, three, four hour's tops. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, resting on my hip, his hand brushing my bare skin as he supported me.

"Can't keep your hands out of pants can you Legolas?" I teased.

"Stop." He blushed, swallowing hard, and pointedly not looking to me.

"I don't mind. You have my permission to put your hands down my pants whenever the mood strikes you." **Truth.**

I played it off as a joke, but my heartbeat picked up and my mouth went dry. I was playing with fire, my own jab coming back to bite me in the ass. Speaking of biting someone's ass, my eyes flicked to the man holding me upright and I barely resisted the urge to pant. Man, I needed a cold shower or a lobotomy. I had more hormones raging inside me right now than a teenage boy, and having Daryl this close was only making it worse or better. It was hard to tell.

Daryl didn't dignify my joke with a response. He was clearly more mature than me. Either that or I broke him. By the time we made it to camp I was too tired to joke. I may have been dressed like Lara Croft, but right now I was about as badass as Mr. Rogers. Slumping down on the ground I leaned against a tree, closing my eyes. I felt Daryl nudge my leg with his boot and looked up.

"Here."

He handed me a water bottle and two pain pills. Under normal circumstances I'd refuse if only to keep him from getting spoiled, but I felt like crap. I didn't have the energy to argue as I popped the pills and washed them down, closing my eyes. Without a word he set the bottle down beside me and walked into the woods, crossbow in his hands. He would hunt for a while then most likely take a guard shift or twelve during the night.

When I woke up it was pitch black and instead of leaning against a tree I was lying flat on the ground, a sleeping bag tucked snugly around me, and fresh bandages on my shoulder. The flames of the fire were dying down, everyone else asleep except T who sat a few feet away keeping watch. Looking around I saw Daryl lying beside me, close enough to provide extra warmth, but far enough away to maintain propriety.

As if sensing my eyes on him he woke up, blinking several times. "Ya good?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, closing his eyes again. Glancing at him I noticed he didn't have a sleeping bag or blanket, in fact, the one I was wrapped in like a burrito was his. I pulled at one side, yanking it out from under my body as I scooted closer to him, and gently covered him. His eyes snapped open, hand reaching for his crossbow. I snorted, only Daryl would perceive sharing a blanket as a threat to his safety.

"Calm down, I don't bite," I whispered, careful to not wake anyone. "Unless that turns you on."

"Stop."

His words held no venom. Clearly he was too tired to work up any real annoyance. What was more surprising was he didn't move away as I scooted closer, didn't flinch or pull back. If anything he closed the distance. Our bodies were so close I could feel his breath against my face, the heat from his body warming the sleeping bag like a furnace. The man's internal temperature ran somewhere between Hell and surface of the sun, but I wasn't complaining because I was always cold.

A contended sigh escaped my lips as my eyes grew heavy. Laying there next to Daryl a comfort unlike any I'd ever experienced washed over me. When I was with him I felt different, like the best version of myself, and I wasn't sure what to do with that information. He was my safe haven in a world that had literally gone to shit, but he was hard to read and even harder to get close to. I knew he cared about my safety, but that wasn't unique to just me. Daryl cared about everyone's safety.

He was a sheepdog. He lived to protect the flock from wolves. Maybe I was just one of the sheep he felt compelled to protect, and nothing more. My brain hurt thinking about it. It was an annoying habit I always had, thinking too much, feeling more than I should. It burned me in the past and I was afraid it would happen again.

I started to roll over, create a little distance even in our close proximity, but his large hand stopped me. He didn't move otherwise, didn't open his eyes. He simply took his hand in mine and pulled me to him, my head resting in the crook of his neck as he flung an arm across my body.

They say you see a person's true colors when you are no longer beneficial to their life. I think that night lying curled in his arms I saw Daryl's. For the first time since we tried to kill each other over a deer I was the weak link in the group, offering nothing but increased odds of death, but he pulled me closer when he could have pushed me away. He was a man of few words, he let his actions do the talking and right now he was screaming from a bullhorn. I couldn't help the stupid smile that spread across my face as I burrowed into him.

"Goodnight Daryl."

"G'night Alex."

* * *

 **I'm so glad you guys want this story to continue past the prison 'cause I do too!**

 **Posting a little early, hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!**


	13. Lightening Before the Thunder

**Lightening Before the Thunder**

"Hot water." Lori.

"Cheeseburgers." Glenn.

"Electricity." Maggie.

"My Xbox." Carl.

"Central heating and air." Carol.

"Music." Beth.

A series of _'mhmms'_ followed each admission, all of us remembering better times in an effort to block out reality. We were holed up in another abandoned house, sitting in the living room practically on top of each other, too scared to venture into the bedrooms after our last experience.

"What about you Alex?" Beth asked.

"Keeping Up with the Kardashians," I answered without hesitation. Six sets of eyes swiveled to me, varying degrees of amusement and disbelief on their faces. "What?"

The room quickly descended into laughter I was still confused about.

"Only you would miss something like that," Maggie commented.

Really? That couldn't possibly be true. That show was practically America's new pastime. Who needed baseball when you could watch rich people with questionable "talent" sit around do...nothing. As I looked around the room I realized I was on an island with this one. Jeez, these people were so weird.

"What's Keeping Up with the Kardashians?" Carl asked, looking towards me.

I sat up straighter, slowly stretching out my legs as I sat against a wall, getting ready to school the young lad on one of the Eighth Wonder of the World. I might even use drawings. I wonder if anyone could rustle up a pad of paper and pencil.

"It's..."

"Trash," Lori interrupted me.

I gasped, horrified as I pointed at her. "You better take that back right now Creator of Life."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as Glenn ignored the entire conversation, instead opting to keep describing the perfect cheeseburger. When he got to the part about bubbly, melting cheese I couldn't stop my mouth from watering, my stomach rumbling painfully. Food was scarce lately, and we were all feeling it. My eyes shifted to Lori and Carl, the most vulnerable of us all, and anger boiled in my veins at my failure to provide for the group. I gave both of them the lion's share of my food when I could get away with it which meant when Daryl wasn't looking, but it did little to keep the emaciated look off their slowly withering bodies.

Standing up I stretched gingerly, testing out my sore ribs which pinched slightly at the action, but weren't too painful. It had been two weeks, give or take, since we had our close call with the herd at the house of horrors. Since then we hadn't stayed anywhere more than a night or two, if we were lucky. Between Rick's paranoia and the herd of walkers that seemed to track us with Daryl like precision I was happy if we got an hour of rest before moved on.

The really frustrating part was even when a herd wasn't trying to bunk with us more often than not Rick ordered us to move for no reason other than the place _"didn't feel right"._ His mania to find somewhere permanent, something safer, overriding his common sense at times. His role and decisions were draining not only him, but the group as a whole. I'd follow Rick straight to Hell's front door and try to sell Girl Scout cookies to Lucifer himself if he asked, but I could see the cracks in his facade. As days turned into weeks with him no closer to finding the mirage of safety the strain of leadership and the sting of betrayal every time he glanced at Lori made it harder and harder to find any trace of the man I first met. Who knew I'd long for the days when he pointed his Colt Python at my head and threatened to shoot me? Picking up my rifle from against the wall I walked to the door, quietly slipping onto the porch where T and Rick were keeping watch.

"Anything?" I asked the pair.

"Nah," T answered, shrugging.

Watch was a necessary evil, but was about as boring as Michael Vick at a PETA meeting. It was a relief not having to constantly fight for your life, but sitting around _waiting_ to fight for your life wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I wasn't good at doing nothing, never had been. I needed to occupy my body and my mind or things got out of hand quickly. Most days Rick dreamed up tasks for me to accomplish just so I wouldn't be tempted to conjure up an adventure of my own design. The last time I did that Daryl's head turned a disturbing shade of purple that could not be healthy when I borrowed his crossbow, vest and motorcycle to reenact a pivotal scene from Braveheart. Needless to say Rick was getting lots of practice managing a toddler. He'd be able to handle Nugget no problem.

While T was adamant the coast was clear for the moment it didn't necessarily mean we were safe. Walkers had banded together during the winter, forming herds the size of which we hadn't previously encountered. I didn't know if it was instinctual, due to the weather, or we were just that unlucky, but whatever had them banding together like flocks of birds was making our already dangerous lives even more precarious. Maggie and Glenn tried to keep track of them, marking the map with head counts and directions whenever we came across them, but it was more depressing than helpful. The map looked like a crime scene sketch our options dwindling daily.

Nodding, I stepped off the porch, striding towards the woods, "Gonna see if I can find anything for dinner."

"Daryl's already out," Rick stated but made no move to stop me. Looking behind me he pointed west and I nodded, heading east. I didn't want to risk comprising any game he might be lucky enough to find in the barren forest. As the temperatures continued to drop food got harder and harder to come by as animals began to hibernate.

I stretched gingerly as I made my way into the woods. My body wasn't 100%, but I was leaps and bounds better than I had been so a small hunting trip should be no problem. Plus, I couldn't take another minute of being cooped up in the small house listening to Glenn describe cheese in pornographic detail. At least Hershel hadn't seen me leave, the old man asleep on the couch as I left. I loved him like Santa Claus, but he was like a nagging wife when it came to booboos, constantly reminded me to _"take it easy"_ and _"go slow"_. To be fair he'd probably lighten up if I stopped doing stupid shit, but where was the fun in that? Someone had to make sure he kept his skills sharp. He needed someone to practice on or he might get rusty and then where would we be?

Stalking through the woods I kept my eyes alert for any animals or walkers. There were a few animal tracks, but nothing fresh enough to follow much to my dismay. Sighing I kept moving, trying to ignore the chill in the air as white puffs of smoke floating in front of me with each exhale. I was so screwed when winter decided to make a full appearance which Daryl told me was any day now. I argued it was already winter, but the Georgia native assured me this was only the beginning. The thought made me want to cry. It was already cold enough some days I thought we might need hammers and chisels to extricate ourselves from our sleeping bags. Plus, I was cold during summer nights. I was likely to freeze solid like a prehistoric dinosaur if the temperatures kept dropping.

Pulling the beanie down to cover my ears I kept moving, wiggling my fingers in effort to warm up the stiff joints, my mind wondering. What I wouldn't give to be lying next to Daryl right now. The man was like my own personal human heater much to his chagrin. He complained constantly about my hands, calling them ice block when I tucked them under his burning body while we slept. Secretly I think he loved it. Or maybe he didn't, but who cared?

I heard a twig snap and froze, not even breathing as my senses went on high alert. My eyes scanned the trees as I brought my rifle up, bracing for an attack from the living or the dead. I heard a distinct three-tone whistle, and I relaxed marginally, parroting back the whistle. A few seconds later Daryl stepped into view, crossbow in his hands and a few squirrels strung over his shoulder.

"Nicely done Robin Hood," I told him, pointing at the squirrels.

He grunted. Shocking. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

"Just headed to the mall. Thinking about getting my nails done, you?" I had a black belt in sarcasm. He scowled at me and I smirked. Stupid questions received stupid answers.

"Hershel know."

"Yes." Absol-fucking-lutely not. I'd sooner give up ABCs and 123s than volunteer that information.

He sighed, not buying my lie for a second. "Come on."

We fell into step beside each other, silently continuing deeper into the woods in our quest for more food. Daryl found a few squirrels, but we had a lot of mouths to feed so while the haul was impressive it wouldn't go far. Something caught my eye and I bent down, examining the disturbed brush, rubbing the broken branches between my fingers as I looked around. Daryl squatted down beside me, glancing at the bush and the tracks on the ground. He turned to me and I made a hand gesture as he nodded.

 _ **Animal.**_

I didn't know how we did this silent communication thing. It was like we shared some kind of Vulcan mind meld. Maybe we were both secretly X-Men. We never discussed it which wasn't surprising considering Daryl rationed his words almost as much as we rationed our food. It was freaky how we just somehow _knew_ what the other was saying, thinking, going to do in different situations. Sometimes I swear he was inside my head, sitting on a couch with a magazine, listening to my every thought. He made another hand gesture, and now it was my turn to nod.

 _ **This way. It's close.**_

He was right. It was close judging by the tracks. We crept forward, careful with each footstep, avoiding any twig or pile of dry leaves that might tip the animal off to our approach. We'd only traveled a short distance when he gently laid a hand on my arm, a signal to stop and we both crouched down. Bringing up my rifle I looked around the desolate woods. About 100 yards away was a fox, its bright coat a stark contrast in the muted browns of the surrounding woods. Kneeling on the ground I took up a shooting stance preparing for the kill. Daryl's was an expert marksman, but at this distance the margin for error with his crossbow was too great to risk him taking the shot. Plus, I was a better shot. He disagreed, vehemently and often, but the proof was in the pudding.

Controlling my breathing I flicked the safety off, wrapping my finger around the trigger lightly as I lined up the shot, the animal directly in my crosshairs. It stilled, body going taunt as its survival instincts screamed that something was wrong, but before it could dart off I pulled the trigger, landing a direct hit as the animal fell over dead.

Lowering my rifle I looked at Daryl and winked. He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as we made our way towards the fox. With practiced hands he tied the fox up, slinging it over his shoulder along with the squirrels. I may be a better shot, but he was by far the better one at gutting animals. Mainly because I refused to do it if at all possible. That shit was nasty.

"Dinner will be the best we've had in a while." He hummed in agreement as we started the trek back to the house.

I chewed on my lip as I thought about our food situation. Tonight would be a good night, but most nights were a very different story. We needed a long terms solution for feeding this many people, and right now we simply didn't have it. Scavenging was hit or miss, and with the herds cutting us off we weren't even at liberty to pick our route anymore. Add winter to the equation and the already scarce game was likely to disappear completely. Watching everyone go to sleep hungry, especially Carl, was agonizing. The possibility of us dying from starvation was a bigger risk than walkers right now.

I was so wrapped up in my own head I didn't hear or smell the walker. He lunged at me from the right, grabbing my arm as he jumped at me from behind a tree. His momentum and my surprise sent us both crashing to the ground as I dropped my rifle, the rotting corpse on top of me. I pushed on his shoulders with both hands trying to keep distance between us so his razor sharp teeth couldn't sink into the soft skin at my neck, but my hands sunk into his decaying flesh like melted butter. Daryl called my name, my real one, and I knew it was bad. I didn't dare take my eyes off the walker as its jaws snapped dangerously close to my face.

I had an arsenal strapped to my waist and legs, but couldn't reach for any of it without moving my hands away, and right now that was the only thing keeping the walker from turning me into a chew toy. Fat lot of good weapons did if you couldn't use them. He pushed forward, using his legs as leverage against the ground and I groaned, straining to hold his weight, bringing my knees up attempting to brace them against his torso.

Suddenly an arrow pierced the walker's skull and he stilled instantly, the green tip jutting through its forehead as walker blood dripped onto me in gooey plops. I tried not to gag as the body was yanked off me, letting my arms drop to the ground, breathing hard as Daryl's face popped into view above me.

"Ya a'right Red?" His eyes were wide. His voice tight as he knelt down on one knee, pulling and tugging at my clothes, looking for a bite or scratch.

"I'm fine." Other than the slop coating my jacket and pants which I refused to acknowledge.

He exhaled harshly, dragging me to my feet and pulling me against him in a crushing hug, ignoring the walker blood. My heart was pounding as I wrapped my arms around his waist, laying my head against his chest as my nerves settled now that I was in his arms. I could have stayed there forever, but he pulled away all too soon, holding me at arm's length as he raised his eyebrows in question. Vulcan mind meld time.

 _ **Are you really OK?**_

I nodded again, swallowing hard.

 _ **Yes.**_

His lips thinned, his face scrunched with worry.

 _ **That was close.**_

I snorted.

 _ **No kidding.**_

Letting me go he turned, swiping my prized beanie from the ground, taking a step closer. With a gentleness no one but me knew he possessed he tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ears before placing the beanie on my head, making sure to pull it low enough to cover my ears. I looked up at him, loving how he made me feel small even though I could pass as an Amazon with most people. I would never admit that out loud. It was just too girly, too normal. I didn't know what to do with it so ignoring it seemed like as good a plan as any.

I licked my lips as I watched him watching me. He was standing so close I could feel his body heat wrapping around me like a blanket. His eyes flicked down to my lips and I swear my heart stopped. We'd grown closer since my abduction, but there were still lines he wasn't ready to cross so I waited, as patiently as I could, for him to make the first move. It went against every instinct I possessed, the waiting, but I knew with Daryl nothing could be rushed. I didn't know what we were doing or where this was heading, but I knew whatever it was he needed to get there in his own time. Me jumping him like a dog in heat would only send him running for the hills. I knew if I pushed he'd pull away and regress down a path I didn't fully understand.

So I waited. And waited.

Unfortunately it looked like I'd have to keep waiting as he cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping away from me and breaking the spell. I tried not to let my disappointment or frustration show, but if his shit-eating grin was anything to go off of I failed at both miserably.

Oh, so he wanted to play? No problem high-speed. I'd play it like Lionel Richie all night long.

Biting my lip I looked at him, my eyes narrowed as I took a slow step forward, making my intentions clear as I swayed my hips in what I hoped was a sexy manner. Judging by the way his eyes darkened it was working. I hated bringing out the big guns, and I wasn't exactly a sex pot, but he had started it and I intended to finish it. His entire demeanor changed as he watched me closely, his body tensing as if readying for a fight. It took willpower I didn't know I possessed to not crack up right there.

Daryl, redneck extraordinary, afraid of being molested by me in the woods.

I stopped directly in front of him, the tips of our shoes touching as my left hand brushed lightly against his right, just a ghost of a touch and innocent to boot, but it had the desired effect. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, a thin bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face despite the cool temperature. My eyes roamed all over his face, taking in his striking features and impossibly blue eyes. Bringing my right hand up I trailed my hand softly down the side of his face, and his eyes closed involuntarily, a sigh escaping as he leaned ever so gently into my touch.

My stomach fluttered and I realized my sexy seductress act was backfiring spectacularly, my own equilibrium off kilter as my heart pounded uncontrollably. A need building inside me like a bomb ready to explode. Clearly this was a mistake on my part, but he was so damn hot I couldn't stop, didn't even want to try. His eyes flicked open as he looked down at me and I froze, my hand resting on his chest, anticipation making my hand shake slightly. I could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath my palm, but it was his eyes that held me transfixed. They held so much emotion it threatened to swallow me.

Had anyone every looked at me like this?

People looked at me in all kinds of ways. Some with malice, others with laughter, and a few with camaraderie, but never had anyone leveled a look of such passion. It was happening, our silent communication, as he poured his heart out without ever uttering a word. His eyes expressing everything he could never say. In that moment instead of exhilaration or happiness I felt fear. My mind twisting and turning with every possible negative outcome.

Was I going to mess this up? Likely.

What would he do when he finally saw the real me? Hate me.

A million questions and a million answers swirled in my head as I gazed up at the man who had changed everything. I never wanted a Prince Charming. That was always my sister's fantasy. In my dreams I was the hero of my own story. A fighter whose successes and failures were bared alone, but I couldn't deny that having someone to share your story with was comforting. Maybe a co-star wouldn't be so bad. Funny how it took the end of the world to make me feel complete, whole, and Daryl played an integral part in that.

His hand reached for mine as he closed remaining distance between us, our bodies touching, but before he could interlace our hands (and hopefully a lot of other things) I whirled around, pulling a knife from my waist and throwing it overhand as hard as I could. It struck the walker sneaking up behind us in the eye sending him stumbling back into the trunk of a tree. The knife embedding in the bark I threw it with such force, keeping the walker propped up like an undead scarecrow. I cocked my head to the side, my hands on my hips and lips pursed in agitation.

"Aim's a little off on that one Red." The amusement in his voice was infuriating.

"That's where I was aiming." Liar, liar pants on fire.

I was aiming for his forehead, but my raging hormones caused it to veer slightly right. I wasn't sure if I needed sex, sleep or to beat the crap out of someone. Maybe a combination of all three.

"Sure." He laughed as he moved past me, yanking my knife out of the walker's eye and the tree. It dropped to the ground and he bent down, wiping off the gore before holding it out. "Yur a shit liar."

"You take that back right now Hana," I pointed at him. "I'm a great liar, fantastic even." And I was, with everyone but him.

He snorted and I scowled, stomping forward to retrieve my knife. It pissed me off that he was right. The man could read me like a book, and that had never happened to me before. Hell, it was a death sentence in my former life. I spent years ensuring my tells were either well-hidden or non-existent, but a few months with Legolas and it all went to shit. It was like he found a decoder ring in a Cracker Jack box just for me.

When he simply raised his eyebrows at me, giving me a look that clearly read _' I know exactly why you missed'_ I wanted to kick him in the shins. I mentally filled his opinion on the matter somewhere between fuck this and screw that.

"Whatever."

I stomped passed him with as much dignity as I could muster, but we both knew I never really had much to begin with. He chuckled, quickly falling into to step beside me without further comment. At least he knew enough to let me finish my hissy fit in silence as we walked back in silence. Him smirking and me seething. Sexual frustration was a real ass pain.

When the two of us emerged from the woods back at the house I saw T and Glenn's faces light up when they saw our bounty. T ran forward, picking me up and spinning me around a few times with a whoop of joy that made me smile bigger than I had in weeks. When he put me down he broke out into a dance, his signature shimmy combined with what I was pretty sure was the Stanky Legg. Not one to be outdone I laid my best Whip Nae Nae on him.

Glenn cracked up laughing, hands on his knees as he watched us engaged in a Dance Dance Revolution battle that was anyone's game. When I busted out the Cupid Shuffle he conceded, pulling me in for another quick hug, lifting me clear off the ground in his excitement. Something over my head caught his eyes and he cleared his throat awkwardly. dropping me so suddenly I stumbled. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Daryl looking at him like he was trying to reel him in with a tractor beam of death.

"Wow guys," Glenn said, admiring our kills. "This is awesome."

Daryl's eyes instantly fell to the ground as he shrugged, walking passed everyone without comment, finding a place away from the house to gut the animals. He didn't do well with compliments and did even worse with attention. I on the other hand, curtsied slightly, winking at him and trying to ignore the flare of pain in my ribs. They were totally killing my game.

A few hours later we were all huddled in the living room, but this time the mood was much improved as we swapped stories, happiness surrounding everyone like a glowing halo. It was amazing what falling asleep with a full stomach could do for a person's physical and emotional well-being. I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't drifted off to the sound of growling stomach's. When I was able to sleep at all.

I sat in my regular spot, tucked against a far wall, facing the door with a rifle in my lap, listening to T with tears in my eyes as he recounted a story where he "accidentally" hit on a girl that ended up being a guy. I thought I might need medical intervention when he told us it wasn't until they got back to his apartment that he finally realized she had three legs instead of two.

The room was filled with voracious laughter as he continued, his arms flailing around with animation only T could pull off, and I looked over at Daryl, who was sitting right beside me with a huge grin on his face. His eyes were sparkling with amusement as he shook his head in disbelief at T. I felt my chest begin to warm at the sight of him, like something from within was glowing. He looked like a completely different person, so carefree and open.

"Why would a guy be dressed like a girl?" Carl asked, genuinely confused. Another round of giggles rolled through me, forcing me to double over as Lori and Rick looked back-and-forth between each other, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Have fun with that guys.

"I think it's time for bed," Rick announced, evading the question like the plague as a series of _"boos"_ echoed around the room. I agreed, that explanation would have been worth staying up to hear. Rubbing my face with my hands I went to stand up, only to be stopped by Rick with a subtle hand gesture. "You guys take the night off. We'll handle watch tonight."

He didn't need to tell me twice. As for the surly redneck beside me he may need to repeat it a couple thousand times. Daryl frowned. The mere thought of not staying up all night to keep watch as confusing to him as rocket science. The man did not have a chill bone in his entire body. I prescribed to the ideology, 'when in doubt just chill out and everything will work itself out'. Daryl prescribed more to the ideology, 'when in doubt shoot it with an arrow then shoot it again just to make sure it was really dead'.

Everyone dispersed, Maggie and Glenn claiming their corner cuddled together like conjoined twins. Carol and Lori spread out on the couches in-between an already dozing Carl. Beth and Hershel moved to a pile of blankets and pillows shoved in the corner of the kitchen as they settled down for the night. T was already snoring, head leaned back, legs propped up on a coffee table as he tried to fold his massive frame into a tiny recliner. Rick picked up a rifle, eyes glancing around the room briefly, accounting for everyone before stepping outside and closing the door softly.

I lay down, my rifle beside me as I pounded and pushed on my pack in an effort to make it a better pillow, pulling my beanie down over my head. It was cold tonight, the drafty house not helping the situation one bit. I was shivering harder than a couple of jelly donuts at a Weight Watchers meeting. I curled my long body into a ball, trying to stave off the brutal conditions with little protection. Suddenly, a sleeping bag was tossed over me as Daryl lay down on his back beside me. I almost moaned in ecstasy as I tucked the sleeping bag under me, burrowing into it as I shoved my hands between my legs, trying anything to get warm. The sleeping bag helped considerably, but the draft in the old house was unforgiving and I was never good at adapting to the cold.

"Yur teeth are chattering so loud yur gonna attract every walker in 50 miles," Daryl whispered against my ear, his body shifting closer. I felt his massive arm wrap around my waist, carefully tugging me back until I was flush against his chest, his head burrowing into the nape of my neck. His warmth immediately encompassed me and I couldn't help the sigh that escaped.

"Wouldn't want to put the group in danger," I joked, but it came out a little too breathy to be believable.

Being this close to him was short-circuiting my brain in a very naughty way. I could feel the hard planes of his chest and abs, his hot breath on my neck each time he exhaled, and his hand splayed across my stomach. He was everywhere, all hard lines and unyielding muscle, and suddenly I wasn't cold. I was very, very hot. Good thing Hershel was sleeping only a few feet away because there was a very real chance I might have a stroke in the next few minutes. I was trying to play it cool, but since I couldn't spell the word in my current state it wasn't working.

"Mhmh." His deep voice sent a shiver through me and I wiggled back into him on instinct, my butt grinding against him. I felt his body tense. His arm jerking so hard against my waist it was like he was performing the Heimlich maneuver. "Red," he warned and I pressed my lips together to stop from smiling even though he couldn't see it.

"My bad." I actually hadn't done that on purpose, much. I mentally crossed cuddling with Daryl Dixon off my bucket list. I could now die a happy woman. He must have felt me shaking with quiet laughter because he asked what was so funny. "I can't believe badass, crossbow wielding, raw squirrel eating, don't take no shit, Daryl Dixon likes to cuddle."

"Ain't cuddlin'." He tried to sound tough and indifferent, but his voice held no real malice. He was enjoying this just as much, if not more, than I was. "Called sharin' body heat."

I leaned over slightly, looking at him over my shoulder, "Wanna share body head naked?"

His eyes popped open. "Stop." It was all fun and games until someone got a boner. Just sayin'.

I grinned, turning back over and grabbing his hand so I could wrap it even tighter around me. He didn't protest, molding his body to mine, leaving not an inch of space between us.

"Goodnight Rambo."

"G'night Red."

* * *

 **Not a _ton_ happening in this chapter, but I thought it was important to watch their relationship evolve instead of one chapter them trying to kill each other, and the next them carving their initials in a heart on a tree. Some call it "fluff", others call it "character development". How about we call it fluffy development? Whatever you call it I think it's important (and so much fun).**

 **What do you guys think?**

 **P.S...don't worry, there's more action packed suspense on the way hence the title of this chapter 😉**


	14. Sorry I'm Not Sorry

**Sorry I'm Not Sorry**

"You and Daryl seem to have gotten closer."

My eyes shifted to Rick, granola bar frozen halfway to my mouth, "If we're going to have the sex talk can you draw pictures? I'm a visual learner."

He kept his face carefully blank, trying to be nonchalant, but fell about ten miles short as I cocked an eyebrow at his lame interrogation attempt. His "casual" needed work. It was almost as bad as Daryl's which was utterly non-existent. The man was about as subtle as a train wreck. On a boat.

He rolled his eyes, sitting down beside me on the hood of a car. "Just an observation."

"Mhmm." Observation my ass. Good to know that even when the world literally stopped turning the gossip mill kept right on trucking. "You know, it's not too late to shut your mouth and mind your own business." I popped the last bite of granola bar in my mouth as he chuckled next me.

"It's a good thing. Seeing the two of you together, it makes me remember when Lori and I first started dating." His words made me choke on what was left of my granola bar, a coughing fit forcing me to lean forward in an effort to dislodge it as he pounded on my back. "You good?"

Sipping some water I looked at him, "Are you trying to kill me?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement that was so rare these days you'd sooner find Carol without her nose shoved in porn. It would have been nice if he wasn't using the dark side of the force.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, we're just friends."

It wasn't that I was in denial as much as I was selective about the reality I choose to accept. What I felt for Daryl was _anything_ but friendly, but I'd sooner replace my toilet paper with steel wool than admit that to Rick. Admitting it would mean facing it, and facing it would mean dealing with it. Neither of which I was ready for ...whatever _it_ was.

I wasn't a relationship guru, but compared to Daryl I could have passed as the Millionaire Matchmaker. Meaning I'd actually had one. If you could call dating someone for two straight weeks a relationship. And even that was just two weeks of sex with a few food runs sprinkled in to keep our energy up. I didn't consider that a relationship, it barely passed as a rendezvous in my book, but since all Daryl managed were a few one night stands I won this round in a landslide. Which was just sad when you thought about it. Over 60 years of life between us and Beth had more relationship experience than the two of us combined. Pathetic.

It wasn't _that_ surprising when you thought about it. Nothing about Daryl was easy or conventional, and I had never dated anyone without a foot already out the door so right now our "relationship" amounted to us dancing around each other like we were in junior high, minus the tongue action. Sigh. Junior high sounded good right about now. I could use a little tongue action.

"I just want him safe," I admitted, squinting against the sun that was out for the first time in days, making the day somewhat tolerable temperature wise. "And naked. I wouldn't put up a fight if he was naked from time to time."

Now it was Rick's turn to sputter and choke. Ha, payback's a biotch!

"Stop, I don't need that visual." He cringed and I shrugged.

"You started it."

He laughed, "Lesson learned. Forget I mentioned it." Fat chance of that happening. I had a naked Daryl movie playing on repeat in my head now. It was going to be a long day.

"Tell me why I'm benched again?" I asked.

"Everyone needs to be able to survive in case we ever get separated. You've been training them and they're getting better, but they need real life scenarios."

I drug my tongue across my teeth in irritation. I understood his reasoning, would have even supported it if it didn't leave such a sour taste in my mouth. I wasn't one for sitting on the sidelines, and that was exactly what I was doing while almost everyone else was out scavenging a nearby traffic snarl on one of the larger country roads we'd come across.

It was standard practice to have someone stay behind to guard the vehicles and supplies, not to mention Hershel and Lori, but I'd never given it much thought before today. Mainly because the poor, unfortunate soul had never been me. Now that it was I didn't like it one bit.

Lori and Hershel were lounging in one of the other cars, doors closed to ward off the chill. He was napping as she focused on growing limbs. Daryl took Carl and Carol north, further up the road, and I couldn't stop from turning around to see if I could catch any sight of them, but just like the last 1,000 times I checked, nothing. Maggie and Beth went in the opposite direction, and I could barely make out the neon blue tank top Beth wore at this distance. That left Glenn and T-Dog to rummage around in the vehicles nearby which judging by the curse words flying around wasn't going too well.

My job was simple, sit here and look for bad guys and dead people.

Boring.

As.

Fuck.

"We're on our way back." Daryl's voice rumbled through Rick's walkie talkie.

"Find anything?" he asked.

I wasn't holding out much hope. These cars looked like they'd been ransacked a couple of time, but we couldn't afford to let any potential resource go unchecked. The big traffic pile ups on the highway would yield better booty, but I would sooner ask Charles Manson to be my life coach than willing venture there. You've heard the saying like shooting fish in a barrel? Well, on the highway we were the fish and that was one big ass barrel.

"Nah, ain't nothin' here worth takin'," Daryl responded, confirming my suspicions.

Rick looked both disappointed and pissed. I gently squeezed his shoulder, offering the only thing I could, my support. His lips thinned, but he nodded, walking away to check on T-Dog and Glenn. Glancing back ahead I squinted, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I tried to make out something in the distance. I stood up slowly on the hood of the truck. Dread building in my gut like a pressure cooker as I took in what looked like a giant, black blob slowly coming down the road.

I was up and moving before the alarmed shrieks of Beth and Maggie were heard over the walkie talkie. Pivoting on my heel I ran up the hood of the truck, jumping into the bed and grabbing a duffel bag, ripping it open. It only took me seconds to find the two P99 AS .40 S&W semi-automatic pistols we found in Senoia and were saving for a rainy day. They were already loaded, thank god for Rick's paranoia, so I flicked off the safeties, chambering a round in each weapon.

Tossing my PPQ down into the bag I put one of the P99's in my leg holster and tucked the other in the waist band of my jeans, hopping over the side of the truck back onto the road. Racing forward I swung the passenger door open, running my hands along the cheap, plastic, faux wood lining the door. At one of the edges the adhesive was failing causing the edge to pull away from the metal of the frame and I was able to grab the corner, pulling the entire component off in one motion. Discarding the plastic I squatted down, grabbing a bundle of speaker wires, separating out just one and wrapping the thin, white wire around my hand, yanking down on it as the cable snapped off.

"There's a herd coming, we're surrounded!" Maggie's scream crackled through the walkie talkie sending a chill down my spine.

Rick was trying to keep her calm, but I could hear Beth's terrified cries in the background drowning out his voice. Yeah, no way that was gonna work. The herd had to be over a hundred strong. I'd be screaming too at this point. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Glenn dart forward, his face desperate as he listened to his girlfriend's terrified voice begging for help, but T-Dog tackled him to the ground, using his weight to pin the lighter man. I grimaced, my heart aching for him, but turned away.

Focus.

"Can you hide?" Rick sounded frantic, and I could see Lori attempting to console Hershel as I stood up, racing past them towards the other side of the highway.

"No, they see us, we're on top of the cars, but there's too many. We need..." Her voice cut out and the pressure building inside me burst like a balloon.

Running towards an abandoned Ducati motorcycle I spotted earlier I knelt beside it, grabbing a grouping of wires at the base of the steering column and pulling the cap off the ignition wire. Using the speaker wire from the truck I inserted it into the socket of the cap, twisting the wires together to hold them in place as the motorcycle console lights blinked on.

Swinging my legs over the bike I hastily stuffed the wires under the gas tank as I pressed the ignition switch, the engine roaring to life with a purr as I twisted the throttle all the way back, keeping the breaks locked. The back tire started spinning with a deafening squeal, a cloud of white smoke building behind me from the friction of the tire against the asphalt. I leaned to the left, bracing my foot on the ground as the bike slowly turned.

"Alex!" Rick yelled, his eyes wide. I glanced across the highway, teeth clenched in unease, but it wasn't Rick that had me second guessing what I was about to do. Just over his shoulder I saw Daryl racing down the road, his face an open book for the first time since I met him. I saw shock briefly flit across his face, but it was quickly replaced with horror as understanding dawned in his blue eyes.

"Tell them to get ready!" I hollered over the roar of the engines. Rick swallowed hard, his face ashen as he nodded mutely. I let go of the breaks, shooting forward at a pace slightly slower than bat out of hell. I could just make out the enraged shout of "Red!" over the rushing wind in my ears.

The traffic jam made maneuvering difficult at this speed, the cold air whipping my hair around in my ponytail as my eyes watered causing me to blink rapidly to clear my vision. I felt like Trinity in the Matrix, minus the dominatrix leather and kickass sunglasses which was a look I would totally rock.

I kept the throttle pegged, zipping back and forth between the cars, debris, and dead bodies littering the road. One wrong move would send me crashing to the ground in an accident I wasn't likely to walk away from, alive anyway, but the Ducati was easy to handle, moving with stealth like precision as I raced towards the pair.

The motorcycle was all performance, a hybrid derived from the classic Ducati racing bikes. It was sleek with an engine that could crank out 13,000 rpm's at top speeds. I argued with Rick earlier about adding it to our caravan, but he dismissed the notion when my only reason was, "it's sexy as hell". Wasn't that reason enough? Figured I'd get to ride it...to my death.

Looking up I saw Beth and Maggie ahead of me, so close yet still impossibly far away. They were marooned on a dinky, little, mid-sized car, Beth swinging away like Sammy Sosa with a bat as Maggie shot her pistol with wild abandon at the walkers grabbing for them.

I wanted to vomit as I took in the size of the herd behind them, slowly but surely lumbering down the road. I was wrong earlier. There were more than a hundred. This had to be the largest one we'd encountered to date. Thankfully the majority of them were still pushing down the road at a sluggish pace, only the freshest having the speed and agility to break away. I hastily counted twenty, surrounding the car, which wouldn't normally be an issue if we had the time and weapons to deal with them. Right now we had neither and the collective strength of the few surrounding them was threatening to overturn the tiny car. There simply wasn't time to take them out one-by-one before the trailing herd overran us.

Man, boring lookout duty was looking better and better.

Maggie heard the motorcycle, her head snapping up as her terrified eyes found mine. They needed help and they needed it now. My eyes darted around, trying to keep my stomach from rolling now that it was time to put my "plan" into action. It hadn't seemed like that bad of an idea a few minutes ago, but I was also on the verge of listening to my friends being eaten. I could practically hear Daryl growling in my head, telling me this shit was going to get me killed, and I hated that he was probably right this time. This plan made what I did to save his life when he was sick look like pure genius inspired by divine intervention.

If someone wrote a book about my life it would only have three chapters.

 _She came._

 _She saw._

 _She did something really fucking stupid._

The end.

More of a novella than a book.

Taking a deep inhale I scanned the large, grass median that separating the north and southbound roads. It was a large divide with a natural downward slope, creating a perfect launch platform at the other end. Well, go big or go home. Maybe that could be the title of my short story.

Leaning hard to the right the motorcycle swung out wide in a half circle towards the other end of the road. Once my tires made contact with the rumble strip at the edge I leaned in the opposite direction back towards the girls, my body practically parallel to the ground as I extended my knee to keep me balanced, coming dangerously close to scraping the road. I twisted the throttle hard as I slowly straighten out the bike which was now headed straight at them as I righted myself in the seat, leaning down low over the gas tank. I saw Beth's face blanch at the same time Maggie's mouth dropped open, a bewildered expression on her face, the group of walkers still clawing at their feet forgotten.

The path towards them was a mercifully clear and I clenched my thighs against the bike as the tires left the smooth surface of the road, traveling down the grassy slope so fast I'd probably jump this thing and land somewhere in Alabama. The uneven terrain jostled me in the seat as I hit the bottom of the decline, starting my ascent, making sure to keep the throttle pegged. My body was so tense it felt like I might break apart at the slightest touch as the bike thundered up the hill as I pressed down with my foot, shifting gears as I built more and more speed. I had just enough time to swallow down my nerves as my stomach bottomed out, the bike shooting out of the median like a missile launch.

The bike sailed through the air straight over Maggie and Beth. As I got closer I took my left hand off the handle bar, reaching down and pulling the pistol from my leg holster as I aimed at the surrounding walkers whose attention was now skyward, hands extended trying to reach me. Using my right hand I pulled the bike to the right, shifting in the seat slightly so I could lean down to the left, giving me an unobstructed view of the walkers below. When I was right over the top of the car I squeezed the trigger, the distinctive _rat-tat-tat_ of semi-automatic gunfire filling the air.

The bullets slammed into the walkers, throwing them backwards, their bodies jumping with each impact as they stumbled. They weren't all kill shots, but it was enough to drive them away from the car and create some much needed space. I kept firing as I flew over them, holstering the weapon at the last possible second.

As I neared the ground on the opposite side of the road I frantically grabbed the handle bars only seconds before the bike touched down with enough force to almost propel me off. The tires skidded, the body of the bike wobbling precariously as I struggled to right my balance, avoid obstacles, and not die.

It was a tall order.

I slammed on the brakes, turning hard to the left, the bike rotating 180 degrees in only seconds as I held on for all I was worth. Once the machine came to a stop I put my feet down on either side, keeping it upright but freeing my hands. Snagging the gun from my waist band and my holster I narrowed my eyes at the undead standing in front of me, squeezing the trigger as I fired without prejudice on the small herd surrounding my family. The semi-automatic gunfire decimated the walkers, ripping their bodies open, removing limbs and even cutting more than a few in half as they dropped to the ground.

When there was finally a large enough path I screamed at the girls to jump, and they complied without hesitation, racing down the windshield and hood of the car as they leapt onto the road. The walker's didn't notice. Their focus on me, attracted by both my aerobatic routine and the noise of the guns. A blur cutting up the opposite side of the road caught my attention and I let out a sigh of relief at the deep, familiar rumble of Daryl's motorcycle.

"Go!" Maggie screamed at Beth, pushing her towards Daryl while she sprinted for me. He skidded to a stop, motioning for Beth to hurry up, his eyes hard as they took in the scene.

I kept firing, taking care to avoid hitting anyone now that they were all in the open, but I was almost out of ammo with no way to reload. I lowered my weapons briefly, allowing Maggie the time to hop on behind me. Beth was almost to Daryl and I fired once more taking out a few stragglers trying to follow her. Once I was sure she was safe, wrapped around Daryl so tight he'd be lucky if she didn't snap a rib, I yelled at Maggie to hold on as I twisted the throttle, pushing down on the clutch as we pulled away. The road back was no less dangerous as I weaved in-between cars, and I felt Maggie's head pressed against my back, her shoulders shaking with tears I couldn't hear over the roar of both motorcycles.

Daryl glanced at me and I met his eyes for only a moment and swallowed hard, his face like granite as he pointed right, his bike already veering that direction. Pressing my lips together I followed him as we turned off the main highway, looping around a half-clover exit which spit us out on a small farm-to-market road that traveled underneath the one we'd just been on. I took the curve slower than was necessary and I told myself it was for Maggie's sake, but in reality the slower we got to wherever we were going the longer I could avoid the livid redneck in front of me. Straightening up the motorcycle I tucked in behind him as the adrenaline high I had been riding began to fade incredibly fast, leaving behind nothing but fatigue and a heavy dose of doubt.

We traveled for close to twenty minutes before he started to slow down, pulling off the road into a gas station parking lot in the middle of nowhere. It was an old mom-and-pop store that appeared to have been closed long before the end of the world if the caved in roof and decrypted gas pumps with no nozzles were any indication. We pulled around the back, obscuring our bikes from the road, and I noticed immediately the other cars already parked. Pulling to a stop I killed the engine, using my heel to push out the kickstand as I glanced over my shoulder. Maggie had yet to release me, her head still buried in-between my shoulder blades and I wondered if she even knew we were stopped.

"Maggie, we're here. You're alright, Beth's alright, you can let go now." I said the words slowly, cautiously, giving her time to calm down, but she didn't budge. Glancing towards Daryl I saw him physically removing Beth's arms from around his waist, gently pulling her off the bike and practically carrying her as he sobbed. The back door of the gas station burst open and Glenn came sprinting out.

"Maggie!" he called, skidding to a stop beside my bike, eyes searching her frantically for any injury. I finally felt her hold on me loosen as she flung herself at him.

Quietly I slipped off the bike, stepping away to give them privacy even though it didn't look like they cared. I could hear her crying, reassuring him she was unharmed even as he continued to pull at her clothes and examine every inch of exposed skin. Hershel made his way over to Beth, taking the distraught girl from Daryl and wrapping his arms around her. She buried her head in her father's chest, her shoulders shaking as she wept.

Behind them I saw everyone standing just outside the gas station, relief evident on their faces as they watched the tearful reunion. I bit my lip, standing there awkwardly shifting my weight from foot-to-foot, unsure where to go or what to do as the family held each other. Stepping to the side I kept my head bowed as I started making my way over to the gas station, but before I could take another step a body slammed into me, sending me stumbling back.

"Thank you," Maggie exclaimed, her arms so tight around my neck she was threatening to choke me. I could feel her tears as they fell on my shoulder. Wrapping my arms around her lightly I hugged her back.

"You're welcome?" I said it like a question because I didn't know how to respond.

She released me and Glenn stepped forward, ready to take her place, but I held up my hand stopping him. It wasn't that I was ungrateful, but thanking me for saving them was unnecessary. They were family. It was what we did. He nodded, eyes glistening with tears as he kept a firm hold on her like she might disappear if he let go. She was going to have a difficult time doing anything without him right next to her for a while, or ever.

Glenn guided her towards the door, his arms still around her waist, eyes never leaving her. Smiling to myself I followed behind them, but was once again forced to stop as Hershel stepped in front of me. I looked over his shoulders to see Beth in Carol's arms as she walked the shaky girl inside.

Lord, at this rate I'd be lucky to get inside before morning.

The old man stood in front of me silent, but the emotions churning within him were obvious on his expressive face. I bit my lip, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Truth was Hershel had always unsettled me. He was what I always imagined a father would be like, but had never experienced. He was the best humanity had to offer wrapped up into one package.

His faith was unwavering.

His moral compass always pointing true north.

If I hadn't seen him hold tight to his faith even when the world told us we were forsaken I wouldn't believe it possible. He was pure light and standing in his brightness only served to remind me of my many inadequacies. I'd never lived one day of my life the way Hershel lived every minute, like it was a gift, and that made me feel tremendously exposed. He made me want to hide in the shadows where I belonged, where I was comfortable.

"Hershel..."

He put his hand up stopping me, his lips quivering slightly. Oh shit, if he cried then I'd cry. It was like when someone puked causing a chain reaction no mere mortal was able to withstand.

"I know I wasn't fair to you in the beginning," he started.

My shoulder's tensed. This was not at all how I thought this would go, and the thought of it continuing made me want to run. I knew he wasn't my biggest fan back at the farm, and I wasn't stupid enough to think it was just because I was another person he never wanted on his land.

I was a realist, and thinking Hershel eyed me with disdain because I was a reminder of a life that had come crashing down around him was a fool's errand. There was always more to his contemplative looks and critical comments than that. He didn't like me because he saw me for who I really was, and he didn't want it anywhere near what was left of his family.

The two of us were polar opposites. He wasn't a violent man and violence was all I'd ever known. His faith taught him compassion and empathy while life had taught me those things didn't exist. In the end, he allowed me to stay because of Rick's persistence, and because his Christian principles couldn't reconcile sending me away.

I opened my mouth to dismiss his statement, to do anything to end this conversation, but his eyes hardened and I snapped my mouth closed.

"I couldn't see passed my own fears where you were concerned. I didn't think you were good for this group. You've been through hell, I see it in your eyes, and I know better than most men what that's like. I wanted you away from my family because I wasn't sure you'd found your way back, but I was wrong. I let my past effect my judgment and I'm sorry."

Twisting my hands in front of me I nodded jerkily, more uncomfortable in this moment than I had been in a long time.

"I mistook your actions for recklessness and I was scared it would end up getting someone killed." He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on mine so intently I couldn't have looked away if I tried. "You have been to Hell, but you found your way back. I understand it now. I understand you. You venture back willingly to spare the ones you care about from having to experience that kind of pain. It's not recklessness I first saw in you, its love. You're the soul of this group Alex, never forget that."

My eyes widened, unsure of what to say or do, painfully unprepared for this.

"You saved my daughters today, thank you." His voice was thick, shaky as he squeezed my hand briefly before going inside.

I didn't respond because I couldn't. What did you say to something like that? Thank you? No problem?

I watched him and swallowed hard, promising myself I would do everything in my power to be worthy of his words. With Hershel gone there were only three of us still outside and our leader looked briefly at me before his eyes slide to the man beside him. Daryl kept his head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, his fists clinched at his sides, body stiff as a board, his hair fluttered in the evening breeze.

I could only guess Rick was here to play Kevin Costner to my Whitney Houston, but I didn't need a bodyguard. He was like the big brother I never had (or wanted), but his instinct to protect me was cute. It was even cuter that he thought I needed it.

Groaning internally I made my way over to them. This conversation was going to be the equivalent of a sock sliding off inside your shoe, uncomfortable and impossible to fix. Rick waited patiently for me to walk the plank towards them and then waited an additional 30 seconds for someone to say anything before he sighed.

"You alright?" I nodded, biting my lip as I eyed the redneck beside me with a frown. Was that steam coming out of his ears? "Care to explain how you know how to hotwire a motorcycle?"

Wait, what? Was this guy serious? Out of everything that happened today _that_ was what he chose to focus on?

Once a cop, always a cop I guess, but there was no way was I telling him I used to steal cars, and anything else not nailed down. I would sooner admit to farting in the room while everyone slept and blaming it on Lori.

"Google?"

Rick chuckled, patting my shoulder with one eyebrow cocked, the message clear, _'good luck'_. I grimaced, nodding at him as he walked inside. With Rick gone it was just me and The Incredible Hulk standing outside as he continued to seethe and I continued to stand there, waiting for him to do anything other than mumble incoherently.

He seemed to be fighting some kind of internal battle, a silent thunder rolling through him that physically made his body shutter. I wouldn't be surprised if the first words out of his mouth were _"Hulk smash"_ at this point. Knowing the slightest twitch or wrong word could send him spiraling out of control I did my best to patiently wait.

Patience wasn't really my strong suit, but I'd give it my level best if it meant avoiding an arrow in my ass. Realistically I knew he'd never hurt me, not ever, despite his words to the contrary, but his anger right now was teetering on hysterical. I didn't want to do anything that might send him tumbling over the edge. Anger might not solve anything, but it could destroy everything.

So I counted to 10.

Then I counted to 20.

When I was done with that and he was still speaking in tongues I tried to remember if we had any ABCs and 123s left. I thought I remembered one can stuffed at the bottom of Carol's pack, my mouth watering just thinking about it. Unconsciously I started tapping my foot on the ground, a silent timer ticking in my head as I imagined Carl sniffing out my prize. The kid was part bloodhound when it came to finding canned goods. If he took my ABCs and 123s we were gonna tussle.

"Ya got a death wish?" Daryl's furious voice interrupted my thoughts and caught me off guard.

"Huh?"

He stalked forward and I stepped back, my body tensing as I raised both hands into a defensive posture, the action not going unnoticed. I didn't think it was possible before, but he looked even more infuriated now.

"I'd never hurt ya," he hissed.

I knew that, I did, it was simply my body's fight or flight instinct kicking in, identifying a threat and responding to it regardless of the truth I knew deep in my soul...that this man would never harm me.

"I know." He frowned, eyebrows raised in question as I stared at him. Oh yeah, his stupid question. "No, I don't have a death wish."

"Then what the hell was that?!" That was a trick question if I'd ever heard one. There was absolutely no good way to answer that so I stayed silent. Besides I didn't think he would like my answer much anyway.

"Ya could've been killed, do ya get that?!"

That was _also_ rhetorical, but he was starting to piss me off. Where the hell did he get off screaming at me like a wayward child? My temper flared, officially done idly standing by being the meek one in the conversation. I hadn't done anything wrong and I'd be dammed if I let him berate me while he sorted through his issues.

"Yes Katniss, I'm well aware of the danger you hypocrite! But in case you missed it Maggie and Beth's lives were on the line." I spat the words at him and his nostrils flared in agitation as I straightened my spine and pinned him with a cold look. "And let's not forget you were right behind me Evel Knievel."

The rational part of me understood his anger was coming from a good place. That he was worried about me because he cared, but screaming outside _Bob's Stop N Shop_ wasn't a healthy way to express those feelings. Plus, if he was expecting an apology he was going to be waiting until Hell froze over. There was a better chance of Anne Frank needing a drum set than me _ever_ regretting what I did today.

"Are you forgetting that last week you practically pole vaulted into a herd of walkers to save Glenn or that a few days before that you were the last person out of the house, _like always_ , even though it was practically overrun?" My voice was getting higher and higher the more I ranted, my anger boiling over unchecked. "And let's not forget my personal favorite...when you dove, head first, through a window to save Carl!"

I was fuming at this point, so angry I was seeing red as I pushed passed him, heading for the door. No one was a harsher critic of my actions than myself, but I did what I had to today so he could take his judgement and shove it up his condescending ass.

"Ain't the same thing!"

I rounded on him, my finger in his face. "Isn't. Isn't the same thing. Ain't- Is- Not- A- Word- you hick!" Now I was just being mean, but I could throw stones at glass houses like Randy Johnson when the occasion called for it. "And are you high? Did you get into Merle's stash? What I did and what you do is exactly the same thing!"

"Fuck you Winters!"

"Fuck you Dixon!"

"Ya got a hero complex and it's gonna get ya killed!"

I scoffed, laughing without humor at his ridiculous statement. "I'm sorry, are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario? I'd like to be the pot cause I was the kettle last time."

"Don't take nothin' serious!"

He turned away from me, livid, dragging his hands through his hair so hard I was surprised he didn't rip out a chunk. It was a miracle no one had come outside to make sure we weren't killing each other, but my guess was Rick had barred anyone from coming near the door until the screaming stopped. Safer that way. The irony of the situation was the only people who could handle us when we were like this was each other.

"I do take this seriously," I retorted, offended he thought different. It wasn't like I planned to be awesome today, but sometimes shit just happens. "It was Maggie and Beth! What was I supposed to do? Sit there and watch them die?"

He turned on his heel, stalking back towards me a thunderous look in his eye and I backed up trying to keep some distance between us so I didn't do something I'd regret. The sad truth was Daryl would never hit me, but if he kept on like this there was a very real possibility I'd knock him the fuck out. As my body hit the wall of the gas station, effectively ending my retreat, he just kept coming and I curled my hands into fists, willing myself to keep it together.

"What 'bout yur life?"

"What about it?" I spat at him sarcastically. "I'm fine. We're all fine. What is your fucking problem?" He would have done the exact same thing in my shoes so why were we having this conversation?

He snarled, eyes darkening in fury as his control finally snapped. "Goddamnit Red, I don't know why I even bother. Yur a waste of fuckin' time! I'm done. Ya ain't my problem no more. Go ahead and get yurself killed. I don't give a shit!"

He spoke the words with such vehemence and finality I reeled back, feeling myself pale slightly as his declaration hit me like a slap to the face. If he was aiming for a killing blow he delivered one and then some. The sting of his words made my stomach clench as all the fear and doubt I lived with my entire life came roaring to the surface with the force of a tsunami.

My eyes watered and I hated myself for not being able to push down my sentiment. There was absolutely no way I was crying in front of him, not after what he just said. I just needed to get away from here, put some distance between us so I could lock down this tidal wave of emotions that was threatening to undo me.

I pushed off the wall, brushing past him without a second look, our shoulders bumping as I headed down the deserted road. I only managed to put a few steps between us before he snagged my wrist, pulling me back against the wall, his body pinning me in place as he braced his arms on either side of my face. I sucked in a ragged breath as our eyes met, his anger morphing into something else as he watched me.

"I didn't...I wasn't..." he stuttered, and the words, though spoken softly and incomplete, carried the weight of regret. I couldn't remember him every apologizing and theorized it was because he'd never done it before. It showed. He sucked at it.

"M'sorry."

It sounded like he was chewing on nails as he ground out the words, but everyone had to start somewhere. The look on his face told me he meant it, but it didn't erase his earlier words. Those puppies were still banging around in my head like a pinball machine. I pushed on his chest in an effort to move him, but he didn't budge. I ground my teeth together in frustration as I fought down the instinct to physically move his hulking form from my path. His face was too pretty to mess up.

"Alex," his voice was whisper and I couldn't help but look at him. "I didn't mean none of it. Ya just..." he trailed off as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against mine as he moved me backwards, my back pressing harder against the wall behind me. I watched him carefully. Not speaking more because his proximity had caused me to lose cognitive function than anger at this point.

He leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. "Ya drive me crazy."

Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual.

At some point my hands had unknowingly curled into his shirt as I pulled him closer. His breathing hitched, hands dropping down to my hips as a burn inside of me sparked to life that set my blood afire. Before I knew what was happening his mouth smashed against mine, his lips hungry. The kiss was hard and demanding, a lot like the man himself as his tongue traced along my lower lip causing me to moan. He growled in his chest, my response spurring him on as his tongue swept into my mouth. My legs wrapped around his waist as he cupped my ass, grinding against me as he held me up, the kiss intensifying as we both fought for control.

I had my fair share of kisses, but this, this was something else entirely. I was ready to lose myself to the undeniable attraction I felt for him. It was becoming painfully obvious my mind would forever be divided into before and after...before Daryl and after Daryl. It was like having a veil lifted and seeing everything through new eyes.

I tilted my head, giving him better access and he didn't hesitate, devouring me as my nails drug across his shoulders. This wasn't the Daryl I knew. The Daryl I knew was cautious, reserved, and kept himself carefully in check. The man currently placing his mark on my soul was confident, calculating, and ravenous.

How many times had I fantasized about this moment?

A hundred?

A thousand?

But I wasn't sure it would ever actually happen, and my daydreams had nothing on the real thing. When I imagined this moment it was always slow with a hesitancy born from unfamiliarity with intimacy, and excruciatingly brief. Instead, Daryl's body was solid under my touch, his mouth firm on mine without a trace of caution, in complete control as I found myself surrendering to his ministrations.

It was all I could to hang on and enjoy the ride and what a ride.

"Oh my god!"

The voice was like a bucket of cold water bringing us both crashing back to reality. Daryl jerked away from me so fast I fell towards the ground, barely catching myself before I landed on my ass. Bracing my hand against the wall to support my wobbly legs I felt my face heating up like it was on fire as I panted harder than when I ran five miles through the woods.

Both our heads snapped to the side just in time to see Carol's mouth opening and closing as she gaped at us. It took her a full minute to recover from shock, but when she did she pivoted on her heel, swinging the door open so hard it ricocheted against the wall with a _thwack_ as she bolted back inside.

Carol's life story would also be only three chapters.

 _She came._

 _She saw._

 _She made it incredibly awkward._

While Carol barging in on our "moment" was less than ideal it wasn't the end of the world. There was no such thing as privacy in our group so trying to keep anything a secret was a waste of time. I was ready and willing to mount Daryl and continue right where we left off, but as I looked at him I knew that wasn't going to happen.

His demeanor was completely changed, and I didn't need a degree in psychology to know he was shutting down. His shoulders were hunched over, hands shoved deep in his front pockets as he kept his face carefully blank, eyes diverted. I felt myself start to panic, afraid what this might mean. My need to fix it overpowering.

"Daryl..." I started, but he turned abruptly, walking away without a word.

I fell back against the wall, covering my face with my hands, an all too familiar uncertainty creeping inside my disjointed mind. Did he regret it? Did he think it was a mistake? I wasn't stupid enough to think physical intimacy would be easy with someone like Daryl, but the feeling of outright rejection coming from him was debilitating.

Dragging my hands down my face I tried to get my bearings, to get a handle on the feelings that were bursting inside me. He just needed time to process everything, that had to be it, right? I wasn't the only one who felt the spark between us, the electricity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. That wasn't normal and it definitely couldn't be one-sided, but as the seconds ticked away I felt myself questioning everything, the memory already hard to recall.

Who had initiated the kiss?

Was I dreaming when I felt him pull me closer?

Hadn't I heard him mutter my name like a prayer?

I bit my lip as a bitter taste burned in the back of my throat. I mentally chastised myself for letting this happen. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't let anyone have this kind of power over me and yet here I was repeating my mother's mistakes in real time. It was dangerous to let someone consume you, to surrender the most sacred parts of yourself because if it went bad, as it almost always did, you didn't recover. I had seen that first hand watching my father systematically dismantle everything that made my mother who she was. I learned a long time ago to never expose yourself to someone else's mercy. I spent a lifetime building walls around my heart, fortifying my defenses with years of brutal training, but one kiss from Daryl had torn them down like a paper dollhouse.

Cursing my stupidity I made my way towards the door with a heavy heart, having no other option than to trust that he would come around even if it meant he wanted nothing more than friendship. It would be hard (impossible), but I would respect his decision if it came to that. I wasn't sure if my heart could handle only friendship from the man, but my head would figure out a way to make it work. There was simply no other option. Pausing outside the door I glanced over my shoulder looking for any sign of him in the darkness as I felt tears well in my eyes, but he was gone.

What did I do if we couldn't fix this?

With a sigh I swung the door open making my way inside with slow steps. I already knew the answer to my unspoken question and it made my heart ache.

I would find a way to survive without him.

* * *

 **I'm dying to know what you guys think about their first kiss? Love it? Hate it? Love it ;)**

 **Let me know...**


	15. Take It All Back

**Take It All Back**

I underestimated the fallout the night at the gas station would have on my relationship with Daryl. I hadn't expected flowers and candy, I wasn't delusion (most days), but at the same time the precision with which he cut me out of his life was swift and exacting.

At first I hoped he simply needed distance to process what happened between us so I gave it to him. I accepted that when I walked into a room he would inevitably find a reason to leave. I learned to live with the fact we no longer occupied the same sleeping space at night. I let his harsh, insulting words bounce off me without comment on the rare occasions he took the time to address me directly.

It wasn't easy, but I endured it because I incorrectly assumed it was only temporary. That eventually whatever was plaguing him about that night would work itself out and things would go back to normal, that we would go back to normal. Normal for us anyway. What I learned in the past four days was that assumptions were dangerous things. My truth and his were dining at different dinner tables. Hell, they were at entirely different restaurants.

What added insult to very serious injury was his withdrawal was confined to just me. He still strategized with Rick, took lighthearted jabs at Glenn, and offered a comforting presence for Carol when she needed it. Physically there was never much distance between us, sometimes only feet when the group was forced to hole up in rooms only slightly larger than the closet the two of us were once stuffed in, but there was a chasm between us all the same. A deep, gaping hole I was unable to comprehend much less bridge.

On the nights when he did sleep he made an art form out of finding the corner furthest away from me and curling into it in an effort to put more distance between us. I hadn't realized how much I missed him being next to me until he was gone. Didn't know how I longed to hear his voice until he was silent. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I swore could still feel him, lying beside me, holding me close. The fact my mind was imagining his presence like a phantom limb was as humiliating as it was infuriating.

Somehow in the span of a few seconds everything we built unraveled and reduced us to virtual strangers, and I had no idea how to fix it. What's worse I wasn't sure I wanted to. I was by no means an expert in relationships, but I knew regret when I saw it. He may not have spoken any civil words to me in days, but his actions screamed exactly how he felt.

Disgust.

Mistake.

It hurt more than it should have given it was only one kiss, but I was fresh out of time machines so there was no going back. So instead, I found a way to move forward. I dealt with the rejection the only way I knew how. The further he pushed me the further I retreated. I was good at pulling away, both physically and emotionally. Rejection teaches you how to reject, and I majored in that particular subject in my youth.

I wasn't my mother. I didn't believe the lies women told themselves in an effort to justify men who treated them poorly. If life had taught me anything it was if someone treated you like they didn't care it was because they didn't. There were no exceptions. No fairy tale endings. Life may be cold and brutal but it held nothing on love. Love was a cancer that metastasized until it infected all your vital organs, killing you slowly from the inside. I had no intentions of dying that particular death.

Sometimes the only way to heal a wound was to stop touching it.

Unfortunately it was impossible to pull away from Daryl without also pulling away from the group as a whole. He was too intertwined in the very fabric of our dynamic to single out. There was simply no way to cut around him without also cutting through the ties that held the others. It killed me to see the hurt look on their faces as I rebuffed their efforts to help, but I'd do anything to ease the ache in my chest and the only thing that seemed to help was distance.

Nights were the worst, left alone to analyze every detail of that night in excruciating detail. I was been certain he felt the same, felt the heat between us when he touched me. How could you kiss someone like that, pour your soul into them, and not _feel_ something? But as time passed the details seemed to blur and I was left doubting if any of it was real. The events got twisted in my jumbled mind until I couldn't tell fact from fiction.

In order to keep my sanity and studiously avoid any thoughts of _that_ _night_ I kept busy. I took every watch available, careful to avoid Daryl at all costs. If he was on watch I made sure to take an opposite rotation or if that was impossible place myself as far away from him as possible. I ate my meals in solitude, when I ate at all. I never slept, even when I wasn't on watch, instead opting to find a secluded spot somewhere where I could let the emotions wash over me in relative privacy.

It was doing wonders to help me forget mainly because my brain was running on autopilot due to sleep deprivation, but it was wreaking havoc on my body. I hadn't slept more than a few hours at a time for almost four days, but the side effects were a small price to pay for my sanity. I felt a piece of myself die every time I saw him smile at Carl, talk to Beth, or share a meal with Rick and Hershel so for everyone's sake I stayed away. I wasn't in a good place, mentally or emotionally, and me losing it wouldn't be good for anyone.

So here I was, outside, sitting against the wall of a small restaurant we were currently calling home for the night. It wasn't my turn for watch, but I relieved T-Dog nonetheless much to his vocal disapproval, all of which I absorbed in numb silence. I had no intention of waking Glenn when it was his turn in a few hours. Rick was wasting his time coming up with watch lists every day. I was going to set some kind of record worthy of the Guinness Book of World Records if I kept this up.

Sitting there I scanned the road, my mind cycling back to the prospect of leaving. It had been a long time since I felt the uneasiness inside me, the need to get as far away from the group as I could, but now that it was back I couldn't seem to shake it. I survived on my own before, knew what to expect out there, but I'd been with this group for so long I questioned whether I could still make it out there by myself. They made me soft, vulnerable, and I hated it.

I felt more broken now than when I was kidnapped and beaten within an inch of my life, and I berated myself for allowing these people to get close to me. I didn't know how to fix it, how to make the hurt go away without falling back into my old routine, running. I wasn't sure distance would erase the hurt, but it was worth a shot. Anything was better than this. They say time heals all wounds, but I was still waiting, and something told me I would be for some time, especially if I stayed. Running was the coward's way out, I knew that, but it was easy and I needed something easy right now. Facing my problems and working through them seemed insurmountable. Ignoring the issues may not make them go away, but it sure made them easier to deal with.

The sound of the door opening made me glance to my left, observing Glenn as he made his way over. I sighed, turning back towards the road as I adjusted the rifle on my lap, keeping my lips sealed. He sat down beside me even though everything in my body language screamed go away. He didn't speak at first, just sat next to me in silence and that annoyed me even more. It was a testament to how conflicted I truly was, I didn't want to talk to him, but I didn't want him to sit in silence either.

"I'll take watch," he finally said and I ground my teeth together.

"I'm good."

He sighed, but didn't move. "You haven't slept in days." I didn't have anything to say to that so I just kept quiet, looking everywhere but at him. "And you've hardly eaten."

I understood he was trying to help, that this was coming from a good place, but I couldn't find it in me to care. Glenn worried about everyone. He was one of the most caring individuals I'd ever met, but right now that caring only served to irritate me. So I kept ignoring him.

"You're doing it again." When I didn't respond he continued, "You're pulling away. You have the same look in your eye you had in the beginning. When you used to run away every chance you got." Dragging my teeth over my lips I tightened the grip on my rifle. "What happened?" He didn't need to specify, we both knew what he meant.

"Nothing." Lie.

"Alex, I'm not stupid, _something_ happened. Ever since that night things have changed. You've changed. Daryl's changed."

That wasn't entirely true. Daryl had only changed when it came to me with everyone else he was exactly the same. Which sucked donkey balls.

I was surprised when everyone didn't know the intimate details of exactly what happened outside _Bob's Stop N Shop_ , but Carol had shocked me with her discretion. Either she hadn't told a soul what she saw or they were all incredible actors.

It was obvious Glenn wasn't leaving without something so I crafted a story, made the details fit the picture I wanted him to see. It wasn't to protect Daryl. I could give two fucks what he wanted kept private. It was purely self-serving. Telling anyone what happened and then having them witness the aftermath would be too much humiliation to bear.

"Daryl disagreed with what I did." Not a complete lie.

"Saving Maggie and Beth?"

I sighed, "Not with me saving them per say, how I did it."

"He was just worried about..."

I cut him off, "No, he wasn't. He made that clear. He doesn't agree with my methods. Thinks I'm a danger to the group. That's all it is."

"I don't believe that," he said.

"Believe whatever you want." The bite in my voice made him flinch and I instantly regretted it. As much as I wanted to cut these people off, to stifle my churning feelings, the thought of hurting them made me sick.

"Are you going to leave?" He phrased it like a question, but his tone made it sound like a statement. Glenn was observant, attuned to everyone in the group. I wasn't surprised he sniffed out my intent. It was what made him such a good scavenger, but like all his other questions I refused to answer. "That would be a mistake Alex. You can't make it without people anymore, and we are your people. We all need each other. We need you." He paused, letting his words sink in, but I let them bounce off me just like Daryl's insults. "Whatever happened will blow over. Please...whatever you're thinking just...remember that you're family."

He didn't say anything else, but he didn't leave so I kept ignoring him, choking on the emotions swirling inside me. I had serious issues, and one of them was how bad I needed this group. Leaving would not be easy. I wasn't sure it was even possible. Maybe Glenn was right and this would blow over, whatever _that_ meant. Daryl was only one person and I could avoid him just as well if not better than he could avoid me, but I wasn't able to ignore the way my heart sped up when he walked by or how my hands twitched with a need to touch him when he was close.

It was late, well past midnight and my eyes stung every time I blinked, my weariness growing with each passing minute. I shifted constantly in an effort to stay awake, and all the while Glenn sat there, silent as the night. At some point hours later I blinked, my head resting against the wall and they didn't open again despite my best efforts.

I told myself I'd only rest for a few minutes, that was all I needed, but my body had other ideas because when I opened them again the sun was peeking over the tree line. I jolted, looking around wildly only to see Glenn still sitting right next to me, a sad smile on his face, the cold morning air making every exhale from his mouth come out in a puff of white of smoke. I was freezing, my nose running and hands stiff as I flexed them in an effort to get my blood pumping. I pulled my beanie lower, covering my ears as I tucked my hands under my armpits trying to warm them up. The front door opened, Rick stepping out and glancing towards us. He pulled the collar of his jacket higher in an effort to combat the cold before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You two stay out here all night?"

"Yeah," Glenn answered.

I stayed silent, averting my eyes as I stood up slowly, my joints protesting, loudly. Rick's eyes swept passed Glenn and settled on me, his lips pursed in aggravation, but he said nothing. He tried reaching out to me several times in the last few days with the same result, nothing.

"We're going on a run. We leave in ten." He turned swiftly, going back inside as Glenn glanced back at me. I knew what he was going to suggest even before he did and to avoid it I brushed passed him, snagging my pack off the ground and throwing it on as I made my way towards the cars.

I watched Glenn slip back inside, probably to grab his stuff and some food. The thought made my stomach rumble in discomfort, but I ignored it, leaning against the car with my head down as I waited. Exactly ten minutes later Rick, Glenn, Maggie and T-Dog exited the restaurant, striding towards the car. Before I could breathe a sigh of relief at the personnel chosen for the run I heard a rumble from behind the restaurant.

Shoving my hands deep in my jacket, I kept my head low as Daryl rode his bike alongside the car. Rick unlocked the doors and I slipped in, ignoring whatever instructions were being delivered as the group stood outside. Sliding into the middle seat I groaned, having to sit bitch sucked, especially considering my heights and the size of this clown car, but it was the only option. In the past I would have ridden with Daryl, but I'd sooner give myself a papercut on my cornea than go anywhere near him.

The ride couldn't have been more than 20 minutes, but squished between T-Dog and Glenn, my legs practically under my chin in an effort to fit, it felt more like hours. Which was really bad because their body heat combined with the heater being on full blast made it almost impossible to stay awake. My head pitching forward several times, almost colliding with my knees before the motion jolted me back into consciousness as I snapped my head back. Rick's eyes flicked to mine in the rearview, narrowed in concern and I almost slapped myself in the face in order to stay awake. I knew that look, that was the _'you're about to get benched'_ look. I slipped my hand underneath my jacket sleeve, pinching my forearm to the point of pain, anything to stay awake and off his radar.

Maybe not sleeping for the better part of four days was a bad idea.

Rick pulled the car to the side of the road outside town and we all filled out, Daryl parking his bike behind us. Everyone circled around Rick, but I hung back, close enough to hear him, but far enough away I was separated from the group. T-Dog shook his head, anger written across his normally carefree face as he glanced at me. He might be madder at me than Daryl right now. Unable to stand disappointing him I looked away, shifting my weight from foot-to-foot as Rick outlined the plan of attack. It was all standard data so I hardly listened. Split up into teams of two, check your assigned areas, be quiet, be careful, meet back here when you were done. It was always the same, except for one glaring difference this time around.

"Glenn and Maggie, you take the south side. T-Dog and I will take the north, and Daryl and Alex you've got the west. We've checked the east side and there's nothing there so leave it be, just a waste of time," Rick explained.

I froze, sure my sleep addled brain misheard him. Did he say Alex and Daryl? Surely he meant Alex and T? As I watched the pairs break away, heading toward their respective grids I knew I heard him just fine because the only person left standing next to the car once everyone dispersed was the one person I didn't want to be in the same zip code as. Hell, at this point I would volunteer for a ride to another planet to put more distance between us.

He didn't say anything, just kept standing there, and curiosity got the better of me as my eyes shifted to his. He was looking directly at me with a carefully blank expression that made me want to pummel his gorgeous face. I narrowed my eyes at him, my jaw snapping shut as I turned swiftly heading towards our objective. I pulled two knives from my waist as I walked forward, eyes scanning the streets for walkers.

"Where's yur baton?"

It had been so long since he said anything to me that wasn't laced with venom my steps faltered and I glanced back at him. His eyes were thoughtful as he scanned me, looking for the weapon he'd once given me as a gift. He'd be searching until the rapture because I didn't have it anymore. I gave it to Beth days ago, telling her she needed a weapon to protect herself. The baton was the perfect solution as it provided her a means of defense with the least chance of endangering herself or others if she had occasion to use it. It wasn't the smartest move. The baton was a valuable weapon, and I loved it, but I had the irrational need to purge myself of anything that reminded me of the man behind me. So I parted with the baton, maybe at the expense of my own life.

Without offering him an answer I turned around, continuing towards the small clothing store directly ahead of us. I could practically hear Daryl's annoyance as we made our way to the door. I pounded on the glass, waiting and watching the interior of the store. A small group of walkers stumbled forward, slamming into the glass when they saw us, clawing as they tried to get out.

Daryl stepped back and I pulled open the door, the walkers staggering onto the sidewalk. An arrow whizzed past my head into the skull of the first walker and then I attacked, plunging my knife into the temple of another. Pulling it out quickly I spun, stabbing another through the chin before delivering a roundhouse kick to one that got oo close. It went down hard, but before I could stab it another arrow impaled itself in her eye. I looked over my shoulder, exhaling sharply as I pulled the arrow out, tossing it to him without a word, continuing into the store.

"Red." I halted, keeping my back to him as I bit my lip so hard I was probably drawing blood. I used to love that nickname, the way it rolled off his tongue, but now it made me angry. "Will ya look at me?"

It sounded like he was pleading with me. Something that soundly oddly like compassion laced in his tone, but that couldn't be right. I was hearing things, exhaustion playing tricks on me again. Daryl was incapable of something like that. I knew that for a fact. Besides, this was his doing and I'd be damned if five words undid days of torment.

"Stop." It was ironic, me using his words against him. How many times had I joked with him, laughed with him, only for him to say the exact same thing? The difference now was my tone held none of the affection his once had. "We have a job to do."

"Alex..." he tried again using my real name, but I interrupted him.

"I have nothing to say to you Daryl. Let's go." He followed me inside without further commented and I couldn't decide if I was happy or disappointed.

I didn't want him to chase me, but I longed for him to pull me closer.

I didn't want to talk to him, but I couldn't stand his silence.

I was a walking Shakespearean play. Sad, complicated, and fucking confusing.

We encountered a few more walkers, but between the two of us it was almost boring. I killed the one's closest to me and he did the same. I tried to ignore the fact that I kept a close eye on him, ready just in case he needed help. He may not want anything to do with me, but I didn't want him dead. We clearly weren't friends anymore, if we ever were, but he was a part of this group so I would protect him with my life if necessary. It was an instinct I couldn't bury no matter how hard I tried. I told myself it wasn't for me, that I didn't care one way or the other, but it was lie I could never really buy into.

He mattered to me.

The distance between us was excruciating.

The silence was killing me.

With the walkers dispatched we scavenged the store for anything useful which wasn't much. This place was small to begin with and it had been ransacked in the past, but I was able to find a few things that might work for Hershel, Beth and Lori. Stuffing the items in my pack I made my way outside, leaning against the store window as I waited for Daryl. I was twirling a knife in my left hand to pass the time when he came out a few minutes later, his pack full. Wordlessly I pushed off the wall, making my way back towards the car.

I had only taken a few steps when a group of walkers came out of nowhere. One minute the street was deserted and the next there were everywhere, hobbling towards us with vicious snarls of hunger. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl immediately raise his crossbow, taking aim and letting an arrow fly, but I couldn't move, my mind reeling at the sight before me. One of walkers, a young woman wearing tattered blue, yoga pants and a matching stripped racerback tank top was moving towards me. The knives in my hands that had only moments ago been poised for attack dropped to my side in shock.

It couldn't be.

I shook my head. Squeezing my eyes closed briefly hoping it would clear my vision, but it did nothing to erase the impossible sight before me. I could still see her. She was still coming towards me, and I fought to remain standing, my legs trembling at I watched a ghost from past. I thought I heard Daryl yelling, fighting his way to me as he let arrow after arrow fly, but I didn't move, my eyes locked on the walker that was the spitting image of my baby sister, Haley.

She looked...fresh for lack of a better word. About as human as a walker could look given they were dead. She wasn't missing pieces of flesh or appendages, her clothes were relatively clean and intact, and her hair was still attached to her head. All-in-all she could have won America's Next Top Model – Walker Edition with how "good" she looked.

It was the clothes that threw me. They were an exact replica of what my sister was wearing the last time I saw her, the day she died. A chocked sob punched out of my lungs as I fought to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew to be true, but if I learned anything the past few days it was that I couldn't trust my own mind. She couldn't be here. She'd died. I sobbed over her body, a gun in my hand as I tried to gather the courage to put a bullet in her brain. It had taken me hours, but as the first hints of reanimation began I pulled the trigger.

Didn't I?

The memory, like most these days, was fuzzy, my brain slow to comprehend, my heart stalling as the pain in my chest expanded. I put my hands out in front of me like it would somehow block out the memory and the approaching walker, but it was no use, she was still there and all I could see was my sister. Her hair and eyes the spitting image of the father I hated. We didn't have many features in common, but our bodies were almost identical. Tall, athletic, and slender. Devoid of the curviness men coveted in women.

"Haley," I rasped, my voice breaking as I backed away. I was acutely aware I might be losing my mind, my grip on reality slipping through my fingers like sand through an hour glass. It wasn't possible for her to be here, but she was all the same.

"Alex!"

My thoughts were so tangled I couldn't place the voice, but the shout had sounded almost desperate. I couldn't remember where I was or what I was supposed to do. I could hardly remember how to breathe. I could only watch as she slowly came closer. My tenuous grip on reality snapped when I realized I was actually _happy_ at the possibility. Even if she was a walker and was going to kill me, she was here, and that meant I wasn't alone anymore. My knives dropped to the ground in a clatter, my eyes filled with tears as she lunged for me. Out of pure instinct I put my arms up stopping her attack, but she was strong and I was weak in more ways than one. I already killed her twice. I couldn't do it again. All at once her struggling ceased and she dropped, an arrowhead sticking out of the side of her skull.

"No!"

I looked up, shaking violently as someone ran towards me. I dropped to the ground, hovering over Haley as my tears fell. I heard someone yelling, screaming for someone to do something, and it took me a minute to realize the sounds were coming from me. Strong hands latched onto my arms dragging me away from the dead walker and to my feet, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to be with my sister.

A switch inside me suddenly flipped and in an instant I felt myself change. It was a shift I once found comforting, but hadn't let overtake me since the turn. Fury rolled through me, my blood boiling in my veins as I grabbed onto one of the hands holding me, pulling a pair of fingers back hard as strangled yelped sounded from the man, his grip faltering. I rounded on him, throwing a left hook he barely avoided as he jumped back, putting distance between us. His lips were moving, his hands up in a placating gestures, but I heard none of it, the cacophony of noise swirling in my ears numbing my sense. I was crazed, unhinged, and completely unable to stop myself.

His lips pressed into a thin line, a look of sadness passing over his face as he realized I wasn't backing down. I snarled, swinging my left foot forward in a front kick. He lunged to the side, lessening the blow to his shoulder, but it knocked him off balance and I didn't wait from him to recover as I kept attacking. Throwing another punch, he ducked, taking another step back, his face full of regret as he tried to keep distance between us, and I realized he wasn't fighting back, simply playing defense. It pissed me off even more and I let loose another barrage of punches and kicks, but I was drained, tiring much too fast, and he easily parried my moves, countering only to defend himself. When I threw the world's sloppiest left hook he caught it easily, spinning me around, my back to his chest, pinning my arms.

"Stop it!" he hissed in my ear.

I stiffened in his hold, the deep, southern, twang registering on some primal level, cutting through the violent mist clouding my sight. The change was so sudden, so glaringly different from what I was just experiencing I lurched to the side at the disorientation, the arms wrapped around me the only thing keeping me upright. Then, everything that had only moments ago been blurry and unrecognizable was suddenly crystal clear. It was like watching regular TV only to suddenly switch to High Definition.

Swallowing hard I glanced around at the town, the memory of what we were doing, who I was with hammering in my brain like dive bombers. I knew Daryl was the one holding me, knew his voice, his smell, the feel of his body against mine better than I knew my own. Rick, Glenn, Maggie and T-Dog were standing a few feet away, varying degrees of concern etched onto their faces, but the wariness was the only thing I could see. They were scared, of me.

The smell of walkers caught my nose and I looked to the ground. They were lying all around, but the one closest to me held my attention. I stepped forward tentatively and Daryl released me, staying a step behind me as I inched closer, peering down. My eyebrows furrowed as I scanned her from head to toe, shaking my head in confusion. The features I was so sure were the spitting image of my sister only a few minutes ago now looked nothing like her. That wasn't her nose, her mouth or her hair. I would know her anywhere, alive or dead, and this wasn't her. It was the clothes I thought as I looked them over again. They were exactly like hers. I'd been to enough psychologists to know that in my need to conjure up a dead woman my mind filled in the blanks with what I wanted to see. I was so alone, so utterly isolated, I fabricated a way to fill the void inside me with what I wanted so badly to be true. Licking my lips I wrapped my arms around myself in an effort to hold myself together, too many emotions waring for supremacy within me.

Shame.

Guilt.

Embarrassment.

My eyes darted around nervously, but I couldn't meet anyone's gaze head on. My humiliation so heavy I was surprised I could stand under its weight. I thought I knew about humiliation after _that night_ , but I was wrong. That was nothing compared to this. The only thing I was absolutely certain of at the moment was I had to get out of here, now. I knew the chaos whirling inside of me would subside, but I couldn't do that with an audience. I just needed somewhere that wasn't here.

Before I knew it I was running, dashing quickly across the street and into the woods before anyone could even call out for me. I was sleep deprived and starving, but I was still fast, my arms and legs pumping and burning with effort as they carried me away. I didn't know where I was going as I flew through the woods, branches and twigs snagging on my clothes and scrapping my arms and face as I twisted and turned in no particular direction. The further I ran the faster the memories seemed to disappear from my mind so I kept going.

Squirrels and birds scattered in my wake as I pushed faster, further into the woods. My heart was pounding from exertion, but I didn't stop, not even when I couldn't breathe. I was so focused on escaping, literally running from my fears, I never heard the heavy pounding of footsteps behind me. The whispers and taunts in my mind far too loud to be drowned out by something so innocuous.

For the second time in less than ten minutes a pair of arms circled me, pulling me to the ground as I crashed down, a body falling with me. My knees impacted the ground painfully, but I felt a hand cup the back of my head, protecting me as we skidding and rolled before coming to a stop. I was shaking like an addict in withdrawal, my joints aching, my face wet with tears as I looked up into Daryl's devastatingly blue eyes. He was perched over the top of me, our limbs tangled, his arms keeping me securely in place.

"Get off me," I demanded, pushing against his chest with no result. He was bigger, stronger, and was keeping me pinned. I was trapped and it petrified me. I started to panic, pushing harder. My eyes zipping left and right as I tried to find an escape. "Daryl...please, let me up...I won't run."

The terror in my voice had him moving so fast I couldn't track it. In an instant he was off me, sitting a few feet away, arms draped over his knees as he panted hard. He was sweating, his shirt plastered to his chest even though it was freezing out, and I vaguely wondered how long he was chasing me for him to be so sweaty given the temperature. I wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure he even deserved an explanation given our current relationship or lack thereof, so I said nothing. Pulling myself into a sitting position I inspected the scrapes on my hands and arms with unwarranted attentiveness. They were nothing, not even worthy of the Marvel Band-Aids I found for Carl that were stashed in his bag.

"Ya a'right?" It was such an absurd question I couldn't' help the hysterical laugh that bubbled up.

Did I look alright?

Would someone who was alright think there already twice dead sister had suddenly come to life for a third go-round?

Was it alright to go all Fight Club on someone from your group?

"Red..."

"Stop," I bit out, using his favorite word again, holding my hand up, a warning in my eyes. We were not doing this. He may not understand the damage he inflicted, but he did it nonetheless, and now he thought we were gonna sit around and _chat_? My grandmother used to tell me to forgive and forget. I was never been able to do it as a child and nothing much had changed since then. I was neither Jesus nor did I have Alzheimer's so it wasn't happening.

Standing up I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Where the hell was I? I wasn't sure which direction I came or how to get back, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. With any luck by the time I got back everyone may have contracted a particularly nasty bout of amnesia and forgotten everything they saw today. A girl could hope.

"Haley," he whispered, stopping me cold.

"Careful with your next words."

"Ya kept sayin' her name. That walker, ya thought it was yur sister?" I sent him a withering glare, dragging my tongue over my teeth in annoyance. I was screaming her name? Jesus, could this day get any worse? "Was it her?"

You'd think my silence would be screaming loud and clear that I didn't want to talk about it, but Daryl was like a dog with a bone sometimes.

"No," I hissed, offering nothing more on the subject. Not for the first time I regretted sharing that part of myself with him. Knowledge was power and I gave him a loaded gun he was now pointing at my head.

Brushing myself off I started in the direction I hoped was correct, but Daryl reached out, grabbing my hand. I was so shocked at his brazenness I just stared at his hand in amazement. He either had balls the size of boulders or was mentally impaired. I sent him a calculated look, making sure there was no misunderstanding between us. It was important he fully grasp the situation.

"Daryl, I'm only going to say this once, then I'm going to start breaking bones." I paused, eyebrows raised, letting my words sink in. "Don't touch me."

He lost that privilege when he'd cast me aside. He let go, but not as quickly as I would have liked. He did it like it pained him, like he was actually considering holding on and fighting it out. Shaking my head at him I turned back around, striding off into the woods, my temper fuming.

"Never meant to hurt ya."

His voice was so soft, so quiet I almost didn't hear it, and I was positive I must have misheard him. I stiffened, stopping mid-step, my fists clenched at my sides. I didn't turn around, knew if I did I'd fall apart, again. I just waited, my breathing shallow as my mind raced with all the things I wanted to hear and all the things I didn't. I wasn't the forgiving kind, never had been, but these past few days had been some of the worst I could remember and that was saying something. He said he never meant to hurt me, but did it matter? He still had.

"I ain't..." I could hear him shuffling behind me, could almost hear the gears in the gears in his brain turning he was thinking so hard. "I ain't good at this." I snorted. Tell me something I didn't know. He cracked his knuckles and even though I wasn't looking at him I knew he was biting him thumbnail. "I never...I don't...with you...I just..." I rolled my eyes in exasperation. At this rate we would both be 100 before he finished a sentence. Turning around I looked at him, hands on my hips.

"Land the plane Daryl." When he didn't say anything I sighed heavily. "You can't have it both ways. You don't get to feel something one minute and take it back the next. It isn't right. It isn't fair. I'm not a goddamn Yo-Yo."

"I fucked up."

"No, fucking up is forgetting someone's birthday or letting their plant die when they're out of town. What you did was worse. I trusted you and you hurt me." I swallowed hard. I didn't want to admit that, didn't want to show the vulnerability, but this man was my kryptonite. "I'm a big girl. I can accept that you don't feel that way about me. I'm sorry I misread the situation. It won't happen again." He opened his mouth to speak, but I put my hand up, silencing him. I had to get this out, once and for all. "I can handle a lot, I can make my piece with just being your friend, but I can't handle being discarded like I'm worthless. I can't...I can't take being left behind. Everyone in my life always leaves, one way or another, and I won't allow someone else in...let them get close to me only to have them disappear."

I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them back, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I couldn't read the look on his face and that made me uneasy. My eyes shifted to the ground and my voice was small as I continued.

"If you don't want to be friends either that's fine too. We can just be part of the same group. I'll give you space, we can avoid each other. We'll talk to Rick, figure something out. But please, stop treating me like I don't matter. Hostility I can make peace with, it's the indifference I can't take. The way you look at me...like you wish I wasn't here." I had to stop and take a measured breath before continuing, "My dad looked at me like that up until the day he died, and I can't...please don't look at me like that."

I exhaled slowly when I was done, centering myself after the admission. I wasn't religious by a long shot, but I imagine that was what confession felt like. I was unsteady on my feet, feeling more drained from my declaration than everything that had happened today.

"I don't wanna be yur friend," he stated after a moment, his voice clear and without an ounce of doubt.

In my life I had been shot multiple times, stabbed more times than was reasonable, strangled, and even declared clinically dead for three minutes at one point, but none of that even came close to the pain those six little words inflicted. It felt like someone took a sledgehammer to my heart and then set it on fire just to make sure the job was done. I knew Daryl was blunt, but man I would have given my left tit for some sugar coating on that one.

Nodding jerkily I sniffled, keeping my eyes downcast as I swiveled around. Suck it up Alex. You told the man you could handle it so put on your big girl panties and handle it. The problem was I may have been lying. I was prepared for him to say he didn't want to stick his tongue in my mouth, but I was not expecting him to completely pull away and end our friendship. It hurt, bad. A hurt so deep and absolute I wasn't sure I'd ever recover.

What was wrong with me?

People had drifted in and out of my life since I could remember, but no one had ever caused pain like this before. Not even my good for nothing father. My feet shuffled forward of their own accord, and I found I didn't care if I was going the right direction anymore.

"That ain't enough for me." My feet stopped, my body frozen, and my heart...my heart was pounding a mile-a-minute. "Look at me," he pleaded.

Licking my lips I turned around, my eyes drifting to his face. He looked pale, like he might be sick at any moment, and I wanted to laugh. The two of us made quite a dysfunctional pair.

"I don't know what tha hell I'm doin'," he admitted, running his hands through his dirty hair. "Never wanted a woman more than a night, if that."

My face scrunched up. I could have lived without knowing that. I had the irrational need to ask for their names and social security numbers so I could hunt them down and beat the shit out of them. Which was ridiculous on so many levels. Not to mention a tad impractical in today's world.

"I don't know how to do this." His hands gestured back and forth between us. "I ain't a good man. I'm nobody, nothing, but with you...I wanna be different...better."

"I don't want you to be anything other than what you are," I admitted. "I wouldn't change anything about you." His eyes snapped to me, his brow furrowed like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, and I walked towards him. "Except when you wear shirts with sleeves, I would change that. The mojo and all," I added with a tentative smile.

In three huge strides he was in front of me, his eyes darting all over my face, his movements uncertain as he reached for my hand only to pull up just short. I smiled at him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to me until there was no space between us.

"You are enough Daryl Dixon. Don't ever doubt that."

He wore a pained expression as he held my face in his hands, brushing his lips softly against mine as my eyes fluttered closed. It was brief, chaste, hardly the passionate make-out session we'd shared a few days ago, but somehow this felt more intimate, like a promise. The way he held me so gently, like I was precious made me feel cherished.

"M'sorry, I..." I cut him off with another kiss, his arms wrapping around my waist as we both tried to tell each other everything we struggled to do with words. When air became a priority we broke apart our foreheads touching.

"I know," I told him. I wasn't sure I really did, but I was willing to try. I was willing to give him another chance because deep down I knew what kind of man he was, even if he didn't.

He grinned, holding me close as whispered, "Ya ain't worthless. Yur everythin'." I pulled back slightly, holding his face in my hands, needing to make sure we cleared the air. That there was no misunderstanding going forward.

"If we do this...it's you and me, no matter what." I knew the kind of pressure I was putting on him and that it might be too much too soon, but I needed his assurance before I let him hold my heart in his hands again that he wouldn't break it. "You can't do this again. If it's too much or you start to freak out or whatever just talk to me, we'll figure it out, together. I can handle anything but silence."

"You and me," he promised, eyes pleading for the chance I'd already given him.

"Give me a secret...bring me a sign...give me a reason, to walk the fire...see another dawn, through a daughter's eyes...you give me a reason to walk the fire," I whispered, eyes closed as I uttered the phrase I hadn't said in a long time.

"What's that?"

"Something from another life." My voice shook at the confession. A confession I wasn't ready to tell him about in full, yet. "It is as close to praying as I've ever come and for the better part of my life it my reason to keep going, to do what needed to be done, but I don't need it anymore.

"Why?"

"Because my reason is you."

He sucked in a sharp breath, crushing me against his body in a bruising hug. "Don't deserve ya." I laughed, the irony of the situation not lost on me. Of the two of us I was the one the one lacking. He just didn't know it yet.

"I know you need time to...adjust and that's fine. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I even promise to try and only grope you in private." He pulled away at that, glaring at me, but the laughter in his eyes made it hard to take him seriously. "But I promise you, if you ever pull this shit again, if you ever leave, you better be prepared to lose a few teeth in the process."

He laughed, pressing a kiss against my forehead before wrapping his hand around mine and striding back towards the others. In the opposite direction I was heading mind you, fucking directions. I tried to squash the whispers in my head that told me to doubt his promises. Those were old fears born from past experiences some of which weren't even mine, but they were hard to ignore. My heart wanted badly to believe him, but the mind was a terrible place sometimes. It could twist and manipulate until you couldn't find your way out of the rabbit hole. I'd spent the better part of my life lost there, and it had lead me down a path I almost didn't come back from.

I didn't want to be that person anymore. I didn't want that life. I wanted more. I wanted him. Whatever that looked like. As he held my hand, confidently guiding me back to our family, I felt safe from all the things that hurt me.

Even if most of them were on the inside.

* * *

 **So...the resolution is here and I must know what you think. Let me know, pretty please.**

 ** **Also, I made a new cover for the story. Do you like it? Love to hear your thoughts on that too.****


	16. Footloose

**Footloose**

I looked from the CD in my hand to Glenn, my eyebrows somewhere in my hairline as T sputtered and choked next to me. Glenn just shrugged, and not too apologetically I might add.

"This is not what I signed up for." Me either big guy.

"Oh come on, you wanted a surprise, _this_ will be a surprise." Glenn was trying to convince himself just as much as us. He wasn't fooling me.

"Good surprise Glenn not..." I waved the CD around like it would explain everything I couldn't.

"I'm with boo-boo, this is not a good surprise. Good surprises are like..." His face scrunched up in thought as he tried to think of an example. When his face got bright and he snapped his fingers I should have known he'd bring the stupid. "Baby's. Baby's are great surprises!"

Glenn and I looked at each other for a beat before I cleared my throat. "Uh T, how is a baby even a surprise? If you have sex without a condom what are you expecting nine months later? An iPhone?"

"Hey, I'm trying to bring some positivity Mrs. Negative Nancy."

I scoffed, "Negative Nancy! I'm the one trying to pull off the miracle of the apocalypse. And did you just make me a Mrs.? What am I, an old spinster with 100 cats?"

"If the shoe fits."

I rounded on him, darting round his massive frame so fast he didn't have time to blink. In an instant my arm was wrapped around his throat squeezing as his knees buckled, his gigantic bear claws grabbing onto my arm trying to pull me off.

"Take it back!" I demanded as we sunk down to the ground, his body wiggling in my hold.

"No way." He was barely able to choke out the words as I kept him securely locked down. "Yy..ou...re an old ccc...at ll...ad...y." Old cat lady my ass.

With my free hand I rubbed my knuckls hard against his bald skull laughing when he swatted at me, profanity filling the empty hallway. My nuggie's were legendary.

"Knock it off!" Glenn roared. Reluctantly I released T. The two of us climbing to our feet as we pushed and shoved each other the whole way up. "I swear you two are like brother and sister."

I cocked my thumb at him, "Brother from another mother."

"Chokehold's illegal _sis_ ," he hissed, rubbing his throat, his face promising revenge. I waved him off with a roll of my eyes. He didn't scare me.

"Anyways, back to Glenn and his shitty taste in music," I joked.

"Are you really going to be picky given the circumstances?" he glared at me. "It's the best I could do. It was this or Lady Marmalade." Lady Marmalade didn't sound so bad. I would kill it as Pink.

"OK, let's not panic," I told the duo. "We can make this work." T scoffed and Glenn shifted uncomfortably. I looked back down at the CD and grimaced, this was going to be awful.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" T questioned, looking for any excuse to high-tail it out of here. I pinned him with a look that said if he moved there would be more nuggie's in his immediate future.

"Because, it's Carl's birthday and this is what he wants."

Technically, no one was exactly sure when his birthday was given our lack of calendars, but Lori confirmed it was _"around now"_. Jesus, we were shitty human beings sometimes.

"This is what he wanted?" T pointed at the CD like it personally offended him.

"Well no, he didn't ask for this," I stated, holding up the CD and narrowing my eyes at Glenn. "But this is what we have." Technically we also had Lady Marmalade, but something told me Lori would literally kill me if I went that route. Plus, T would look scary in lingerie.

"What did he ask for?" Glenn asked and I thought back to my conversation with the boy a few weeks ago.

" _What's up man?" I asked, sliding down the wall and sitting next to him._

 _We were spending the night in an abandoned lawn care business and everyone else was scavenging for melee weapons. This place was a serial killers paradise. T was currently stripping a lawn mower of its blades and making a sword that looked like something Wesley Snipes wielded in Blade._

 _"Nothing." He kept his head down, pretending to read the comic book in his hands._

 _"Doesn't look like nothing. Come on, tell Aunt Alex," I joked and saw a small smile creep on his adorable face. It was rare to see it these days, and I made a promise to try and make him smile more often. I missed it. The world was doing a number on him, had robbed him of his childhood, and I knew firsthand how shitty that was._

 _"It's stupid."_ _Pulling the comic book out of his hand I set it down beside me._

 _"Remember the other day when Hawkeye got really mad and threatened to strangle me in my sleep because I almost broke that arrow?" Accidentally, I added silently._

 _"Bolt," he corrected._

 _"Don't encourage him." I couldn't have Carl turning to the dark side. "Do you remember?"_

 _Carl giggled, "Yeah."_

 _"Was that stupid?"_

 _"Are we talking about him or you?" I sent him a warning look. The kid was too smart for his own good. "Nah, it wasn't stupid. It was funny. You guys are always funny."_

 _I grinned at him. "See, if that's not stupid nothing is. Now spill."_

 _For the record, Daryl getting pissed about that_ _ **was**_ _stupid. When he learned to respect the mojo I'd learn to respect his arrows._

 _"It's my birthday or at least I think it is."_

 _I looked down at him. His birthday? Honestly, I hadn't thought about something so trivial in a long time because it simply didn't matter. Hell, even before people starting eating each other I never really celebrating my birthday. For as long as I could remember everything revolved around life and death, and if it didn't fit into those two categories it took a back seat or got left on the side of the road. Now that the world had officially gone to hell in a handbasket no one else thought about those things either. Sitting beside Carl, a little boy forced to grow up entirely too fast, I realized how wrong I was to dismiss the little things. They mattered, a lot._

" _Oh," I offered up lamely. I was a terrible Aunt._ _  
_

 _Come on Alex, you could do this. I was a kid once upon a time and more than a few birthday's were overlooked due to my drunk excuse for a sperm donor so it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine how he felt. Shit, my parents didn't even have the apocalypse as an excuse._

 _"Well, what do you want?"_

 _I couldn't fix that the world had ended, and also couldn't fix that it appeared both his parents forgot his birthday, but I could damn sure buy his affection. I'd do just about anything to erase the look on his face right now._

 _"I'm good," he murmured, so far from good it was comical._

 _Nudging him with my shoulder I asked again, "Come on, tell me, what do you want?"_

 _I crossed my fingers it was something I'd be able to pull off. Something in the realm of possible. It wasn't like Toys 'R Us or Amazon were still options. Groaning internally I braced for impact. What the hell was I thinking? If the kid asked me for a Sprite I'd probably only be able to rustle up an old, empty can._

 _Maybe._

 _"Promise you won't laugh?" he asked._

 _"Cross my heart and hope to die." I made an 'X' over my heart to solidify the promise._

 _"I want everyone to be happy."  
_

 _I stopped breathing, my brain unable to compute his request. I was 99% sure he'd broken me._ _He wanted everyone to be happy? When I was his age I wanted a drum set and a Guinea pig. Neither of which I ever got mind you._ _Wow, this kid really aimed high, and was a better person than I could ever hope to be. Not to mention, there were better odds I'd stumble across a unicorn being ridden by a magical leprechaun than find a way to "make everyone happy". Apparently if I wanted the title of "Favorite Aunt" I was going to have to work for it._

 _"You think I'm crazy," he added sadly._

 _"No, no I don't," I said quickly, taking his hands in mine and making him look at me. "I think it's amazing. I think you're amazing."_

 _"Thanks Aunt Alex."_

 _He leaned over, hugging me hard and it took everything I had not to cry. I knew one thing, come hell or high water he was getting his fucking birthday wish even if I had to kill someone to make it happen._

"Hold up boo-boo, are you telling me Carl's birthday wish hinges on us 'making everyone happy' and all we have at our disposal is the soundtrack to Footloose?" T asked, skepticism dripping from his tone.

"That's correct."

"We're screwed," Glenn uttered.

I shoved him in the shoulder. "No, we're not. I have a plan."

"That's what I'm worried about." When I scowled at him T spoke up.

"He has a point. Your plans rarely work out."

"What?" I almost screamed. "My plans do the exact opposite of not work out. They almost always work." Sometimes. They both looked at me doubtfully. "What about trapping the herd in Senoia?" I taunted. "That went off without a hitch."

"Aside from the part where I fell in the ravine and was almost eaten?" Glenn pipped up.

I waved him off, "That was your bad, not the plan's bad. Don't blame the plan for your shitty choice in footwear." Hey Glenn, the 1980's called and they wanted their Converse back.

"What about the time you were jumping across a roof and almost fell?" I knew I shouldn't have told T that story. The traitor.

"But I didn't, and the plan worked."

Glenn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And then there was the time you tried to sneak out the window in that gas station and got stuck? Weren't you hanging there for like an hour?"

"I had a big breakfast that day, and that window was smaller than it looked from the ground." Talk about giving a girl a complex.

"Oh, remember the time she tried to shoot Daryl's crossbow and shot out the window in Rick's car instead," T added with a laugh, talking about me like I wasn't standing right beside him. Glenn nodded along with him, a wistful smile on his face. That was also not my fault. That thing kicked like a mule. I was surprised Daryl hadn't shot his eye out yet.

"Enough!" I shrieked. "I'm glad I keep you entertained, but let's focus on Carl. We have tonight and a few hours tomorrow to get it right. You guys wearing your big girl panties?"

Glenn rolled his eyes, adjusting his hat, but T grinned and I knew I made a critical error.

"Actually, I don't..."

I cut him off, holding my hand up, closing my eyes. "Don't finish that sentence!" It was too late. The image was in my head, probably for life. "Meet me in the music room after dinner."

It felt like serendipity we were staying in a small school on the outskirts of a blink and you'll miss it town. What were the chances we needed to pull off a miracle for Carl and the place we were currently calling home came with a soundproof room? Good to know fate was on our side sometimes. Too bad that bitch was MIA when it really mattered.

At dinner I somehow managed to eat at least half my gruel, choking on the last bit as I tried to ignore the funny metallic taste and slimy texture. Looking around I noticed I wasn't the only one on the struggle bus. Hershel looked green while Rick looked pale and sweaty. A few minutes ago I saw Carl pretend to stretch and toss the contents of his bowl under the bleachers. Kid had game. Gagging I kept my mouth closed, slapping my hand over it for good measure, scared I might barf right there on the gym floor. Maggie glanced up, eyes concerned as she looked at me.

"You alright?"

"M'hmm," I answered, my lips still sealed shut. If I opened them there was no telling what would come out. Nothing good I promise you that.

"Is it bad? I thought maybe adding some extra seasoning might help."

I gave her a thumbs up, trying to smile as I swallowed down the gelatinous lump. The only person unaffected by Maggie's inability to heat up the contents of a can was Daryl, who was sitting beside me practically licking his bowl clean. Not that it said much about her cooking. The man once ate the raw innards out of a squirrel without batting an eyelash.

Jumping up I casually walked over to the table, depositing my bowl, and quietly making Carol pinky promise me she'd never let Maggie cook anything ever again. Once she swore an oath only Satan himself could undo I started towards the door, hoping no one would notice.

"Where you going Alex?" Rick asked from his spot next to Carl. Trying to keep calm I turned slowly, my brain racing with a plausible explanation that wouldn't invite unwanted company.

Think Alex.

"Uh..." I was coming up blank, my mind literally failing me, and I saw Daryl's eyes hone in on me, his body on high alert as he picked up on my nervousness. Oh crap, once that man caught the scent of trouble he was like a bloodhound. "I uhh, just need to do something."

T shook his head, clearly disappointed as he quickly threw his food away while everyone was distracted. Glenn was nowhere in sight, having already accomplished his mission to get away unnoticed. That guy was like smoke when he needed to be. All eyes were on me and I could feel sweat dripping down my neck. This was ridiculous. I faced interrogation under duress and here I was fumbling for a way to get out of a gym filled with friends.

"I need to change my tampon!" I yelled so loud the people stranded on the space station probably heard. The empty gym made the statement echo a few times just to make sure the job of dying from humiliation was complete.

I could feel my face heating in embarrassment, but my announcement did the trick. Rick sputtered a few times before nodding, and Daryl practically sprinted to the far end of the gym in an effort to give me space like it was a disease he might catch. T covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter and I made a mental note to nuggie the shit out of him the first chance I got. The women just nodded at me in sympathy. Not my best effort, but it worked. It was common knowledge boys were scared of tampons so without further comment I was able to make a run for the music room. T only minutes behind me

"How did you get out so quick?" I asked him.

"Said I had to pee."

My mouth dropped open. "Huh, guess I could have gone that route."

"Oh no boo-boo, yours was much better. No one is gonna come looking for you for at least three to five days."

"Shut up. Make yourself useful and lock the door."

He laughed all the way as I popped the CD in the ancient, portable boombox, and set to work. We caught a stroke of luck that some extra batteries were in the teacher's desk drawer and this relic actually worked.

However, this was only one phase of the plan. Everything else hinged on T and Glenn having some kind of rhythm. Turns out worrying about T was a waste of time. He was a dancing machine and then some so I sent him into his own corner to "work it" while I tried to help Glenn. He was so bad having two left feet would be an improvement. In the end, I patted him on the shoulder, gave him an encouraging smile that didn't reach my eyes and told him to dance like no one was watching. Which hopefully no one would be.

We practiced for as long as we could without arousing any suspicion which thanks to me was close to 45 minutes. I was surprised no one came looking for us, but since they were all sufficiently freaked out by the state of my uterus it worked in our favor. But seriously how long did they think it took to change a tampon? If I really was dealing with Aunt Flo I'd need medical intervention at this point.

When we were done I put the boombox in the corner, hiding the CD case as we snuck out of the room one at a time, going our separate ways and promising to meet back tomorrow morning for a final rehearsal. Strolling down the darkened hallway I swayed my hips, the music playing in my head as I twirled in a circle.

"Whatcha doin'?" I froze in the middle of my moon walk, glancing over my shoulder at Daryl wondering if I could blame this on my period too. He raised his eyebrows,studying me for a beat before coming to some kind of conclusion. "Never mind," he amended. It was probably a red flag this type of behavior didn't surprise him anymore.

"You headed out to keep watch?" He nodded. "I'll come with you."

We made our way out the side doors where the cars were staged, both of us climbing onto the hood of the truck. We were sitting on the car for less than a minute and already I felt the chill in the air all the way to my bones. Leaning to the side I fished my beanie out of my back pocket, pulling it on my head as I zipped my jacket up as high as it would go.

Daryl glanced at me from the corner of his eyes as he lit a cigarette. "Need a new jacket or yur gonna freeze to death this winter Red."

"Tell me something I don't know Katniss." I stuffed my hands in my pockets, scooting closer to Daryl, and sighing as his body heat warmed me. "You're like my own personal human heater."

I practically heard him roll his eyes, but he didn't move away. We'd made progress in the few weeks since we kissed, fought, and subsequently made up. Things had essentially gone back to normal, well, normal for us anyway. I still drove him nuts, and he still made me want to smother him with a pillow in the most loving way possible. Probably not the most functional relationship in the world, but it worked for us.

Our time together were rare, stolen moments while no one was watching. Rick kept us on opposite watches most of the time because as the group's best forms of protection it made sense to stagger our rotation. The part he didn't voice was if something did happen he didn't want to chance losing both of us at the same time. It made sense and I understood his logic, but that didn't make it suck any less. It was the worst cock blocking in the history of mankind.

The unintended side effect was it made the few hours every night we shared all the more precious. We would lay side-by-side, his arm draped over me, my back to his chest as we took a moment for ourselves to cherish each other. It was the best part of my day. We hadn't kissed again, but not because I didn't want to. I did, a lot, but I also didn't want him to freak out so I followed his lead, trying not push him. At this rate I'd need to go into cryogenic stasis to make sure we reached second base before I died.

I knew he wanted to, could physical feel his desire when he held me at night, but something always held him back. He would pull away at the last second or just stare at me like he wanted to say something only to snap his mouth closed before he could complete his confession. His restraint would have been admirable if it wasn't wreaking havoc on my hormones and my sanity.

I tried not to think about it and found contentment just being near him. It wasn't easy, but it was enough. I knew it sounded corny, cliché, and childish, but I was willing to take what I could get from the man. He was keeping his promise not to run when things got hard. Together we were figuring out this weird thing called a relationship. He wasn't conventional, would never do things the way you expected, but he showed me he cared, and that was all I needed.

It was in the tender way he held me at night when no one else was watching. A tenderness he only showed me. He held me like I was the most precious thing in the world, like his arms alone could protect me from all that would try to hurt me. I felt it in the way his eyes always searched for me when he entered the room. His shoulders only relaxing once he found me. I heard all the things he could never say by the way he touched me, if only for a moment. A light brush of his hand against mine to say hello. A subtle nudge to my shoulder a goodbye or be careful. Yeah, I knew he cared for me and that was enough. He was enough.

"What ya up to?"

"Huh?" I was equal parts playing dumb and actually not expecting his question I was so lost in my head.

"Yur sneakin' around with Glenn and T." I looked over at him as he blew out a puff of smoke, smiling wide before letting my head fall on his shoulder without commenting. He hadn't actually asked a question. "Red," he warned. I shivered, more at the cold than the bite in his voice and he put his arm around me, tugging me flush against him, leaving his arm draped around my shoulder.

"I'm always sneaking around with someone." His answer was a huff of annoyance and I realized I had to give him something or he'd never let it go. "If I promise I'm not planning anything that will get me or anyone else killed, and swear you'll know all about it tomorrow night will you not ask any more questions?"

"Everythin' ya plan has the potential for someone to get hurt." My head snapped up as I glared at him, but he just chuckled.

"Words hurt Merida." He shook his head in amusement, still looking at me expectantly. "We're not even going to leave the building. It's for a good cause, but it's a surprise and if I tell you that would ruin the surprise."

"A'right," he conceded and my eyes widened in shock. That was easier than I thought it would be.

"Really?"

"Hush, b'fore I change my mind."

I settled back against his shoulder, trying to actually keep watch, but between fatigue and his warmth it was a losing battle. I didn't even remember shutting my eyes when he gently shook me awake some time later.

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up ramrod straight, eyes scanning for danger.

"Easy," he chided. "Yur snoring so loud yur gonna bring every walker in earshot down on us."

My jaw practically hit the hood of the truck. "I. Do. Not. Snore." Did I?

His eyes were dancing with laughter. "Ya make these little noises, cute as hell."

"I'd think I'd rather saw logs, thank you very much," I pouted.

"Go get some sleep. Ain't no use here." That was Daryl for get some rest.

"You sure?"

He nodded, and I stretched, raising my hands over my head and arching my back trying to alleviate some of the kinks in my body. Letting my hands drop I turned to say a final goodnight, but the words died in my throat as I found him looking at me with a heated gaze, his lips slightly parted, back rigid, fists clenched. I looked behind me expecting to see...something that would inspire such a look, but found nothing.

"What..."

I was cut off when his hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me towards him. Before I could even process what was happening his lips brushed against mine and the idea of processing anything except the feel of him was impossible. The kiss was gentle, tentative, and over way too soon, but it had my body tingling with satisfaction and yearning for more. But when he pulled back I let him go, knowing that pushing the issue would only end with us right back where we started after the impromptu gas station mauling.

He leaned back, his blue eyes darker than I'd ever seen him, his breathing labored, and I was struck by how gorgeous he was. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I wanted to kiss him again and if I was being completely honest I wanted to do a lot more than that, but it was obvious tonight's festivities were coming to a close. Oddly enough I found I wasn't disappointed, anything but actually. I'd been kissed with more tongue and roaming hands by Aaron Crabbe behind the locker room in eighth grade, but it didn't hold a candle to this. Everything with Daryl was better, more. Now as long as he didn't freak out we could officially call this progress.

"Wow," I exhaled, barely able to keep from fanning myself. "You aren't gonna flip your shit now, right?" And just like that he was back, giving me the drool look I'd come to adore. When I winked at him he rolled his eyes and I laughed, sliding off the hood of the car. I pulled the door to the school open, stopping to holler at him over my shoulder. "You know if you want to continue that when you're done with watch I fully support your decision."

"Stop."

I laughed, "Don't stay out here all night.

It wasn't until later that night, when I felt a strong arm pull me against an equally strong body that I truly relaxed, falling into a sleep I could never achieve without the man behind me. I didn't even care if I slept loudly.

The next morning passed in a blur of pretending to do things I was supposed to while finding excuses to do the things I wanted. Glenn, T and I were running around like chickens with our heads cut off, and it wasn't going unnoticed. I just kept blaming it on my female reproductive organs, but I wasn't sure how much longer that was going to work. Especially considering my partners in crime had no such organs.

By the time dinner was done no one was surprised by anything we did anymore, if they ever were. I snuck off earlier under the guise of changing my tampon for the 300th time that day, leaving T and Glenn behind to corral the others. As the guys ushered everyone in I bit my lip doubting the validity of the plan yet again. It was too late to turn back now as the small space rapidly filled with confused members of our group. I plastered a semi-confident smile on my face standing in front of the room trying not to pee myself.

Glenn arranged them strategically against the back and side walls like we planned while T waited outside with Carl. It took them a while to notice I was already there as they tried to figure out what was happening, but when they looked at me every eyebrow in the room hit the ceiling. I should have known T was full of shit when he appointed himself the group stylist. When I asked what his qualifications were he just raised an eyebrow, looked me up and down slowly then laughed like that was answer enough.

Part one of the T's Extreme Makeover included not dressing like we were ready to storm the beaches at Normandy. He insisted guns and knives weren't kid friendly. Clearly he didn't grow up in a house like mine, but I did as he asked and lost _most_ of my weapons. I still had two knives tucked in my boots he didn't know about, but they weren't visible so they didn't count. You could take the girl out of the apocalypse, but you couldn't take the apocalypse out of the girl.

Part two was brushing your hair. That part only applied to me since T had no hair and Glenn's hat was superglued to his head. When I asked to borrow Maggie's brush earlier she frowned at me, glancing at my hair with a grimace and I self-consciously patted down my wayward locks. The fact she was worried about her brush was telling. It took me 10 minutes to comb out the knots, and I promised any deity listening I'd brush my hair 100 times every day if this torture would end. I swear my scalp felt like it was bleeding by the time I was done, and my hair felt impossibly heavy on my head with my thick, unruly mane spilling down my back and over my shoulders. I felt exposed and ridiculous, but I chose to trust T when he told me, _"boo-boo, you're sitting on the corner of awesome and bombdiggity"._ I had however confiscated his man card on the spot.

Part three was clothes. I discarded my worn jacket, opting instead for the long sleeved thermal I scavenged from a locker when we first arrived and my regular skinny jeans tucked into my combat boots. I felt like I was auditioning for a Gap commercial, but if this is what it took to make Carl's birthday wish come true I'd deal.

My eyes snaked around the room, watching the group, but I made a point of not looking anywhere in the hemisphere Daryl was currently occupying. Not that it mattered one bit. I felt his stare like a sunburn on my skin. It'd be a miracle if I made it through this without passing out from nerves or dry humping him in the corner, and dry humping at a kids birthday party was one step below bringing a clown.

Before Glenn went to get T and Carl I addressed the group, "First off, nothing is wrong." Rick visible relaxed, but looked no less confused. "Second, this is for Carl. Third, this room is soundproof."

I pinned Rick with a look, my eyes skirting to Daryl briefly to emphasize the point. If anyone was going to lose their shit in the group once this got started it was those two. It was important they remember no one, living or dead, would be able to hear anything outside this room.

Hopefully.

Looking at Daryl was a mistake. His eyes were so intense it was suddenly hard to swallow and I snapped my eyes away before I lost consciousness. Holy fuck nugget that man was lethal. I looked down quickly just to make sure my panties weren't on fire.

I nodded to Glenn who went to the door, calling out to T who immediately brought Carl in the room, placing him directly in the center. He looked confused and more than a little uncomfortable, taking in everyone surrounding him, but when I winked at him he smiled back. T and Glenn made their way to the front of the room, both taking up dramatic stances on either side of me.

"Happy Birthday Carl," I said and Glenn reached over, hitting play on the boombox.

The sound of drums beating out the iconic rhythm to _Kenny Loggins, Footloose_ pumped through the room. To my right Glenn started tapping his foot, his head bopping so out of sync it only made it better. Guess he hadn't magically found his rhythm overnight. When the deep plucking of the guitar started T flew into action, unleashing the meanest air guitar this side of the Mississippi. I almost lost it right there, but kept my expression schooled, draping my arms on both their shoulders as we all swayed to the beat, my foot tapping.

In the center of the room Carl's smile got so wide it was almost blinding and I knew in that moment no matter what we did he was going to love it. I noticed that Maggie and Beth were already laughing, their excitement giving us all the encouragement we needed. A beat before the lyrics started I stepped forward, sauntering up to Carl with a big smile as I bent down to his level, belting out the lyrics as they pumped through the speakers.

 _ **Been working so hard.**_

I clapped twice with the drums.

 _ **I'm punching my card.**_

This time when I clapped twice Carl joined in.

 _ **Eight hours, for what?**_

 _ **Oh, tell me what I got!**_

T stepped up beside me, going to town on his air guitar. We turned, back-to-back and I leaned backwards as he leaned forward, strumming his fake guitar as I continued to sing at the top of my lungs.

 _ **I've got this feeling.**_

 _ **That time's just holding me down.**_

Springing away from T I jumped towards Carl, spinning him around as he clapped with the song, the sound of his laughter making my heart swell. We stood opposite each other, kicking our feet out as we flung our heads back and forth, my hair whipping me in the face, repeatedly. I missed my hair tie.

As the next round of lyrics started Glenn and T broke away, Glenn snagging a laughing Maggie and pulling her forward while T went straight for Lori. I danced away from Carl, throwing my head back as I kept singing, gearing up for the chorus. I raised my hands higher and higher with each word, doing my best invisible lasso move as I looked around the room.

 _ **I'll hit the ceiling.**_

 _ **Or else I'll tear up this town.**_

When my eyes landed on Rick I pretended to rope him, dancing my way over, pulling my pretend rope. His hand covered his mouth in shock, but when he saw me coming he shook his head, holding out his hands like it could stop me or my invisible lasso. Sorry Officer Grimes, there was no stopping this dance party.

 _ **Now I gotta cut loose.**_

 _ **Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes.**_

 _ **Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees.**_

I grabbed his hand, pulling him forward intended to just shake, shimmy and dance like a fool around him while he stood there in shock, but in a move that surprised us both he snagged my hand, stopping me. He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief and I knew I was in for it. He pulled hard on my hand, twirling it up and over his head as I spun in a circle around him. My eyes were wide as he barked out a laugh, keeping a firm lock on my hand pushed me forward only to send me right back where I came from. He twisted and turned us every direction as we floated around the room. I wasn't even surprised when he pulled me towards him, dipping down so I went up, over and around his shoulder only to land on the other side. Thank god I stuck the landing. I'd never country danced a day in my life, but apparently Rick had and holy shit if he wasn't good. When the next set of lyrics cut in we were facing each other and he leaned forward, both of us holding invisible microphones as he belting out the words with me.

 _ **Jack, get back, come on before we crack.**_

 _ **Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose.**_

By sheer chance we ended up next to T and Lori who looked to be having just as much, if not more, fun than us. T and I stepped back at the same time, leaving the husband and wife standing in front of each other. It was a risky move. One that could explode in our faces, but to my utter amazement they didn't bat an eyelash at the close proximity. Rick grabbed Lori by the waist, pulling her close as she flung her head back in delight. They continued spinning around the room at a dizzying pace, and I wondered if they used to do this all the time. It certainly looked like it.

Carl saw his parents and whopped with laughter, dancing with Carol who was slowly but surely shaking off her self-consciousness as she cut a rug with a timid smiled. I glanced at Hershel who was surprisingly spry dancing with Beth, both beaming. Maggie and Glenn had yet to detach their tentacles, but that was no big surprise. T was content to break it down on his own in the corner doing a mean rendition of the shopping cart.

The only one who hadn't moved from his assigned seat was Daryl, total shocker. Apparently you couldn't take the redneck out of the hillbilly no matter what you did, but I prepared for this eventuality. He wasn't getting off that easy.

With the beat intensifying, the second round of lyrics imminent I sashayed my way towards him, hips shaking. He cocked his head to the side, almost like he didn't understand what he was seeing, both curious and cautious. The closer I got the further to the side his head turned like a dog when they heard a strange noise and I almost burst out laughing. If he turned anymore he'd fall over. Once his brain did the math and he realized I was on a collision course straight for him he looked ready to bolt. Too little too late Legolas. I sang loud, pointing to him.

 _ **You're playing so cool, obeying every rule.**_

He shook his head at me, trying to back up further into the wall as I pretended to cast a fishing line, theatrically snagging it on him, and then reeling it in. He tried not to smile, he really did, but it was useless, I had him.

 _ **Deep way down in your heart.**_

I made heart with my two hands, putting it over my chest and making it beat in tune with the music. Now he wasn't even trying to contain his smile. I kept coming closer.

 _ **You're burning, yearning for the some-somebody to tell you**_

 _ **That life ain't passing you by**_

Standing just a few inches from him I hooked my finger in his shirt, pulling him closer, our faces inches apart as I swayed back and forth, my hair flying around as I sang my heart out.

 _ **I'm trying to tell you**_

 _ **It will if you don't even try**_

He laughed as I winked at him, and I almost passed out from astonishment at the sound. Rub my nipples and call me Betty this was really working. If Daryl was laughing either the world was officially over or our hail mary was caught in the end zone as time expired.

 _ **You'll get by if you'd only cut loose.**_

 _ **Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes.**_

 _ **Ooh-whee, Marie, shake it, shake it for me.**_

 _ **Whoah, Milo come on, come on let's go.**_

 _ **Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose.**_

Leaving Daryl in his corner, I danced my way back to the center of the room where Carl was clapping with the music and stomping his feet. He danced with wild abandoned, like a kid, and it was everything. All I could hear over the music was the sound of laughter. It was in a word, perfect.

 _ **You got to turn me around.**_

 _ **And put your feet on the ground.**_

 _ **Gotta take the hold of all.**_

As the series of _"ahhs"_ started low in the background I pointed towards Glenn's side of the room, everyone singing together, then T's side and they copied the sound, and as the last one started I pointed at Carl who yelled it so loud my eardrum nearly burst. Thank god for sound proofing.

The crescendo was building and I was running in place, pumping my arms hard as I got my Flashdance on, Carl joining in. I waved my hands in the air, everyone singing louder and louder with each beat. I stopped, throwing a fist in the air, my feet wide apart as I brought it home.

 _ **I'm turning loose!**_

Everywhere I looked people were singing, dancing, laughing. I looked at Carl who was watching too, and he gave me a big thumbs up and I shook my head at him, but we weren't done just yet. Everyone continued whopping and hollering, singing along as the song reached the crescendo.

 _ **Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes.**_

 _ **Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees.**_

 _ **Jack, get back, come on before we crack.**_

 _ **Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose.**_

Getting ready for the big finale T, Glenn and I made our way to the front of the room, assembling in a line as the last lyrics started.

 _ **Footloose, kick off the Sunday shoes.**_

 _ **Please, Louise, pull me off of my knees.**_

 _ **Jack, get back, come on before we crack.**_

Because I was clearly Kevin Bacon in this group I started the line, dancing down the middle of the room just like in the movie, my feet kicking out back-and-forth as I made my way forward. I didn't need to look behind me to know everyone, save Daryl, was following.

 _ **Everybody cut, everybody cut.**_

 _ **Everybody cut, everybody cut.**_

 _ **Everybody, everybody cut footloose.**_

As the last beat pumped through the boombox Carl jumped in the air, clapping and cheering, his face flushed. I grinned at him, breathing hard. I really felt for Kevin Bacon, keeping that shit up was hard work, but it was all worth it when Carl flung himself into my arms. He hit me with such force I stumbled back, smiling as I wrapped my arms around his small frame, lifting him off the ground.

"Thank you Alex! It was awesome, just what I wanted!"

"I'm glad." I put him down as he ran to hug Glenn and T. Carl was only gone for a moment before I was enveloped in another crushing embrace. Lori's tears coming so hard they soaked the sleeve of my shirt.

"Thank you, thank you, I don't know what to say." She was sobbing as I hugged her, looking behind her at Rick for some assistance. "I can't believe you did this. Alex its..."

"It was nothing," I interrupted, pulling back to look at her. "I'd do anything for him."

She nodding, sniffling as Rick gently tugged on her shoulders and guided her away. Carl wasted no time bounding up to her, still sporting a toothy grin as he recounted every detail of his dance party. The group gathered around the child, listening to him as his arms flailed around in excitement, filing out of the room slowly.

I fist bumped T and nudged Glenn with my elbow as they passed by. "Told ya it'd work."

Glenn smiled with a nod and T threw his head back in a booming laugh. "Nicely done boo-boo."

I bowed dramatically. "Nice dance moves big guy. Your sprinkler is top notch."

"Damn right."

They left, both talking animatedly on their way out, and I noticed Rick lingering off to the side. His eyes looked wet, and I had a sudden fear I overstepped my bounds. Was he mad?

"Rick, I'm sorry if..." He put a hand up, stopping me, gathering himself.

"What did he want for his birthday?" His voice was soft, not like Rick at all. Right now he wasn't our leader, he was just a father trying to do right by his son.

"For everyone to be happy." He nodded, both happy and sad all at the same time. "He's a really great kid."

"He's lucky to have you," he commented.

"And you." Rick didn't give himself enough credit as a father or our leader.

He stepped forward, hugging me briefly whispering another thank you as he stepped back. "Hershel was right." I frowned, not sure where he was going with this. "You're the soul of this group," he added, "You don't see it, but I do, we all do. I know there are parts of your past you haven't shared, but I don't care about what you were before. I only care about what you are now. You gave my boy something tonight I thought he'd never experience again, happiness. A chance to just be a kid. I can never repay you. You're my family, never forget that."

I swallowed thickly as I watched him leave, unable to respond. He hit me with the equivalent of a verbal sledgehammer. I was so stunned I didn't notice Daryl step up beside me, and that was saying something because I could normally pinpoint that man's location within 50 feet using just my snake charmer as a guide.

He stepped in front of me, invading my personal space, and I was now speechless for an entirely different reason. Licking my lips I watched him, his eyes dragging excruciatingly slow over every inch of my body. It reminded me of how I looked, ridiculous, and I immediately started gathering my long hair with my hands, pulling a hair tie off my wrist. Before I could finish Daryl's hands stopped me, my hair cascading down my back. I shot him a puzzled look, but he didn't say anything as he reached out to touch a few loose strands, rubbing them between his fingers.

"Never seen it down," he commented softly, almost to himself. I shifted nervously in front of him. "I like it."

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. That was about as forward as he'd ever been. Daryl was all about nonverbal communication you normally needed an Enigma machine to decode. When his fingers brushed through my hair, cupping the back of my head as he pulled me towards him I may have blacked out. He didn't hesitate as he leaned down, capturing my lips in a devastating kiss that made my knees weak. He wrapped an arm around my waist, keeping me upright while pulling me flush against his body as my hands looped around his neck. He was everywhere, all around me, devouring me. I ran my hands through his hair and he growled in his chest, his tongue darting into my mouth and tangling with mine. Someone moaned, probably me, as the kiss deepened.

For someone with the potential to blow a gasket at the mere mention of intimacy the man sure could kiss. It shouldn't surprise me. Daryl was good at everything, and this was no exception. A buddy of mine once told me kissing burned 6.4 calories a minute. I wonder if Daryl was willing to work out all night cause I was down.

The need for oxygen pulled us a part, but he kept his forehead pressed against mine as my fingers curled into his shirt. Making out with him was my new favorite hobby. He smirked at my dazed expression, brushing his lips against my forehead as he stepped back and I almost whined at the loss.

"Come on Red." He grabbed my hand, his large hand completely enveloping my smaller one as he walked towards the door. I let him pull me along because my brain function had yet to reset. It was like my synapses had all liquefied into a big, horny pile of uselessness.

"Can we do that again?" I asked, not even remotely joking. He glanced back at me, a smug look on his face. "But maybe naked?" That wiped the smug look right off his face.

"Stop." Now it was my turn to smirk.

"You know this room is soundproof right? Be a shame to let that go to waste."

He just shook his head, continuing out of the room, much to my displeasure, as he guided us back to the gym. My disappointment at not being able to play heels-to-Jesus with him was erased the second we entered the gym. You could still feel the excitement in the air. The happiness pulsing through the room as everyone got ready for bed. It made my heart soar.

"Ya did this Red," he whispered looking around. "Proud of ya."

I squeezed his hand, glancing up at him. "I didn't do it alone."

He brought our joined hands to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to the back of my hand. "Maybe not, but Rick's right 'bout what he said."

As I got ready for bed I felt lighter than I had in months. Today was a good day, and I couldn't remember the last time we could say that. I knew it couldn't last, knew the world was much too harsh, but for just a few hours we'd beaten back the savageness. We found happiness. We won.

They say when you can't find the sunshine, _be_ the sunshine. As much as I could, for as long as possible, I was going to shine my ass off.

* * *

 **So, my twins have the flu and they were kind enough to share it with me. I've never had the flu before but let's just say when I get to the part in the prison with the outbreak I'll have some solid first hand accounts of how crappy it feels. My hair actually hurts. How is that even possible?**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wanted to write something that showed the characters relationships with each other in a lighthearted way. It was fun to write (I've imagined the Footloose scene in my head probably more than is normal), and I hope it was fun to read. There won't be many, if any, more times like these given what's ahead, but that makes this all the more special. Don't you think?**

 **Apologies if there are more errors than normal, but when I was trying to go back through for edits the screen was so blurry all I accomplished was accidently deleting an entire paragraph and my watery eyes dripping on my computer. When I can sit up without assistance I promise to go back and fix them.**


	17. The Things We Do

**The Things We Do**

I wish somebody would've told me that hour we spent in the music room celebrating Carl's forgotten birthday would soon be considered the good old days. If I knew that would be the last time something even remotely positive happened I would've played another song, or two. My grandmother used to say fate finds a way. Lately she was finding a way to royally fuck us over at every turn. That carefree night in the music room, laughing until our stomach hurt was nothing but a distant memory now. I would do anything to go back, to stretch out the minutes, to keep pretending.

We were forced from the school the very next morning by a herd, and things had been downhill from that point forward. The temperatures that were flirting on the edge of winter suddenly plummeted into the realm only penguins and polar bears found comforting. Most morning's ice covered the Georgia countryside as far as the eye could see, and the near constant cloud cover denied the big orange ball in the sky any chance of providing warmth.

Food was another story with an equally crappy ending. What little game we were able to scrounge up only weeks before evaporated along with the last hints of fall. Sometimes we were lucky enough to rustle up a couple squirrels, maybe an occasional owl or fox if we were having a really big day, but the larger game had long since disappeared. Our situation passed desperate the night Carol dumped out the food pack and four measly cans hit the floor along with everyone's hope. Every night I listened to grumbling stomachs as I kept watch, the knot in my own stomach having nothing to do with hunger as the sounds of my family slowly starving made my eyes water with tears I refused to let fall. We were failing them. They were wasting away before our very eyes and we had no way to stop it.

The constant moving wasn't helping. We hadn't stayed anywhere longer than a day since our time at the school. We were stuck in a perpetual groundhog day that sucked just as bad as the movie. Every time we managed to find a suitable spot to rest for a few hours walkers forced us to vacate almost immediately. The dead were migrating, instinctually gathering together to form larger and larger herds that cut us off at every turn. We were desperate, and it was that desperation that put venturing back to the highway for supplies back on the table. If I learned anything in my life it was decisions born from desperation rarely worked without a fairly sizeable body count. However, I was the lone dissenting vote, and my fears alone were not enough to dissuade the frantic need to find anything to extend our existence another day.

"We can't," I implored Rick as Daryl shifted his weight beside me, biting his thumbnail in silent contemplation.

Rick sighed, glancing behind him at the group who were all waiting in the cars for his decision. I trusted Rick, trusted his ability to keep the group alive and normally when I didn't agree with his choices I handled it like a grown-up and talked about him behind his back. On this point I couldn't stay silent. This was a bad decision of an entirely different variety. Not only was it beyond dangerous, but Rick behavior of late was erratic at best so I was hesitant to believe he truly understood the ramifications should he make the wrong choice. The further Lori progressed in her pregnancy the more he deteriorated. His eyes held hints of madness that made me uncomfortable. Not because he scared me, but because I knew what it meant. I'd seen the same look in my own eyes and it never led anywhere good.

"There's nowhere else to go," he told me. "There's nothing left in the area and we need food, water."

"Then we push west, scavenge through the area." _Again_ , I added silently.

"We'd never make it through the herd."

I shook my head. "We don't know it turned that way. Let me go ahead. I'll see if it's even there and if it is try to find a way through."

"No." Daryl's declaration was severe and immediately, his first vocal contribution to the conversation aside from grunting. I sent him a withering glare that had zero effect if his raised eyebrows were any indication. "Ya ain't goin' off by yurself."

I thought Daryl was protective before we started swapping spit, but now it bordered on mania. It would be sweet if it wasn't so damn annoying and I was a completely different person. I knew his heart was in the right place and on some deep, dark, basement level of my own heart I understood it, but at times like these it only served to get under my skin. I didn't need protecting. A fact we debated almost nightly. He was relentless in his protection, unwilling to let me take even the slightest risk without very vocal objections. If he thought being overprotective would magically stop me from doing crazy shit he was delusional. I tried to be patient because that was what supportive girlfriends did and I knew he couldn't help it. His overprotective nature was engrained in his DNA just like his hillbilly twang, but sometimes (like now) I wanted to slap his DNA upside the head.

"Funny, I don't remember asking." He didn't take the bait, the jab too obvious, but I wasn't done yet. "Tell me _Dad_ , can stay out past ten tonight?"

That did the trick. He stopped biting his nail, turning to face me full on, stepping into my personal bubble, his hulking frame towering over me. I almost laughed. That worked on 99.9% of the population, but I was inoculated to this bullshit intimidation move. I eyed him, refusing to take a step back as Rick covered his face with his hand in exasperation. And he thought Nugget was going to be a handful.

"Feeling frisky Katniss?" I was only halfway kidding. Riled up Daryl was hot and if we were going to do this I may as well have something pretty to look at.

His eyes narrowed in warning. "Ya ain't going off half-cocked on some suicide mission, again."

"I never go anywhere half-cocked. I'm always fully cocked."

This little spat was an exercise in futility and a colossal waste of time, but it was the bottom of the ninth, the bases were loaded and I was staring down the barrel of a full count. My only hope was to get Daryl so worked up Rick had no choice but to devote all his time and energy into keeping him from blowing a gasket thus forgetting about the idiotic plan to double back to the highway.

Part one of the plan was going off without a hitch. Daryl raked his teeth over his bottom lip, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side in barely contained frustration. Hershel told me I was bad for his blood pressure, and right now, judging by the color of his face, I couldn't argue with him. All I needed was steam to start coming out of his ears and we would be in business.

The irate redneck shoved a finger in my face. "There's a tree stump in a Louisiana swamp with a higher IQ than ya got woman."

I frowned, looking passed him to Rick for help with the translation, but he looked ready to throttle us both. I sighed. Man, I missed Google Translate. Without the help of modern technology or someone fluent in redneck I was at the mercy of Redneck Dumbledore. I may not have a clue what he was saying, but I knew an insult when I heard one and just like Daryl's protectiveness was woven into his DNA so was my inability to let a slight pass unchallenged. I opened up my mouth to hurl back some combinations that would definitely get me a timeout with Lori, but Rick cut me off.

"Enough!" Both our heads snapped to him as we stepped away from each other. "We're going, that's it." All hail to the Rick-ta-tor-ship.

My head dropped in defeat. They just didn't understand, but then again, how could they? None of them were Soldiers. They still thought the worst thing walking the Earth was walkers. The real threat was never the dead. It was always the living even before the turn.

"Have you heard of Route Irish?" My eyes were locked on the ground, staring at a rock like it was the most interesting thing in the world. No one answered so I took a deep breath, adjusting my beanie. "It's not much of a route really, just over seven miles separating Baghdad Airport from the Green Zone. Doesn't sound bad when you think about it, but those seven miles were the most dangerous stretch of road in the world during the initial years of the war."

An onslaught of memories spilled into my mind as I took a deep, calming breath. If I wasn't careful they might bring me to my knees. Swallowing hard I continued.

"Charred, wrecked, and abandoned vehicles were scattered up and down the dirt road. Huge craters carved out by detonated IEDs made driving at reasonable speeds impossible. As if that wasn't bad enough you also had to contend with snipers and ambushes which were a guarantee anytime you set foot on that damn stretch of road. Sometimes it took hours to traverse the measly seven miles. We had weapons, armor, tanks, artillery, air support, trained Soldiers, and still we lost someone. Every – Single – Time."

I looked up, both men focused on me.

"The highway, that's our Route Irish. We will never come away unscathed, no matter what precautions we take. You need to be prepared for that. You think this is bad." I waved my hands around the barn we were standing in front of, dead walkers lying at our feet. "This is child's play. You're mistaken if you think going to the highway is taking us just to the edge of disaster. It isn't the edge. It's way beyond it."

I walked passed them to Daryl's bike, pulling my face shield up over my mouth and nose just below my eyes. I heard Daryl behind me and he gently tugged on my arm until I was facing him.

"It's gonna be a'right." For someone else the reassurance might help, but for me it rang hallow. I think he was trying to convince himself.

"Keep telling yourself that."

He looked disappointed in my response, but had enough sense not press the issue. Without further discussion he climbed on the bike and I followed suit as we brought up the rear of the convoy. The trip back to the highway was long and cold as I tried my best to keep warm as the freezing air bombarded me from every angle. I buried my head in-between Daryl's shoulder blades, plastering my front to his back, using his body like a shield as I called on every ounce of training and experience, trying to anticipate possible scenarios. The only good news in this shit-show was going back to Hell's Highway meant finding a jacket. If I couldn't find one there I wasn't finding one anywhere.

We tracked back to highway 85 via 154 just northeast of Newnan, and the closer we got the more anxious I became. I noticed a few stray walkers on the side of the road as we used the ramp to enter 85, but they were too few and far away to be a nuisance. It wasn't one or two walkers we needed to worry about, it was herds. Once we were on the highway Rick stopped the convoy and each of us pulled off to the side of the road, cars staged for a hasty exit. Everyone was on high alert, weapons out and ready as all eyes scanned the traffic pile up on both sides of the road. There were cars as far as the eye could see, some serving as coffins, others empty with the doors still open.

"Alright everyone, listen up," Rick told the group who instantly went quiet. "You know the drill, food, weapons, medicine, and clothes. Spread out, we need to do this as quickly, but let's be thorough. Stay alert and stay safe."

I stayed back as he continued to dole out specific instructions, but walked away when something caught my eye. I bent down, sliding my hand against the door of a car, my fingers tracing the multiple bullet holes. Glancing inside the car I saw blood spatter on the driver's seat, and a sizeable blood trail that suggested someone was drug out. Judging by the massive red stain only a few feet away they didn't get far. Standing up I looked up and down the highway, and felt a shudder travel from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair as I noticed several other prominent red stains on the road.

"What is it Alex?" Rick asked, walking up behind me. Pulling my face shield down I adjusted it around my neck, turning around and pointing at the car door I just inspected. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, his face slipping into "cop mode". "What do you think happened?"

Before I could answer Daryl spoke up, "Ambush." I nodded. "Found few more up and down the road."

"Some are fresher than others," I added. "This is a kill box and they're nearby. We need to hurry."

"There's a stream over there gonna see if I can get some fresh water," Daryl added as Rick nodded, leaving to check everyone's progress. "Ya a'right?"

I frowned at Daryl, "Is that a serious question?"

"We're here now, gotta make tha best of it."

"This is me making the best of it."

He paused, cocking his head to the side. "Needs work Red."

I snorted and he smirked, "Be careful."

"Always am." His face got serious as he took a step closer, adjusting my beanie. "I'll see ya again."

I inhaled sharply. The fact he felt the need to use our parting phrase when he was only going to find water did not instill me with confidence. He felt the danger here same as I did. He knew we were exposed, and it terrified me to let him out of my sight, but I knew he was capable and the faster we did this the faster we could leave. Plus, me going all cavewoman on him was slightly hypocritical.

"This side or the other," I told him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it hard. His eyes drifted down to my lips briefly before flicking back to my eyes as he swallowed, stepping back. Now was not the time or the place. Nowhere was ever the time or the place. It sucked.

I watched him until he vanished into the tree line then systematically started searching through cars. Most of what I found was useless crap. Why people felt the need to pack makeup, hair dryers and high heels was mystifying. I would gladly hand over our last can of beans if someone could explain to me how a flat iron would help at the end of the word, and if I found one more piece of lingerie I might scream. It was no wonder we were on the verge of extinction. The people who packed garter belts and thongs as the world collapsed around them were the reason they put directions on shampoo.

"Hey Aunt Alex, look what I found."

I turned around as Carl sprinted towards me, a bundle wrapped up in his arms. He skidded to a stop in front of me, practically throwing the clothing in my face as he bounced up-and-down. Unfolding it slowly I barked out a laugh. It was a black, long sleeved, leather jacket with a hood and a lining that could be removed when the weather warmed up. There were four exposed zippers on the front, two across the chest and two on the sides, and the intricate stitching was done in white thread that made the patterns stand out against the stark, black leather. The shoulders had ruching detail that wrapped around, continuing halfway down the back of the jacket.

"Isn't it awesome?" he asked, still bouncing around like a kid who forgot his ADHD meds.

"It's beyond awesome bud."

"It's a biker jacket."

I shook my head, "I know." Secretly I always wanted one, and now thanks to Carl I did.

"You and Daryl are gonna look so cool together on his bike."

I cracked up at that, although if I was being honest the kid was right. Between his angel wings, my new leather biker jacket we were halfway to forming our own Sons of Anarchy motorcycle gang. I pulled him in for a hug and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Thanks Carl, you're the best."

The sound of engines roaring down the road pulled us apart. There was a small convoy of trucks headed straight for us. I looked around quickly, finding Rick running towards us as I pulled Carl behind me.

"How many?" he asked, out of breath as he stopped at my side.

"I can't tell, but it's too late to run. They've at least seen Carl and me." I looked behind me and could see T, Glenn, and Maggie a few cars back, weapons held loosely at their sides, the action hidden from the approaching gang by the cars in the road as the three of them strategically spread out.

"Hershel, Lori, Beth, Carol?" I asked.

"Hidden, for now."

"How do you want to play it?" Rick's shoulders tensed, his hand hovering over his Python.

"Talk to them, see what they want, try to convince them to keep going. If they don't..." he trailed off.

I glanced at him and found him already looking at me. "Just gimme the signal."

He nodded grimly, his eyes finding Carl as he exhaled sharply. "Keep him safe."

"With my life."

Predictably the convoy stopped, three vehicles in total, and I felt my nails digging into my hand as I counted 10 men getting out. They were all filthy, clearly living out of their cars on the road, the evidence of malnutrition and starvation evident on their gaunt faces. It was easy to spot because I saw the same signs on everyone in our group.

I watched carefully as they fanned out across the highway, stalking forward, their eyes sweeping over everyone they could see. I could only hope the others were well hidden. We were outnumbered, but clearly had the weapon advantage from what I could see. A few men had small handguns strapped to their waist, but by enlarge they all had melee weapons, most homemade by the looks of them.

I took my time looking cataloguing useful information as I went. They weren't trained killers, of that I was sure. It was evident in their hesitant steps, their anxious expressions, and the nervous twitch of their hands. They lacked the experience to take out a group like ours, but that didn't mean they couldn't deal us a blow if they tried. All it took was one stray bullet.

Slowly I moved my arm, pushing Carl behind a car to my right, trying to get him as far behind cover as possible in the event Rick was unable to talk his way out of this. I was fairly certain he wouldn't. These men didn't look like they came for small talk. Once he was behind the trunk of the car I reached behind me, unsheathing one of my smaller throwing knives, handing it to him without taking my eyes off the approaching group. I felt his small hands wrap around the hilt, taking it from me. He had his pistol, but we didn't have an unlimited supply of bullets and reloading would take too much time, he needed a close combat weapon.

"Afternoon," Rick greeted the newcomers, his voice in direct conflict with his cheerful greeting.

Two of their group stopped a few feet away from him, but the rest hung back, forming a semi-circle that flanked our people from all sides. There were two directly to my right with two more ten feet behind them. They eyes locked on Rick, Carl and I. A single man was tucked behind one of their vehicles and looked scared as he constantly shifted around, pushing his glasses up his nose only to have them fall down again. Clearly he was the weak link in the group and his job was to make sure no one stole their vehicles and supplies. The other three were further to my left, one standing in the median between the north and southbound highway, and the last two staggered on the opposite side of the road. They had their eyes pinned on T, Glenn and Maggie.

"Same to ya," the man in front of Rick returned. "Trouble?"

"Nope." When Rick didn't elaborate the man raised his eyebrows and Rick added, "Just looking for supplies."

My eyes flicked to one of the men on my right as he slowly crept closer. I narrowed my eyes at him, pulling my weapon out of from my holster, the action hidden by the car in front of me. He grinned at me and I slowly reached forward, pulling back the slide of my PPQ and chamber a round. This wasn't going to go down quietly. I could tell by the lecherous look on their faces. They came for blood and "other things" and I'd die before I let that happen.

"Maybe we could help ya."

Rick shook his head, "I don't think so."

"Y'all seem to be doin' pretty well." His eyes traveled away from Rick, eyeing our group one-by-one like he was compiling an internal shopping list. I _so_ did not want to know what that consisted of. "Maybe we can work out a deal. You scratch our backs, we'll scratch yours."

I'd rather douse myself in honey and sacrifice myself to a bear than have that man scratch anything, and judging by Rick's reaction he felt the same.

"I think it's better if you just keep moving. We'll do the same."

"Ain't much of a way to make friends," he snarled, his patience wearing thin.

"That's because we aren't looking to make friends."

He laughed, "Well, we could use a friend or two." His eyes slide to me and he licked his lips. "'Specially someone like you darlin'." I just threw up in my mouth.

Rick's shoulders tensed. "Never gonna happen."

Amen brother.

The man shrugged, smiling as he ignored the clear threat in Rick's voice. "I get it, I get it. She's a fine piece of real estate. I wouldn't want to part with her neither. Maybe that brown haired bitch in the back then."

I was holding my weapon so tight I was surprised it didn't crumble to dust in my palm. Why did it always boil down to this? Degenerates were nothing new, but with no system in place to keep them in check they were running amuck, terrorizing people just trying to survive in what was left of the world. I felt my control slipping, my focus changing from defense to offense in a split second. I was going to end them for even thinking that. Extinguish each of their miserable lives one at a time so they couldn't hurt anyone ever again.

"Yur cute when yur mad darlin'," he smiled at me, blowing me kisses as he cupped his junk with a roaring laugh, his buddies joining in. Probably the most action they'd seen in weeks.

"You think this is cute asshole I'm about to be fucking gorgeous."

My threat was met with a collective rumble of laughter, but their blasé attitude wasn't fooling me. I saw the leader flick his fingers forward signaling to the men on his right. Before they could take a step I raised my PPQ, firing a shot at the man standing beside the leader. He dropped like a wet blanket, a bullet hole in his eye. Before the men could comprehend what was happening Rick fired, taking out the leader with a deafening shot from his Colt Python.

All at once the highway exploded into chaos, bullets firing from everywhere, windows shattering and the metallic ping of misses filled the air as bullets collided with cars. I saw Rick turn to his left, firing on the man hiding behind the cars as he fumbled with the keys to the trunk.

I heard T, Maggie and Glenn unloading a few dozen rounds behind me, but my focus was entirely on Carl. He moved around the car, firing at the one closest to him, but his adrenaline caused the shot to go wide, clipping the man's shoulder as he charged at the little boy. It didn't escape my notice the weapon at his waist was left untouched, clearly a prop, bullets harder to come by than food. Carl leaned out from behind the car and relative safety as he took aim again, but his hands were shaking so bad from fear he dropped his weapon. I screamed his name as I hastily killed another. My mouth went dry as I watched the man running full speed for him as he continued to fumble to recover his lost weapon. I raised my own, but couldn't get a clean shot from where I was standing and I wasn't willing to risk Carl's safety.

Holstering the weapon I dashed forward, ignoring the whiz of a bullet that missed me by an inch instead shattered a car window. I jumped up, sliding across the trunk of the car and landing on my feet in front of Carl just as the man slid to a stop. His eyes went wide with surprise as he swung at me, but I ducked under the sloppy punch, popping back up and instantly delivering a hard kick to his midsection with my knee. He doubled over with a pain filled grunt, his head now at waist height. I leapt forward, locking my left leg around his neck as I braced my left hand on his shoulder. With my leg wedged around his neck firmly I tucked my heel under his armpit, pushing against his shoulder to gain the leverage I needed to hoist myself on his shoulders.

Before he could process what was happening I had both legs firmly around his neck, my ankles crossed tight behind his back, cutting off his air supply as his hands pulled against my thighs in an effort to breathe. His eyes were wide, face turning red as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. Throwing my weight behind me I arched my back, reaching for the ground with both arms, my legs still firmly locked around his neck. He stumbled, unable to maintain his balance under the momentum carrying us both down. As my hands hit the road he tumbled forward, my knees slamming into the concrete as he flipped head-over-foot, rolling a few times before stopping on his back. I quickly sprang up, drawing my weapon and firing at his head point blank, his head bursting like overripe fruit.

Looking around frantically I saw the other's firing as they darted in-between cars, taking out the gang one well aimed shot at a time. They were all alive and seemingly unharmed, for now. The flash of an arrow caught my attention as one of the men advancing unseen on Glenn went down, and I smiled. They only had a ghost of a chance to take us and that was without Daryl. Now that he was here they might as well shoot themselves and end it quickly. He would be terminating these assholes with extreme prejudice.

Don't start no shit, won't be no shit.

A scream pierced my ears and spun around just in time to see a man snag Carl, throwing him over his shoulder as he and two others raced into the nearby woods. Rage the likes of which I'd rarely experienced flooded my body as my I took off after them. They were slow, out of shape, and unprepared for the terrain. I saw Carl struggling as the man fought to keep him secure on his shoulder, the boy wiggling and squirming until he managed to slide down his front. My careful constructed control smashed into a thousand pieces when he slapped him hard across the face in an effort to subdue him, throwing his now still body back over his shoulder. My vision went fuzzy around the edges, like a camera focusing on one object at the expense of all others. All I could see were the three men just a few feet ahead of me and the little boy I swore to protect with my life.

Carl's hand reached behind him as he bounced on the man's shoulder, feigning compliance, and I grinned, good boy. After a few seconds of searching he was able to locate the handle of the knife I gave him, pulling it from his belt. I pushed myself harder, gaining on them just as he swung the blade forward wildly, slicing into the man's back and side. He hollered, dropping Carl instantly as he fell to his knees, clutching his body as blood poured out.

The two men with him faltered, unsure whether to help their "friend", try for the boy or save their own ass. It really didn't matter what they chose. They would never touch Carl again and they were both dead men. I would make sure of that. In the end, they decided to stay, their last stand I guess. I stopped in front of them as I helped Carl up, checking him quickly for any injuries which thankfully, other than being scared half to death, there were none.

"You still have the knife?" He shook his head yes, eyes wide. "Go back to the highway. I'll be right behind you."

He didn't want to, I could see that plainly, but he did it nonetheless. It wasn't that I feared for his safety, these men would never touch him again. I didn't want him to see what was about to happen. I didn't want him to see _me_ like this.

As he ran off I turned around. They were standing protectively in front of the wounded man who was bleeding out behind them. My eyes scanned each of them from head to toe as I let my hands fall to my side. Neither of them had guns which was bad for them, but the fact made me practically giddy with anticipation. I had no intention of wasting bullet on these asswipes so this wouldn't be quick, and it certainly wouldn't be painless. They were going to suffer, and I was going to be the one to inflict it.

The thought made me pause, not because of the men, they earned their fate, but because of what it meant. To do what I had to be done I would need to unleash the hell locked inside me and that meant breaking a promise. I inhaled slowly, closing my eyes as I wrestled with indecision. Weighing the promise to my sister against the threat these men posed to my family. Images rushed through my mind, the man grabbing Carl, the bullet that buzzed Rick's head dangerously close, Glenn shielding Maggie with his own body as gunfire rained down on them.

I promised my sister I'd never again unleash the violence I was capable of, but I made that promise in a different world. At the time I wanted nothing more than to forget that part of myself existed, and there was no reason to believe I couldn't do it. I wanted to live a normal life free from death and pain, but my life had never been about what I wanted. Not when I was a child, not when I was an adult, and certainly not now. My promise to my sister wasn't one I could keep, not anymore, and I desperately hoped she would understand.

' _Forgive me Haley'_ I thought as I opened my eyes.

Surrendering to the beast inside me was easy, the walls crumbling like they were never there. An odd sense of familiarity I'd long forgotten swept over me. This was something I knew, and it was a relief not having to maintain such stringent control. The effort to subdue what I was capable of was a daily battle that required enormous amounts of energy. Letting go, being the person I had been made into was like inhaling a drug I both craved and despised. I knew I was tossing my sobriety chip out the window right now, but not one part of me cared.

My lips thinned, my eyes narrowing to slits as I watched the men with a wicked smirk. Their eyes went wide as they took a collective step back in unison. I could practically smell their fear. Funny how people considered themselves badass right up until the rubber met the road. They thought because they terrorized a few vulnerable survivors they understood malice, but they were getting a peak behind the curtain. The wickedness they thought they knew barely touched the surface of what I could unleash.

When they saw me on the highway all they'd seen was a woman they could use for their own nefarious purposes. These men didn't scavenge for supplies, they looked for women for no other reason than to satisfy their most basic urges, whether the women wanted it or not. It made me sick. They made a critical error in judgment when they categorized me as helpless and weak simply because I didn't have a dick. They believed I depended on my group for survival.

Fools.

I wasn't like the other woman they came across in their rampage across this disease ridden world. I wasn't with my group as a means of survival. I **_was_** my group's means of survival. They didn't offer me protection. I provided it. I was unlike anyone they had ever encountered and I was about to show them why. My name might mean 'Defender of Man', but right now I was the harbinger of death. I could easily end them with three precise shots, but that would be too good for them.

"We didn't mean any harm," one of them said, his voice shaking in fear.

I didn't answer. The time for words had long since passed. The noise of the woods faded to the background until only a dull buzzing pounded in my ears. I saw no color in the normal too bright world, only hues of gray tinged by muted blacks. It was a focus instilled in me through years of unparalleled training and perilous experience. To become the thing men feared most you had to let your humanity go. Turn off all emotions. See nothing but the mission.

I stalked forward, only one of the men brave enough to move forward with me, his eyes hard as he watched me. He was taller than me by a few inches and outweighed me by at least 90 pounds, but he was unsure of himself. The nervous tic in his jaw a dead giveaway he doubted his ability to defend himself. My guess was he'd probably gotten into his fair share of bar room brawls which was enough to keep him alive, until now. He settled into a fighting stance. His meaty fists placed incorrectly, leaving his midsection and left side completely exposed. I was almost tempted to stop and give him a few pointers just to make it interesting.

Almost.

He started to forward, cocking his hand back and telegraphing his intent. It was the equivalent of waving a red flag at a bull and I lunged, grabbing his wrist at a pressure point and wrenching it violently to the left. He yelped in pain, his body moving in the direction of his wrist in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. It wouldn't help. Swinging my body down sideways I extended my right arm until it came into contact with the ground, my left still firmly holding his wrist as I scissor kicked both my legs up and around his neck.

Lifting my hand off the ground I wrapped it around his right leg, bending around him like a pretzel, pulling my legs back towards the ground as fast as I could. He heaved forward, rolling end-over-end as I landed on my back, sitting up and quickly pinning the arm he extended in an effort to break his fall. Keeping my legs firmly around his neck I pulled on his arm as it quivered under the strain of bones stretching to their breaking point. I could easily snap them with just a touch more pressure, but I stopped short, feeling the tremble of his body as his body shook due to pain. I kept him firmly pinned, his moans of agony falling on deaf ears as I reached to my waist and slide out a knife.

I quickly withdrew my legs from around his neck, plunging the knife in and twisting it hard directly in his carotid artery before yanking it out and standing up. He sputtered at my feet, his mouth filling with blood as it bubbled out and ran down his face like an overflowing bathtub. He pressed his hands against the wound trying in vain to stem the flow. I glanced down at him impassively as his panicked eyes locked on me, his hands stained in blood. He'd be dead within a minute.

I felt nothing watching him die, his cloudy eyes a sure sign the end was near. My eyes left his, the scent of death already reaching my nose as I stepped over him. His companion who initially stayed to protect his wounded friend lost his gumption. He wasn't even looking at me. His horror filled gaze locked on the dying man behind me. Eventually his self-preservation mechanism kicked in as he pivoted on his heel, running into the woods leaving his wounded friend behind.

So much for loyalty.

Pulling out another knife I held the blade in my hand, breathing slowly as I took aim at the fleeing figure. I threw the knife, the blade sinking into his calf. The blade was no throwing knife, the long, sharp metal sinking deep into his leg as the tip protruded through the front of the appendage. He cried out, stumbling to the ground. Anguished sounds of pain spilled out of his mouth as he gripped his leg, his eyes bouncing between me and his shish kebabed leg. He eyed the knife with trepidation, knowing it was his only means of protection, but his hands shook when his fingers wrapped around the hilt. I slowed my pace, giving him the time he needed to pull it out, but could tell by the sweat beading on his forehead he'd never find the courage. He licked his lips, stealing his body for the inevitable pain to follow, but even that small motion caused him to scream.

"Please...please, don't," he begged. "I don't know them. I mean, I wasn't with them long. I don't want to die."

His plea's meant nothing. The part of myself that registered compassion or mercy was long gone. Leaning over him I pulled the knife out of his calf slowly, his screams making my face scrunch up in disgust as I watched his face pale. He was crying now, his pleas for clemency turning to prayers of forgiveness. There was no god here, only me, and I wasn't listening. Unable to stand a second more of his pathetic wailing my arm snapped out, slamming the knife into the soft spot at his temple. His last breath came out in a puff, arms falling limp at his side as his eyes slide closed. Again, I felt nothing as I cocked my head to the side examining the dead man.

The sound of leaves crunching made me look over my shoulder as I crouched over the dead man. I saw the last man, the one Carl injured, attempting to drag himself away. There was a trail of blood left in his wake as he pulled his heavy body forward, his fingernails digging into the soil. Leaving my knife embedded in the man's skull I stood, taking my time walking to him. He heard me coming and rolled onto his back, sweat covering his face as what little blood was left in his body pumped out of the gaping wound. He didn't need help dying, the wound Carl delivered fatal, but he was going to get it all the same.

"Who are you?" he asked, his body shaking more from blood loss than fear.

"You shouldn't have taken the boy."

If he had any chance at all of walking away from this, which was a long shot at best, it was eradicated the second his filthy hands touched Carl. Everything after that moment was purely academic.

His fight or flight instincts kicked in, weak as they may be, and he turned over on his stomach resuming his fruitless effort to crawl away. I squatted down over the top of him, pulling out another knife, pushing his head into the ground and exposing the sensitive flesh at the base of his skull. He screamed, begged, pleaded, but he attacked the wrong group if he was looking for those things. Mercy didn't live here. That bitch was on vacay, permanently.

The sounds of his despair sickened me. I didn't want to hear it, couldn't stand a second more of his weakness. I wanted this done. I wanted them all dead. In one swift motion I plunged my knife into the base of his skull. The knife slide in easily, like a hot knife through butter. His body jerked violently once before he stilled. I wanted to feel relief, vindication now that they were all dead, but there was nothing. I felt just as dead on the inside as the men whose blood I spilled.

I heard a faint moan followed closely by a mechanical whirl, a thump and then the moaning ceased. I jumped up from my squat, a knife in my hand as I twisted around to face the threat I somehow overlooked, my muscles so tense it felt like they might snap. My breathing was coming in short, fast pants as I analyzed the large, muscular man standing in front of me with a weapon in his hands that was very much _not_ a prop.

He looked at me strange as his lips moved, but I heard nothing over the blood rushing in my ears. There was concern etched on his strikingly handsome face, but I shoved that thought away. A thought like that was a distraction and distraction got you killed. He took a tentative step forward and a growl rumbled in the back of my throat as I raised my knife, my right foot sliding behind my left as I braced for his attack. He stopped instantly, his frown so deep, so hauntingly familiar, I had the insane notion to tell him to be careful or his face might freeze like that which was confusing. You didn't joke around with people trying to kill you, and this man was here to kill me. He wasn't like the others. His body was built for destruction. His muscles not cultivated in a gym for the sole purpose of attention. He was capable and deadly.

His lips moved again with words I didn't understand. I cracked my neck, flipping the knife in my hand as I looked for a weakness, a point of attack and his eyes flashed in surprise. He froze, licking his lips as he exhaled sharply, watching me carefully but he came no closer. My mind may have been playing tricks on me, but I swore he looked uneasy. Obviously he wasn't going to make the classic mistake of underestimating me, but I wished he would. He was bigger than me both in height and weight. He was a survivor, a fighter, and he wouldn't be as easily dispatched as the other three. He also still had a loaded crossbow. I calculated less than a five percent chance of drawing my PPQ and getting off a shot before I ended up with an arrow in an undesirable location. I was fast, but I wasn't Neo and this wasn't the matrix. If he fired the crossbow, especially at this distance, I'd be dead before I hit the ground. A sane person would surrender given the circumstances, but I didn't back down. There was no surrender. If I was going to die I was going to die fighting. My body tensed as I readied myself for the inevitable, hoping it would be quick, but what he did shocked the hell out of me.

He dropped the crossbow.

It hit the ground with a clunk and I could only frown as I stared at it. Of all the possibilities I considered this wasn't one of them. What game was he playing? The sight of the crossbow lying on the frozen ground tickled something in the back of my mind. It wasn't every day you came across someone toting a crossbow, even in the apocalypse. My eyes snapped back to the man as he said something, his voice registering on some level even if his words still sounded foreign. He held his hands high in the air, palms out, the classic gesture of surrender. I squeezed my eyes shut, a headache pounding so hard inside my skull it felt like my brain might liquefy. I heard his footsteps as he stepped forward and my eyes snapped open, glaring at him in warning.

"Red, it's me."

That voice. That name. I knew them. The distinct drawl of his speech was hauntingly familiar. The inflection of his words penetrated the haze clouding my mind as everything snapped back into focus with dizzying speed. It felt like the ground shifted, everything changing so quickly my stomach rolled and I felt like I might pass out. The world was spinning too fast. My feet unsteady under me. The woods that only moments ago were devoid of color were now an array of hues so vivid I squinted in an effort to lessen the intensity. The cocoon of silence I was swathed in only moments ago replaced by sounds so loud I swore they were being blasted through a bullhorn.

"Alex." He didn't move. I wasn't sure he was even breathing. He just watched me, waiting.

"Daryl?"

He nodded, hands still raised, body frozen in front of me as he continued to follow my lead. He wasn't sure how to handle me right now and I couldn't blame him. I wasn't sure either, but as the details of where I was and what I had done came back to me horror instantly replaced confusion.

My eyes darted around, taking in the dead bodies and I squeezed my eyes shut praying that when I opened them again the scene would somehow be different. Daryl stepped forward, but I put a hand up stopping him. As I opened my eyes all I could see were my blood stained hands shaking in front of me. Stained with the blood of the men I brutally killed.

"Alex," he tried again.

I shook my head, backing away from him slowly. I was terrified. Terrified I might hurt him. Terrified of what he was seeing. Terrified of what that meant. I hadn't just killed these men. I executed them. I was the judge, jury and executioner all wrapped into one. What's worse, I felt absolutely nothing while doing it. Hell, I hardly remembered the details, but I knew enough to know I felt no remorse, no repulsion, nothing. Turning around I stumbled away, my legs wobbling, my coordination failing me spectacularly. I didn't get far before I collapsed against a tree, my hands covering my face.

"No, no, no..."

I just kept repeating the words over-and-over like it would somehow change my reality. I was so conflicted it felt like my body was being pulled apart. I didn't know how to feel. I knew how I _should_ feel, but no matter how hard I searched for those feelings I couldn't find them. Those men threatened my family, took Carl, and they deserved death. I hadn't felt one nanosecond of hesitation when I snuffed out their lives. Then again that was never my problem. I didn't have an issue turning off my emotional filter. The problem was always the aftermath. Those quiet moments when the fine details seeped through the cracks in my walls and bombarded me, making me feel every inch the monster.

It was a self-defense mechanism on my part or so I was told. There was no way to inflict such violence and maintain a shred of humanity. Monsters had no room for humanity. Most people believed monsters were reserved for scared children afraid of what lurked under their beds, but I knew different. Monsters were real. I learned that lesson from my father long before I ever became one myself. The absolutely petrifying part was they looked just like people.

I heard noise beside me, but didn't remove my hands from my face. I knew it was Daryl. My body recognized him. He didn't say anything, simply settled next to me against the tree, the only sound between us my ragged breathing. I almost laughed. This was just like the beginning when he would hunt me down after I freaked out and bailed. Of course he never found me covered in blood after committing mass murder, but other than that small detail it was exactly the same.

I knew he wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't push. Somehow he knew exactly what I needed even when I didn't. Everyone underestimated him because he was quiet and careful with his words, but he knew more than he said. He thought more than he spoke, and noticed so much more than anyone realized. It made my eyes fill with tears. All this time he was worried he was no good for me, but it had always been me who was lacking. Deep down I knew this day would come. My day of reckoning was never something I could escape, but faced with putting a voice to it I found myself speechless.

How did you explain the unexplainable?

How did you ask forgiveness for the unforgivable?

I let my hands drop, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead. There was no walking away from this like nothing happened, and if I had any chance of getting through this I couldn't look at him.

"In the military you're given a military occupation specialty code, or MOS, you know how they like their acronyms. You take a test when you join trying to fit what you're already good at with the needs of the Army. It's like a puzzle. I didn't know what I expected my results to be, nothing amazing that's for sure. I'd never been particularly great at anything, but when my results came back they were or at least I thought so at the time."

My breathing slowed, but every time I glanced at my red stained hands I felt panic rising inside me. Looking away I took another deep breath, pushing forward. I could feel Daryl's eyes on me, but didn't move a muscle.

"I lied to you in the beginning. I told you I was military intelligence, but there was more to it than that. My specialty was human intelligence which is exactly what you're imagining. I was trained to interrogate, collect information, read people, gain assets, manipulate them for our purpose, and I was good at it. I remember being proud of that. It seems stupid now, but I had never been good at anything that wasn't illegal so I took pride in what I did. I believed I was helping my country, making a difference."

My lies in the beginning were true at one point in my life, but hadn't been for years. I was so desperate to be someone else I completely skipped over my life after the Army. It was stupid to believe I would be able to hide it from them forever, but if they knew who they were welcoming into their group they would have killed me when I came bursting out of the woods onto Hershel's farm. They would have been right to do so. What I was capable of was dangerous. I was dangerous. You can't hide from the things you've done. At some point the bill always comes due.

"I was deployed to Iraq three times in five years. When I left the first time my grandparent's were there to see me off. They looked so proud. I was proud too. Thought I was doing an honorable thing for once in my life, but war isn't anything you can prepare for and is nothing like you imagine. There is no glory. No hero's. Only pain."

Daryl shifted next to me, and I wondered if this it was as hard to listen to as it was to admit.

"My grandfather died halfway through my first tour, a heart attack. He held on for a few days in a hospital connected to tubes and machines that breathed for him, made his heart beat, and he would have hated every second of it. My sister told me and I left on emergency leave immediately, but I didn't make it back in time. I never got the chance to say goodbye."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"When I came home at the end of that tour I told my grandmother it was my fault he died. My grandfather was a veteran. He'd tasted the bitterness of war. When he found out my unit was deploying I remember how his shoulders sagged and his eyes got this far away look in them. I wasn't ready for what I was going to face, but he knew all too well the storm headed my way. He stressed about it. I could hear it in his voice when I called home, could feel the worry dripping off the pages of the letters he wrote me. I think it was the stress that killed him."

I never told him any details, never told anyone, but he knew all the same. Our wars were separated by decades, but war never really changes. One side tried to kill the other, some people died while others lived, but no one ever really won. There was no winning in war, only surviving. He worried how it would change me. Every Soldier leaves a piece of themselves behind when they go to war, some more than others.

"My grandmother waved it off, said I was thinking a little too highly of myself. She was good at that. Making you believe things even when you knew the truth. They were married for over 50 years, and then suddenly he was gone and she was alone. She tried to hide her sadness from us, but I saw it. I was a master at hiding, especially sadness, so I could spot it in her a mile away."

Every day she got up and carried on like it was a normal day, but her smile never reached her eyes. Her laugh was forced, and I heard her crying through the incredibly thin walls of the home they shared for half a century. She was suffering and there was nothing I could do. When my parents died they took us in without a second thought, and when she needed me most I hadn't been there.

"The last time I saw her was right before my second deployment. She was worried about me, but not like you think. Most families were scared shitless they'd get a call their loved one was dead, but not my grandmother. Instead, she worried I was losing a part of myself. I thought it was ridiculous and told her as much. I had bullets and bombs to worry about and here she was having an existential crisis over my soul. Who gave a crap about my soul if I got blown up by an IED?"

The fear she felt was never her own. It was my grandfathers. I wouldn't understand it until years later. He was never worried I **_wouldn't_** come home. He was scared I **_would_**.

"I tried to tell her, to make her understand, the things I'd seen, done...you didn't live through that and stay the same person. It just wasn't possible. If she looked at me and saw a different person it was because I _was_ a different person. She nodded her head sadly, eyes remembering a different time, another person as she told me to remember who I was."

"A _lex, I'll never understand the price you've paid for our freedom." Her eyes watered and I shifted uncomfortably. "Your grandfather paid the same price, and it wasn't until many years after he came home that he truly returned to me."_

" _MamMaw..."_

 _She cut me off, "Just let an old woman say her peace dear." She pinned me with a look even as an adult I was incapable of withstanding. "Do you know who you are? Do you remember the little girl I raised?"_

 _"Y _es."__ _That was a lie. The person she remembered was harder and harder to recollect. Like when you wake up from a dream and remember everything in vivid detail only to lose it all seconds later._

" _Hold onto that person, especially when things are at their worst. You can come back from this Alex. I know you can. Never let what you have to do dictate who you are."_

 _She pulled me into a hug, the last one we would ever share and whispered to me, "I'll see you again."_

" _This side or the other."_

I could practically feel Daryl's need to comfort me pulsating off of him, but he held back. I was thankful for that. I didn't think I could stomach him touching me right now. I didn't deserve comfort, content to simmer in my own self-loathing.

"She died two months later, passed away in her sleep, no pain, and I was thankful for that. Technically she suffered a stroke, or so the doctors would tell us later, but that's not what killed her. She died of a broken heart. I never believed in love until I saw my grandparent's together. Even through the naïve eyes of a child I knew what they had was special."

I also knew it was something I would probably never experience. You didn't grow up with a father who hated you and expect to find love from a stranger. Parents were supposed to be hard wired to love their kids no matter what, even when everyone else thought they were assholes. I was pretty sure it was a rule, some kind of genetic compulsion, but mine hadn't. Somehow I knew I would never find something so precious. I leaned my head against the tree, draping my arms over my knees, exhaustion pulling at me.

"By my third tour I was numb, drifting through the war in a haze of bad decisions compounded by stupid risks. I was reckless, insubordinate and unpredictable. Basically everything you don't want in a Soldier, but I got results so my methods were tolerated, for a time. Before they could discharge me for being batshit crazy my abilities caught the attention of a _different_ group of people."

Different. That was one way to put it.

"They offered me an opportunity to transform my grief into something useful. I was so desperate to be something other than what I was I accepted without hesitation. I should have read the fine print."

Closing my eyes I sighed.

"Over the course of a year and a half they transformed me, body and mind. Where others saw my impulsiveness and unpredictability as a liability they saw it as potential. My grandmother saw it too, had warned me to tread carefully, but without her guidance I was lost. They used years of pent up anger to fuel me, to carve out a person who was lethal and merciless. When they were done I saw the world in a different light."

Looking back on it now they were an awful lot like Hydra minus the cheesy snake logo, brainwashing by electrocution, and a smokin' hot, WWII Super Soldiers with a cybernetic arm. That would have been better. At least there were hot guys in Hydra.

"The things we do so that others may live," I whispered to myself with a dejected sigh. "I want to blame them for what I became, but the reality is they didn't change me. The person I became was always there. It's why they chose me. They didn't have to teach me how to be a monster they only had to show me how to unleash it."

And boy did I unleash it. Indiscriminately, mercilessly, and without a shred of leniency.

"What changed?" His voice was barely audible, but I jumped, startled. I forgot he was sitting beside me. His voice was free from accusation, and it should have made me feel better, but it only made me feel worse. I didn't deserve that kind of understanding.

"My sister," I answered. "I came home for a few days to visit her and when she saw me..." I swallowed hard, my lips pressed together as I blinked rapidly, trying to erase the memory of her horrified face. "She was scared of me. I hadn't done anything, said anything, I was just standing there smiling and she froze. She eyed me like a predator and when she...backed away...I piece of me died. She was all I had left and she wanted nothing to do with me. She told me I wasn't her sister anymore."

I was crying now, and Daryl's hand reached for mine. I tried to pull away, embarrassed and ashamed, but he held tight, interlacing our fingers, and for the first time since I started talking I looked at him. His eyes were soft and patient. He wasn't trying to justify or accuse, show pity or cast judgement. He was just _there_.

"I couldn't do it anymore after that. I tried, oh my god did I try, but I couldn't. I asked for an out and they said no, thought all I needed was time and distance. I was taken out of the field and put back into reprogramming. The harder they pushed the harder I resisted and I knew if I didn't leave I'd never be done with that life. They invested a lot of time and money in me so walking away wasn't really an option. Needless to say they didn't take my two weeks' notice very well."

"What'd ya do?" What did I do? Easy question with a complicated answer.

I took a hard look at myself. It's a strange sensation when the person staring back at you in the mirror was a stranger, but even if I didn't recognize myself I could see the permanent damage that had been done. There was no ignoring the stains on my soul I'd never be able to erase. I couldn't stand the sight of them, couldn't stand to look at myself, so I did the bravest thing I'd ever done.

"I ran. It was kind of poetic. They taught me how to disappear, to be someone else, to blend into the background. I could vanish like David-fucking-Copperfield if I wanted to. They just never considered someone using their methods against them. They may have forgotten the first lesson they ever taught me, but I never did. Always have an exit strategy."

"When ya said ya were in Atlanta when the turn happened," he trailed off, already filling in the blanks.

"Yeah, I was there to see her, to say goodbye. I had to run, but I couldn't do it with Haley. Even if I could have convinced her to give up her life, her job, her friends, she wasn't cut out for that life. She would never make it and I couldn't do that to her. Truth was she was better off without me. I went to Atlanta to tell her I was done, to let her know I was keeping my promise and then I was going to disappear, but then the outbreak happened and everything changed."

Be careful what you wish for my grandmother always said. I wanted an escape from the life I chose I just wasn't specific enough in my wish. I wanted a way to disappear, to leave my life behind, and the dead walking gave it to me. Funny how a little perspective can change everything. We sat in silence, his hand wrapped in mine as I grew more and more uncomfortable. This would change everything. I knew that. I would have to leave the group, leave my family.

I couldn't imagine a scenario where they would feel comfortable with me in their midst knowing what I was capable of, what I used to be, what I clearly still was. I knew without even asking Daryl would never divulge anything he heard or saw here without my direct consent, but hiding this part of myself didn't seem like an option anymore. I had to tell them. They deserved the truth. The thought made me want to puke so I instantly back peddled. Maybe I needed to start small. I'd tell Rick. I could do that, maybe. Aim small, miss small.

I'd be lucky if I didn't end up with a .38 caliber bullet in my forehead before I finished my sentence. Hell, I deserved worse than that. Swiping my tears away I pulled my hand out of Daryl's and stood up, his movements copying mine. He looked nervous, but somehow I knew it wasn't because of what I _could_ do, but what I _might_ do now that I'd opened Pandora's Box.

On autopilot I walked around collecting my discarded knives, keeping my eyes carefully diverted from the men I killed. Ignorance was bliss, but it didn't mean you could build a house there. Some truths you couldn't escape. My throat constricted as I approached the last man, and I couldn't hold back the tears as I braced my foot against his head, pulling hard to dislodge the knife.

"Red," Daryl said. I didn't turn around as I cleaned off the knife and deposited it into the sheath at my waist. I dreaded leaving the group, but the thought of leaving Daryl made it hard to breathe. It felt like a fate worse than death.

"I'll talk to Rick, be gone by morning."

I didn't have the courage to see the look in his eyes now. Daryl's number one priority was always protecting the group, and I was the biggest threat they had ever faced. I knew I had to go and could live with that. What I didn't think I'd survive was his rejection, seeing the same look on his face I'd seen on my sisters.

His large hand grabbed a hold of my arm, turning me around so quickly it made me dizzy. "Ya ain't goin' nowhere."

I frowned, "Daryl, be realistic. Rick isn't..."

"Yur a part of this group. Ain't nothin' changed."

"That was before this." I motioned to the dead men. He just shook his head, his stance on the matter clear. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but no one will feel comfortable around me now." That was putting it mildly.

"Do ya ever stop arguing?"

"I'm not arguing. I'm explaining why I'm right and you're wrong."

He rolled his eyes, stepping closer. "Ya ain't as sneaky as ya think Red?"

"What are you talking about?" I was as sneaky as they came.

"I knew ya was hidin' somethin' from yur past. Always knew there was more to ya." My mouth opened and closed a few times as I sputtered, eyes wide.

"But...how?" I was careful or at least I thought I was. Sure, I killed walkers and more than a few people when I had to, but not like this. I made sure to hide my very special skill set around the group, and other than my minor freak out when I thought a dead walker was my sister I hadn't zoned out and murdered anyone. Good thing I had sleep deprivation to blame that on.

Daryl laughed, "I may be slow, but I ain't stupid." My mouth opened to rebuff his comment, but he held his hand up, stopping me. "Nah, ya had yur turn." My faced scrunched up in distaste, but I had to admit, bossy Daryl was almost as hot as riled up Daryl. Before that train could even leave the station he shook his head at me. "Stop."

"Well, contain your hotness then. I can't be held responsible for my actions when you stand there looking all..." I didn't have a word to describe it so I just waved my hand up and down his body. It wasn't my fault. He should come with a warning label or something.

"What ya told me, it's yur business. I won't say nothin' and if ya tell the others fine. If ya don't fine, but ya ain't leavin'." It was cute he thought he could stop me. "But if ya think they don't know yur stupid." I snorted and he ignored me. "Merle was in the military, Marine Corps. Punched out some guys teeth and that was that." I was slightly disappointed I never met Merle. He seemed like a hoot. "I knew the first time I saw ya fightin' ya didn't learn none of that in the military. Merle's a good fighter, got better after the Corps, but what ya can do...ain't never seen nothin' like it."

I looked away from him. I both hated and loved that he could see right through me. Hiding was tedious business, but living with your true nature was sometimes worse. In the end I didn't see how it changed much. Daryl might be OK with me being a stone cold killer, but I highly doubted anyone else would be. Besides, not everyone had a drug dealing brother who was a dishonorably discharged Marine as a measuring stick.

As if reading my thoughts he added, "Rick knows."

"Bullshit." Now he was just pissing me off.

"He don't know specifics, but he was a cop, and he can tell yur different. He never said nothin' 'cause it don't matter. Yur part of this group and that ain't changin'." Idiots, both of them. "Ya said choice was all ya had left." He reached out, cupping the side of my face as I leaned into his touch. "What ya can do, it ain't who ya are. The choices ya make are what matter, and everythin' ya done was to protect the group."

I licked my lips as my eyes watered. How did he do this to me? He was like a Redneck Yoda.

"Ya ain't goin' nowhere Red," he declared, leaning in closer. "Can't run from me."

His thumb trailed a line across my bottom lip before he leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, my tears mixing with our kiss, my ability to hold my shit together blown apart by his words. It felt like Daryl was picking up my broken pieces, one at a time, and fitting them back together until I was whole. It made me feel like I stood a chance at salvation, a chance at redemption. When I was with him I felt like I was enough for the first time in my life. He pushed his way into my heart, setting my soul on fire in a raging inferno I could never ever hope to contain. It felt a lot like love.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling back, his eyes boring into mine. I swallowed hard, nodding as he took my hand and starting walking back towards the highway, back towards the group, our family.

My legs were unsteady, but Daryl's hand was not as he guided me like my own personal North Star. His faith in me shinning like a beacon. I'd always hated the darkness within me, afraid of it, of what I could do, but walking hand-in-hand with him I realized sometimes you needed darkness to truly see the light.

* * *

 **This chapter is a beast! I hope no one minds the length. There didn't seem like a good place to stop it without it being choppy and I think what is happening is super important going forward.**

 **What do you guys think about her background? I'm desperate to hear from you guys after this one :)**

 **Thanks to everyone for the get well soon messages. I do feel better. I'm out of bed for the first time in 5 days so that's something. Although, I only walked to the kitchen before needing to sit down so... The twins were better in 2 days and here I am like 10 days later still feeling like someone hit me with a car. Typical.**


	18. Johnny and June

**Johnny and June**

"These tracks are fresh. We should follow them," I said, crouching down, tracing the outline of the paw print.

The ground was covered in a thin layer of frost, but the tracks weren't filled with any snow which had been falling steadily since this morning. It was the first fresh tracks we'd seen in a month, and we desperately needed food. Fresh meat would do wonders for the health and morale of the group. We were starving. Our canned goods all but exhausted and scavenging had yielded less than ideal results as of late.

"What is it?" Rick hollered back, walking over with Daryl in tow.

I scowled at him. "Do I look like Bear Grylls? Is this an episode of Naked and Afraid? Who cares what it is? It's a tracks and they're fresh." Hunger did different things to different people. For me it turned me into a raging, hungry, bitch more so than usual. Daryl and Rick raised their eyebrows as I stood up, scrubbing my face with my hands in agitation. "Sorry."

Rick eyed me as Daryl knelt down to examine the paw prints. My eyes flicked away from his as I bit my lip. Things between us were back to normal since I came clean about my past for the most part.

After I calmed down and washed off as much blood as possible Daryl led me back to the highway and our group which was anxiously awaiting our return. I tried to ignore the way my stomach bottomed out every time I thought about my murder spree. The second I set foot on the highway Lori engulfed me in a sobbing hug, thanking me for saving her son with Rick right behind her, tears shimmering in his eyes. Their gratitude made me want to vomit and a voice in my head reminded me, _'you're not worthy'_. They had no idea the manner in which I saved Carl, and I was too chicken to tell them, too scared of what they might do once they found out. I kept my lips sealed shut like someone had super glued them, accepting joyous pats on the back and smiles while the dread swam in my system. I knew I wasn't ready to tell the group, but Rick needed to know. He deserved to know. After everything he'd done for me it was the least I could do. Nothing said thank you like admitting you'd been lying for a year.

That night, with Daryl by my side, I guiding him far enough away from the group so we wouldn't be overheard. It took about three minutes of squirming and fidgeting before I finally worked up the nerve to give him the PG version of my "story". When I finished he didn't say anything. He hardly moved. The longer he was still and silent the more nervous I became, and my eyes flicked to Daryl as he shifted noticeably closer to me, his body ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. It almost made me laugh. Despite what he witnessed today, and everything I told him he still felt the instinctual (irrational) need to protect me.

" _So you were some kind of..." I kept my face carefully blank as Rick searched for the right word to describe my sketchy past. "Hitman?"_

 _I tried not to flinch at the description. I wasn't sure if it was his choice of words or the accusation in his tone, but it hurt more than any physical blow I received today. The really crappy part was I didn't have a leg to stand on when it came to his verb selection. Sure, it was an abridged description, but for the sake of ending the conversation as quickly as possible I nodded. Did the details really matter I highly doubted it would change his opinion if I told him I only killed people 80% of the time, and the rest was intelligence gathering, hostage rescue, counterterrorism and enemy infiltration. Once someone heard the word hitman everything else kinda faded to the background. I could be BFF's with Mother Teresa and it wouldn't make a difference at this point._

 _He looked to Daryl who was quiet beside me, arms crossed over his chest, face hard. He was so still it was just freaky. He was like a redneck statue of hotness. I didn't know what Rick was expecting from the man, but whatever it was he didn't find it as his eyes swiveled back to me._

" _So when you said you were military?"_

" _I was for a time, but I got out about five years ago."_

" _And you did what exactly?"_

 _It took every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to groan. At the rate we were going we would still be having this conversation when the sun rose. Daryl told me Rick knew there was more to my past, but whatever he was imaging didn't hold a candle to the real thing. This would be my third time "explaining" it to him and he looked no closer to comprehension. I should know. I sported the same look in high school calculus while I tried to figure out how shapes and letters equated to math._

" _I was part of a black operations unit run by the CIA."_

 _Rick's face went slack, again, as he asked, "And they trained you in...?"_

" _Asymmetric warfare," I supplied. When his face scrunched up I amended my answer, "Killing people."_

 _For whatever reason this time around the information clicked. The instant it did his fingers curled around the handle of his Colt Python and something inside of me crumbled, but I chastised myself for the slip. His reaction was normal, justified. Hell, it was somewhat tame considering he had yet to draw the cannon he called a gun and kill me. I was willing to forgive the transgression, but Daryl was not. He immediately took a step in front of me, his arms unfurling at his sides. Somehow his massive chest looked even bigger, he looked bigger, as a low growl rumbled in his chest, eyes narrowing in warning at his friend._

 _So much for bros before hoes._

 _The angry snarl of the livid hillbilly acting as my own personal human shield was enough to halt the homicidal thoughts rolling around in Rick's head. He dropped his hand to his side, eyes wide with shame he had no right to feel._

" _Alex, I'm..."_

" _It's fine," I cut him off with an absent minded wave of my hand. It wasn't, but I certainly couldn't blame him._

 _Rick coughed uncomfortably. "Well, I don't, I mean..."_

" _If you want me to leave I understand." I shifted from behind Daryl, needing this to be over, one way or the other._

" _No way," Daryl snarled, not turning to look at me. I rolled my eyes. As much as I appreciated his support I didn't think keeping me around so we could make out was reason enough for the rest of the group._

" _Daryl, please," I said in exasperation. "If he thinks..."_

" _No," Rick interrupted me, "You're not going anywhere."_

 _I couldn't have been more shocked if a walker strolled up and started tap dancing. Daryl's shoulders relaxed marginally, but his body was still so tense I if I poked him he would probably crumble to dust. Ironic because out of the three of us I was the last one who needed protecting, but if it helped him sleep better stress away._

" _I, uh, appreciate that," I stuttered, "I know this isn't an easy decision."_

 _Rick licked his lips, eyes darting to Daryl for a beat. "You're wrong. It is. You're part of this group...you're family. Nothing changes that."_

As our conversation concluded that night I didn't have the nerve to ask Rick to keep my secret or make any promises about coming clean with the others. I knew those were promises I might not (would not) be able to keep, but Rick was honorable to a fault so he kept my dirty little secret to himself. It should have made me feel better, but the guilt ate away at me daily as I tried to work up the courage to tell someone else, anyone else, but every day the words stuck in my throat like Maggie's horrendous cooking. I was a coward, I knew that, but I wasn't strong enough to own up to my shit.

Each night as sleep eluded me I imagined telling them. Daryl took the news in stride so his reaction was not to be trusted. As always he was the outlier throwing off the class average. Rick was a perfect example of what I could expect. He tried his best to accept my admission, to maintain indifference about the knowledge I could kill someone with a paperclip, but even he failed. In the days and weeks that followed our "talk" he was different around me. It was subconscious on his part and while he wasn't even aware of the change I sure was. There was no missing how his eyes followed me everywhere I went. No mistaking the way his jaw clenched when I was near Carl, and I'd have to be blind to miss the way his hand hovered close to his weapon anytime I broke the atmosphere near Lori.

I accepted it all without comment, took the pain because I earned it. There was no going back, only forward, so I did my best to keep a careful distance while he adjusted. It was nothing I hadn't experienced before so falling back on old routines was second nature. The one glaring difference this time around being no matter how far I retreated I was never truly alone. Daryl was always by my side, both figuratively and literally. When I sat a few feet away from everyone at dinner he made a point of plopping down directly beside me, filling the space in a silent show of support no one understood but me. Anytime I attempted to venture off on my own for water, food or supplies he either accompanied me or suggested a partner. The message was clear. He was with me. I was a part of this group. I was family. He was on a personal mission to make sure everyone else got the memo even if they weren't sure why.

If anyone noticed the subtle change in Rick and my relationship they didn't voice it. They most likely chalked it up to his erratic behavior and unpredictable mood swings brought on by the strained relationship with his wife. Lori's ever expanding waistline helped push me _way_ down on the priority ladder. Having your spouse carrying another man's child paled in comparison to being the female equivalent of John Wick. As winter crept by with the speed of a grandma on a Hoveround Rick's behavior could only be categorized as unstable. Some days he was lucid and rationale while others the group would sooner volunteer to let OJ Simpson show them his knife collection than talk to him. It took a few weeks, but eventually he relaxed around me. He stopped tracking my movements like I was stock on the Dow Jones. Apparently he felt comfortable I wasn't going to pull a Kill Bill Volume. 1 on everyone. Plus, there wasn't enough time in the day to devote to hating your wife and worrying about a knife wielding, gun toting, former assassin.

"Coyotes." Daryl's deep voice snapped me out of my musings. He stood up and walked forward a few steps following the perfectly preserved trail. "It's a small pack, headed out that-a-way."

He pointed further into the woods, and we both turned to Rick. It was a risk sending us out. Not only were we the group's best means of protection, but the weather was straight up ' _holy crap I can't feel my face_ ' cold.

"If we go now we could make it back by night," I added.

We also needed to be luckier than a dog with two dicks. The weather was unpredictable at best. When it wasn't snowing, which was bad enough, it was raining which then turned to ice due to the freezing overnight temperatures, and that sucked more. It was so cold my nipples could literally cut glass, and per our norm we'd had no luck finding somewhere to permanently hunker down. If Rick sanctioned this hunt there was a very real possibility we'd come back and find the group gone.

"I don't like it, but we're out of options," Rick huffed. "Get what you need and head out. I'll update the map."

Rick was obsessive about providing fallback locations every time anyone ventured out. Being separated could mean stranding someone indefinitely resulting in death or worse. He once tried to give me the same map when I went Lone Ranger to save Daryl when he fell ill, but I refused. The map was no longer optional, and I was good with that. I didn't know what I was thinking when I turned him down the first time. Temporary insanity brought on by a certain redneck's imminent demise I suppose.

Half an hour later Daryl and I were headed into the woods, following the coyote tracks in hopes of securing the substantial source of protein our group badly needed. I trailed behind the hunter, keeping my eyes alert for threats while his stayed glued to the trail. I studiously tried to ignore how cold it was, the feeling in my extremities having long since faded to a stinging sensation. It felt like I was being pelted with a thousand needles all at once. I really hoped there wasn't a trail of snot frozen on my face, but since I hadn't been able to feel my face for a month I wasn't inspired with confidence.

Daryl abruptly stopped, squatting down as he carefully examined the tracks. I was a decent hunter and a better than average tracker , but Daryl was like Rain Man. Looking at the tracks I saw no discernible difference between any of them, but evidently he did and I would defer to his inexplicable expertise in this particular subject matter. When he stood back up he glanced at me holding up two fingers then pointing to the left, pausing a beat before holding up one finger and pointing the opposite direction. I nodded, moving to the right, my rifle tucked against my shoulder as Daryl stalked off to the left. The pack separated at the bank of a small river that spanned either direction far as the eye could see.

The frozen landscape made sneaking up on anything difficult with each step causing a cringe worthy crunching sound in the otherwise silent forest. Wincing with every step I scanned my surroundings constantly for the pack, but before I found anything the tracks abruptly stopped. Groaning I looked right and left, turning in a circle searching for any sign of where they went, but found nothing which left only one plausible explanation. They crossed the river. Blowing out a harsh breath I eyed the frigid water with distaste. It was so cold the banks were partially frozen over in a layer of ice. There was absolutely no way I was chasing anything, food or otherwise, across that river. There could be a Golden Corral on the other side and I still wouldn't so much as dip a toe in. With a resigned sigh I turned around, making my way back, hoping Daryl would have better luck.

I froze mid-step as I heard sounds in the distance. I could identify the distinct crunching of ice, but that wasn't what had my heart pounding. It was the sheer amount of ice cracking that had me running before I even realized it, my breath coming out in fast, white puffs. Rounding a bend in the river I gasped, horrified.

Two walkers lay dead at Daryl's feet as another four circled him, snarling as they reached for him with decaying arms. He slashed wide with the knife in his hand attempting to hold them off. Not wasting a second I raised my rifle, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The walker closest to him dropped and I promptly found another target and fired. My third shot shattered the skull of another walker just as Daryl slashed upward with his knife, embedding the blade in the final walker's skull with tremendous force.

My pulse was racing, my relief palpable as I watched him yank the knife out of the dead walker at his feet. I was so absorbed in the fact he was OK I never heard the walker advancing on me. A guttural moan made me spin sideways as I tried too late to raise my rifle, but it was too close and I was too slow. Its bony hand shot out, knocking the rifle from my frozen fingers with ease. I gulped, bracing my hands against its shoulders in an effort to keep it back. I tried not to gag when the flesh slide off its shoulder bones coating my hands in a black sludge. Digging my heels in I tried to stop the creatures advance, but its momentum and strength were too much to overcome. It slammed into me with enough force to propel us both backwards in an uncontrolled fall directly into the river.

When my back hit the frigid water it was such a shock to my system what little air I had in my lungs escaped in a hiss. The weight of the walker carried me directly to the riverbed, the feeling of sharp, river rocks digging into my back a testament to the severity of my current situation. My hands fumbled to keep the walker at bay as its now wet flesh seemed to evaporate into the water making the previously crystal clear liquid murky with goo. My hands slipped around his skeleton struggling for purchase as I tried to avoid snapping teeth and deadly claws in the process. My lungs burned with the need to breathe. Walkers might not need air, but I certainly did and I needed it sooner rather than later. I had knives strapped to various parts of my body, but with no way to reach them without releasing the walker they did me no good. Not to mention my body was so cold I wouldn't be able to wield one with any accuracy.

Panic filled me as I convulsed, my body's need for oxygen sending automatic responses to my brain I couldn't override. I watched in morbid fascination as the last of my precious air supply floated to the surface in a stream of tiny bubbles. My mouth opened, river water pouring in as I choked, my arms instinctively releasing the walker to cover my mouth like it could somehow stop me from drowning. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the excruciating pain of a bite any moment, but suddenly the walker stopped its struggle. My eyes opened only to see an arrowhead protruding from its shattered forehead. A hand reached into the water, grabbing the creature by its tattered clothing and tossing it aside. Planting my hands and feet on the rocky riverbed I sprung up, gasping for air the moment my head broke the surface.

The water wasn't deep, only waist high, but the current was surprisingly strong. Combine with my body's startling lack of motor control it made moving difficult. My brain told my body to take a step towards the bank, but all I managed to do was fall on all fours, ice cold water rushing into my mouth as I sputtered and coughed. I tried to stand again, but the slippery river bottom sent me tumbling back underneath the water carrying me further downstream. Giving up on walking I tried to crawl, anything to get out of the water that was killing me, but my equilibrium at the moment was about as useful as my ability to translate redneck. A pair of strong arms grabbed a hold of me, hauling me out of the water and onto the ground with one strong pull. Collapsing on the ground I coughed, spitting out water as I lay on my side, my body so cold it felt like I was actually on fire. Daryl pushed on my shoulders, rolling me onto my back, his worried eyes inspecting me head to toe for bites, but I think we both knew that wasn't the real issue. I was soaking wet. Shivering so violently I had the potential to break bones and we were miles from shelter.

"Red..." It could have been my frozen brain playing tricks on me, but I swear I heard his voice shake as his lips compressed into a hard line.

"I kk-nno-www." I couldn't stop shaking. I could barely form words, my body struggling in vain to find a way to warm itself. "Wwwe nn-eee-dd to mmm-ove."

His eyes were anxious, face grim as he nodded swiftly, pulling me to my feet only to have me pitch sideways. He wrapped an arm around my waist keeping me upright as I continue to shake so violently he had a hard time keeping me upright. My brain barely registered the fact he was unzipping my sodden leather jacket, tossing it to the ground. It was a testament to how cold I was that removing my best protective layer of clothing didn't faze me. In one quick movement he had his horse blanket off, pulling it over my head and settling the thick, scratchy fabric over my shoulders. It was huge on me, hanging to almost my mid-thigh.

"Kkk-eeep y-your h-h-horse bla-anket."

His jaw was tight with tension, as he grabbed my frozen hands, rubbing them in his own. My fingertips were a disturbing shade of blue, and I knew they weren't the only thing. I already tried pushing on my cuticles, checking my capillary refill which only confirmed what I already knew. I was hypothermic.

"It's a poncho."

Despite our precarious circumstances I couldn't help but attempt a smile at his familiar retort which was most likely why he said it, but my lips were quivering so hard I couldn't hold it. Under normal circumstances I would tell him it most certainly was _not_ a poncho. It was a horse blanket that he cut a hole in. You didn't get to cut holes in things and call them ponchos. It was like doing paint-by-number and calling it the Mona Lisa.

When I tried giving the horse blanket back he stopped me, his face leaving no room for negotiation and I scowled or I tried to. He was clad in only his vest and a thin, long sleeved shirt that would do little to nothing in terms of protecting him from the elements. I was already supremely fucked. The horse blanket wasn't going to make much difference unless I got out of the rest of my waterlogged clothes and found a way to warm up, immediately. However, he did stand a chance, but without his horse blanket his odds plummeted drastically.

He grabbed the horse blanket from my frozen fingers, pulling it down with a firm tug that clearly meant leave it alone. I conceded mainly because I didn't have the dexterity to argue. His eyes scanned the woods frantically, trying to work our problem. I was glad someone's brain was functioning because mine was suffering from frostbite. I couldn't think about anything except the debilitating cold. The blistering burn of the subzero temperature on my skin gave me a new appreciate for Joan of Arc. How much longer until my body was numb? I hoped not long because I couldn't take much more of this. I had passed shock, collected my $200, and was rapidly advancing towards a dirt nap.

While I stood there freezing to death Daryl came to a decision. He bent over, scooping up my rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he tugged me against his side. He started back in the direction we came, dragging me with him, but something to the right caught my eye. A pile of brown and gray fur was lying a few feet away. Two dead coyotes. I raised my shaking hand, pointing towards the animals. Daryl wasted no time poo pooing that idea with a swift shake of his head, continuing on.

"D-d-dar-ryl."

"No," he barked, keeping his arm securely locked around me.

"P-p-pl-l-lease."

"I can't carry them and you."

"I k-k-kn-now." That stopped him in his tracks. His eyes sharp as he looked at me. I saw the desperation he was trying to hide. He was begging me not to make him choose, but we needed the meat. It wasn't his choice. It was mine. "T-ta-a-ke t-t-the-e-m."

"No."

"H-hav-ve t-to."

He grabbed my face, his freezing hands feeling warm against my icy skin. I hated the haunted look in his eyes, knowing I was the one to put it there, but the needs of the many far outweighed the few. What I hated more than anything was what that look meant. I knew a close call when I saw one and I knew a lost cause. Sometimes there was no escape. My brain may be working slower than normal, but it was still working so I knew how this would play out. Even if he picked me up and managed to run the entire way back I would never survive the trip. We were too far away and I was too far gone. Falling into that water was a death sentence. Squeezing my eyes shut I tried to make peace with the thought.

I was going to die. Worse, I was going to reanimate. My shoulders hunched, my head collided with his chest as his arms encircled me, his hands rubbing my back. I could handle dying, but I couldn't handle becoming one of those things. I didn't want that.

"Y-you c-c-cant l-let m-m-me com-me b-back." I loathed to ask this of him, but needed to know he'd do it. Needed to know he would grant my final request no matter how hard it would be.

"Stop."

"D-d-dary-yl..."

He ended my stuttering protest by leaning forward, brushing his lips against mine as my eyes fluttered closed, the frost on my eyelashes making them heavy. I didn't feel anything as he kissed me, the sensation in my body long since gone, and I wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. This would be the last time he held me. The last time I kissed him and I couldn't feel a thing. Shaking in his arms I tried to memorize everything about him ignoring the burn of regret that had nothing to do with the cold. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I hadn't been brave enough. Now it appeared I would be denied the opportunity. That hurt more than slowly freezing to death. Dying had never fazed me. It was a miracle I survived my childhood and in my previous line of work it was expected, but the thought of never seeing Daryl again had me weeping. He pulled away, keeping me pressed against his body.

"Ain't lettin' ya go, ya hear me?" He brushed a tender kiss across my lips. "Yur gonna make it."

I nodded, not believing it for a second, but knowing it was what he needed. I wouldn't make it half a mile before I collapsed, but I could still save the others so I decided to make him a deal. My life wasn't more important than the food that would save nine other lives, my family, and that was a price I would pay a million times over.

"O-onl-ly if y-you t-t-take the c-c-coyot-t-tes."

I knew I wouldn't make it no matter what I did, but for him I would try. If he agreed to take the animals I'd walk until I died, which would probably only be a few minutes. A fiery determination replaced the look of hopelessness as he nodded, swiftly kneeling down, tying up the coyotes and hoisting them over his shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked, back at my side.

I didn't answer, just took a shaky step forward and then another. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't feel much of anything except pain, but that meant I was still alive so I clung to it. I focused on taking one step then another, our pace unbearably slow. He stayed close, ready to catch me, but it was clear I was holding him back as I stumbled and fell every few feet. He probably could have made the trip twice already if he left me. I tripped again, his hand shooting out to stop my fall before hoisting me back up. A voice in my mind screamed at me to suck it up and keep moving even though all I wanted to do was lie down and sleep. I didn't quit. It wasn't in my nature, and I would never do that to Daryl, but mental conviction only carried the human body so far. Everyone had their limits and I could see the finish line for mine. My breathing was labored and painful, my vision fading to pinholes.

We could have walked 100 miles or one, I couldn't tell. I had no concept of distance or time. The only thing I knew for certain was I couldn't go much further. I was doing little more than shuffling my feet at this point. Daryl had long since abandoned any pretense of letting me walk alone instead opting to stay at my side with one arm around my waist. Finally my uncooperative body got the better of me as my foot caught an exposed root sending me crashing to the ground, my arms too slow to reach out and break my fall, my momentum too fast for Daryl to react. The impact barely registered when I hit the ground, my face lying on the ice as my eyes closed. I heard Daryl curse, but my addled mind didn't know why. This wasn't so bad, much better than walking. I'd go so far as to say it was comfy. I was tired, so incredibly exhausted the only thing I cared about was sleep. My body finally stopped shivering and I knew that was a very bad thing. Good thing the only thing currently on my agenda was a nap.

"Alex!" Someone shouted, shaking me violently as I was rolled onto my back. I felt hands pushing my frozen hair out of my face, but couldn't open my eyes. "Stay awake ya hear me! Open yur eyes!" Why was he screaming? It was rude to yell when someone was trying to sleep.

My brain was sluggish and confused. I was unable to process even the simplest thoughts, but at least the painful pins and needles shooting through every nerve ending was gone. That was good. I felt something press against my throat just under my jaw then heard another impressive round of cursing. If I could feel my arms I would high five him. That was top notch stuff, but Lori was gonna be so mad. That little tantrum would cost at least a can of beans, probably jerky if he kept at it. That woman's tolls were steep. I heard a thump next to me and then I felt weightless as something slide underneath my back and legs. My head lulled to the side, colliding with a brick wall.

"Ow." Was that me talking? It didn't sound like me. It sounded like some drunk chic. Maybe there was someone else here. I decided not to dwell on it, too much effort.

"Alex?" I knew that voice, even when it sounded uncharacteristically frantic. It was my favorite voice in the whole, wide world. Straining, I opened my eyes, my unfocused gaze coming face-to-face with a scared shitless Daryl.

"Hiya...sailor." I laughed, the exaggerated pauses between the words hilarious to me.

My body was being jostled and it took me a minute, or 12, to realize I was being carried while he jogged or sprinted if you wanted to get technical. Big plops of liquid were hitting my face on a regular basis which was annoying. I turned my head left then the right, but no matter what I did they kept pelting me. I felt them on my face, my arms, my body.

"Are you crying?"

Daryl stumbled, glancing down at me in confusion. "What?"

"Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink," I sing-songed with a slur, then promptly cracked up as I tried to swat the droplets I couldn't see, especially with my eyes closed.

"It's rainin'," he explained. I grunted. I was more confused than a chameleon hunting through a bag full of Skittles.

"You're…not…sad…I'm…dying."

My lips struggled to form the words, the sentence taking forever to finish. I'd long since given up trying to move, abandoned any hope of dodging the freezing rain, my head resting against Daryl's brick wall chest, arms limp at my sides. This was why people shouldn't go outside in temperatures that were below their age. Nothing good ever happened.

"Ya ain't dying." He sounded furious and nervous which was an odd combination only he could pull off, but it wasn't very nice. You should always be nice to people who were dying. There was a rule about that.

"Feels like it," I admitted and his arms curled around me, pulling me tighter against his body. "Do you like me Legolas?"

He was so caught off guard by my question he almost dropped me, righting his hold at the last second and shifting me back securely in his arms. I bet he was tired of carrying me. I would be if I was carrying him. He was huge. Thinking about trying to carry him sent me into another fit of hysterical giggles. When I finally calmed down I realized he hadn't answered my question so I took this to mean he wanted me to keep talking.

"I like you. You should know that before I die."

He ignored my deathbed confession completely. "Stop sayin' yur dying. I ain't lettin' that happen."

I appreciated him giving it the old college try, but I knew what I felt, and it felt like I was dying. I should know. This wasn't my first time. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. My chest rising and falling in slower intervals every minute that passed.

"We're more than friends...but less than a couple." The thought made me sad with remorse. "I wish we had been more, a lot more, cause I like you better than ABC's and 123's." That was a bold statement. I loved me some ABC's and 123's.

"Stop it Red!" he barked at me, shaking me in his arms, my head rolling around despite my best effort to stop it. My connection to reality was rapidly slipping through my fingers. "There's a huntin' cabin up ahead. I'm gonna get ya inside and warm. Yur gonna be fine."

"Like...where I am...now," I admitted with a yawn, burrowing into him. He was so warm and smelled so good. If I was going to die I wanted it to be like this, in his arms.

"Keep yur eyes open!"

"Shhh."

"Don't shush me woman! Open yur damn eyes!" Nope. "Goddamnit Red!" Not gonna happen bossy pants.

Breathing hurt so I decided I didn't want to do it anymore and that helped some, but my relief was short lived as Daryl shook me again, screaming so loud I swear he ruptured my eardrums. I was forced to start breathing again just so I could tell him to go to hell. Before I drifted off to La-La-Land where I could hopefully stop breathing in peace I felt myself being lowered to the ground, the loss of Daryl's body heat making me whimper.

I couldn't move so I didn't even try, but I felt him tug me into a sitting position, my head colliding with my chest as he supported me, pulling the horse blanket off. He cursed as I fell to the side barely catching me before my forehead smacked against the floor. Righting my body he tugged and pulled on my soaked, long sleeved undershirt as he cursed the garment. It took some serious effort, and more impressive cursing, before he was able to peel the stuck fabric off my body, laying me down gently once he was done. I felt my boots being pulled off and the two non-frozen brain cells in my otherwise out-of-order mind stood at attention.

Daryl was stripping me naked. Daryl was stripping me naked and I wasn't lucid enough to enjoy it. This was so typical.

The last thing my conscious mind registered was Daryl whispering a barely audible "sorry" as he brushed a light kiss against my forehead. I faded off to the feel of him tugging and pulling on something at my waist. I didn't know what it was and I didn't care so long as I got to keep sleeping. When he was finally done I felt a heavy weight on top of me and I exhaled deeply, finally allowing the darkness to take me.

My dreams were chaotic, filled with memories long forgotten and more recent ones only a few months old. I awakened with a jolt, blinking rapidly as I returned to the land of the living. What happened? Where was I? How long was I out? So many questions and no answers. The time slippage was disorienting as I looked around the room searching for any clues to my whereabouts. The darkness outside the windows told me day had long since passed into night so there was one question answered. I groaned as I shifted my body, the aches and pains I felt nothing compared to the stifling heat. Sweat dripped down my face, burning my eyes, but it was nothing compared to the radiating heat at my back suffocating me.

I was on the floor, a heavy quilt tucked around me so tight I was the human equivalent of a burrito. I squinted against the blaring light in front of me. After a few minutes my eyes finally adjusted and I realized it was a roaring fire. Well, that was something new. My lips were dry, my throat raw as I tried to sit up, but an arm instantly tightened around my waist, pulling me against an impossibly warm body that was molded to mine from behind.

What in the actual fuck was happening? I'd had more lucid nights in Vegas and those involved bachelorette parties, a metric shit-ton of liquor, singing Elvis', and male strippers.

Glancing over my shoulder the first thing I saw was the top of Daryl's disheveled hair, his face tucked against my neck as he snored softly. Well, that explained why it felt like I was jazzercising on the surface of the sun. The man's body heat alone could singlehandedly power a town. That wasn't the really interesting part though because it was right about then it registered I was naked.

I pulled the quilt back, peering underneath the bulky cover just to confirm. Yep, definitely in my birthday suit. Daryl shifted slightly behind me and that was when the party really got going. Apparently I wasn't the only one naked under this baby maker. My stomach clenched in excitement as I reviewed the facts.

I was naked on the floor with no memory as to how I got here.

Daryl was also naked on the floor.

My body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.

All I needed was a signing Elvis and this would be just like Vegas.

This was so unfair. Here I was living out my single greatest fantasy and I couldn't remember anything. I was literally experiencing page 72 of Carol's porn book and had no memories tucked away to tell my grandkids when I was 90 years-old. Sometimes life just sucked the fun out of everything.

The longer I was awake the quicker the fog in my mind cleared. Small details swam back into focus in living color. I remembered hunting, the walkers attacking Daryl, falling into the creek, and then nothing. Everything after my impromptu swim was a big, fat blank. Although considering we were wrapped around each other like a pretzel butt ass naked it wasn't hard to fill in the blanks.

I knew the moment Daryl woke up. His breathing changed and he tensed behind me. He leaned away from me slightly, but didn't get far with his tree trunk of an arm wrapped around my waist. Well, this had the potential to go sideways six ways from Sunday. He literally lost all his shit the first time I stuck my tongue in his was he going to do now? Relocate to another planet?

The smart money said nothing good so I briefly considered pretending to still be asleep, but realized that was a temporary solution to a permanent problem. Unless I planned on pulling a Sleeping Beauty for the rest of my life I had to wake up eventually. Because there were no words that could make this less awkward I stayed completely silent. I was going to let him take the lead and given what I knew about Daryl we might be here a while.

"Red." His voice was raspy from sleep, but I heard the discomfort clear as day.

"Hey Neytiri."

I was going for casual, but fell somewhat short as my voice shook. Maybe I could blame it on my near death experience and not his hot, sweaty, very naked body pressed against mine like we were posing for the cover of an erotica novel. He pulled on my waist and I rolled over, the upper half of his body leaning over me, eyes pinched in concern.

"Ya a'right?"

That was a hard question to answer at the moment. Medically speaking I was fairly certain I wasn't going to die in the next few minutes. Physically was an entirely different animal. My body was on fire for an entirely different reason now. I swallowed hard, nodding at him and he relaxed. It lasted a half-second until he too finally realized our no-no (or yes-yes) spots were dangerously close. His eyes widened as they swept down my body, the blanket I was previously been swaddled in now bunched around my waist and his mouth fell open. He snapped his eyes back to mine and pushed away from me.

"M'sorry," he mumbled, eyes diverted as he scrambled backwards. "I didn't..."

"Daryl."

"Nothin' happened..."

"Daryl."

"I wouldn't..."

"Daryl!"

"I had to..."

Clearly words weren't going to do the trick so I reached out, grabbing onto his hand and pulling him towards me. Unprepared for such a move he pitched forward, his body falling on top of mine, elbows braced on either side of my head as I lay on my back. He opened his mouth, probably to spout more nonsense, so I kissed him to shut him up. Grabbing the back of his head I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as his body sank down. I moaned into his mouth and his tongue darted out, twisting with mine as his hand skimmed my ribcage making me shiver. I wrapped a leg around his waist and he growled our hands everywhere on each other's bodies. We explored each other in ways we never had before, and it was the single greatest moment in my life, but as quickly as it began it ended when he jerked away sharply. I sputtered, my eyes popping open in confusion as he sat back, breathing hard.

"What's wrong?"

He ran a hand through his hair, his dark blonde locks sticking out in every direction as he continued his retreat away from me, snagging another blanket I hadn't seen and covering himself. I didn't bother with such frivolity. This was clearly going end in a disagreement and the key to any successful relationship was to argue naked.

"We can't," he said without further explanation, eyes looking everywhere but me. He must think this cabin was pretty damn fascinating the way he was scrutinizing it.

I needed to use kid gloves to navigate this which was going to be extremely hard considering I could barely concentrate when he wore clothes. Daryl _without_ clothes was liable to short-circuit my still fragile brain. Mentally I repeated over-and-over he was extremely insecure about intimacy. I couldn't push him, but I did want to understand.

Was he pulling away because he didn't feel the same? His massive erection would say otherwise, but men didn't necessarily need to _feel_ anything for a woman to achieve such a state. Naked women equaled erection, pretty straightforward equation. I wish calculus was as easy to navigate.

Was he uncomfortable with the notion of sex in general? It took us months to kiss and then weeks to do it again. We'd been "something more than friends" for a while now, but never in all that time had he attempted to take it further, despite my best efforts. I could forget putting a label on it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes shot to mine, eyebrows furrowed. "No." I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Thanks for the clarification. Super helpful.

"OK,do you not...like me like that?" I felt like such an idiot. It was like we were in high school. I should write a note and have him circle 'yes' or 'no'.

"Ya almost died."

I narrowed my eyes at him. While that was true it had nothing to do with what we were currently talking about and he still hadn't answered my question. Also, I was perpetually in a state of "almost dying" so if we took that into consideration he would never get around to doing squat thrusts in my cucumber patch, and that was simply unacceptable. I moved towards him and he leaned back in equal measure so I was forced to stop. If he moved any further he was likely to end up in the fireplace.

"I'm fine," I told him. Truth, I was better than fine or at least I was until he stomped on the brakes.

"Ya should rest. We can't leave until morning, storm's too bad."

He moved to stand, keeping a death grip on the blanket around his waist, and I knew if I let him leave it would be a mistake. Our relationship, whatever it was or wasn't, was at a tipping point and I needed to know which way we were going to fall. For better or worse we were doing this now.

I moved forward as quickly as my sore, tired, not-so-long-ago frostbitten body would allow, stopping in front of him on my knees. This was the single greatest risk I had ever taken and that was a bold statement considering I once jumped out of an airplane without a parachute. I was putting myself out there, literally baring my body and soul. Softly I laid my hands on his chest feeling his heart pounding beneath my palm, his ragged breathing filling the otherwise silent cabin.

"If you don't want this, don't want me, I understand," I said evenly, keeping my eyes on him. "If this doesn't go past friendship I'll gladly take it. Remember, anything but silence. It's me and you."

His hands curled around my wrists, a pained expression I didn't understand on his beautiful face. I held my breath waiting for rejection in the form of friendship, but silently hoping for something else, something more.

"I ain't never done this," he admitted, and my face scrunched up in confusion. Never done what? Been naked with a woman who hours before was doing an impression of a human popsicle? Understandable, but it still lacked the answer I desperately craved. It suddenly occurred to me he might mean sex in general and my eyes widened in shock, understanding flooding my face, my mouth opening and closing as I struggled with what to say. As usual he read me like a book. "Not that."

"Not what?"

"I've had..." he trailed off embarrassed, the tips of his ears red. It was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

"Sex," I finished for him.

My Sex Ed teacher in middle school once told us if you couldn't say they word you definitely weren't ready for the act. She never met Daryl Dixon. Never in a million years would he feel comfortable talking about this stuff. He barely felt comfortable talking about what we were having for dinner.

He glared at me and I shrugged, sinking back on my heels as I held his face in my hands. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm trying to understand." He looked away, his hands tracing a line up and down my bare arms that did nothing to help my concentration. What were we talking about? Better question, why were we talking at all?

"Ain't never had sex with anyone I..."

"Care about?" He looked at me, self-consciousness written all over him, but nodded. "I care about you too."

He smirked, "I know." What? How the hell did he know that?

He looked like he wanted to laugh and I had the distinct feeling I was missing out on the joke. Something danced in my memory, just out of grasp. It was more of a feeling than a memory. A feeling I made a fool of myself at some point during the rather large gap in my memory bank. I opened my mouth to ask what I did, but he moved so fast he stole my breath away as well as my ability to speak. One second I was kneeling in front of him and the next I was on my back, his large body over mine, his blue eyes so dark they looked black. I could wait to find out the punch line.

He pressed his lips to mine, any lingering traces of doubt or hesitancy from him long gone. He was like a maned starved, his lips desperate as he devoured me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, one hand skimming down his back and he pulled back immediately, but not before I felt the scars. I knew they were there. I'd inadvertently seen them a few times while we'd been on the road, privacy being a luxury we were no longer afforded. In a split second his demeanor shifted as he systematically shut himself down and retreated.

"Hey," I whispered, drawing his eyes back to me. "You don't have to tell me anything. We don't have to talk about it. It's just me and you, nothing else matters."

He looked torn, his mind demanding protection while his heart screamed to give in. "They ain't pretty."

"We all have scars Daryl. Some are just more visible than others."

It was one of the many things we had in common, even before we knew it. The train ride to Hell wasn't a crowded one, and it wasn't difficult to spot someone on the same ride. The signs were all there. We were two people covered in scars, inside and out, our abuse the defining moment of our lives. But I knew something Daryl had yet to realize. He was a warrior. A survivor. He made it through the darkest part of night and he deserved to bathe in the sunlight. It was time he forgave his younger self for being unable to fight against the man who should have loved him above all others. It was time to start again.

"Why?" he muttered, his voice breaking.

One word. So simple and yet it held so many different meanings. The complexity of the one syllable word rivaling the intricacies buried deep inside both of us. I could spend the rest of my life trying to answer his question and still come up short. So instead I settled on the simplest, most heartfelt explanation at my disposal.

"Because from the very beginning it's been you," I confessed. His eyes softened at my admission. "We're Johnny and June."

A booming laugh filled the cabin that nearly made my heart burst. "Johnny and June, huh? Watcha know 'bout that?" We were more like Bonnie and Clyde, but that story had a crap ending. No way were we going out like that. Not if I had any say in the matter.

"My redneck teacher was top notch," I joked as he grinned. "Walk the line, right?"

He smiled, his breathe on my face as he shook his head at me. "Yur crazy Red."

I tugged on his hair, pulling him down, whispering, "Your kind of crazy."

I kissed him, pouring my soul into it like a brand. Daryl was a man of few words, but actions he understood. I got lost in him, his touch, his smell, the way his hands traced the contours of my body. He played me like an instrument he knew by heart.

"Shit," he exclaimed in frustration, pulling away...again.

"What's wrong?"

I was too far gone to care about how breathy my voice sounded. All I could think about was the need for more. His body on mine. His lips tracing my skin. His hands touching every part of me. My body had an itch only he could scratch. My head was fuzzy, but I used every coherent brain cells I could round up to find _anything_ wrong with our current situation. The only thing they could come up with was the fact we weren't having sex.

He scratched the back of his head, "I ain't got..." I sighed, here we go again.

"A what?" My voice was more of a snarl than anything and I tried to calm myself and my hormones down. I was trying to be patient, I really was, but if this didn't end in an orgasm and soon I was likely to cause someone serious harm.

"Condom," he finished sheepishly. "Ain't never had a reason to carry one."

A condom. Wow. It was both impressive and terrifying that the need for one had never crossed my mind. Seriously, brownie points to Rambo for maintaining brain functionality while rounding third base.

"Oh." I sat up, forcing him to lean back slightly as I looked around the room. "Where's the bag?" He looked confused as he reached to the side handing it to me. I ripped open compartment after compartment as I tossed the contents over my shoulder without a backwards glance.

"What the hell ya doin'?"

I didn't bother answering, that would take time and my frustration level was reaching nuclear proportions. With an irritated growl that made Daryl lean away slightly I upended the bag, shaking the contents out with more force than necessary. Water bottles, jerky, medical supplies, cigarettes and everything else under the sun scattered across the floor as I sifted through the contents.

"Aha!" I yelled triumphantly, holding up the foiled wrapper, a beaming smile on my face. Victory! Daryl raised his eyebrows, looking back-and-forth between the condom and me. "It's not what it looks like," I back peddled. I mean it kinda was, but not really. "I didn't plan this I mean. Maggie gave it to me, you know, just in case. I didn't throw myself in the river in the hopes it would somehow end with us having sex. I'm not that slutty."

I rambled when I was nervous and no one had ever made me as nervous as Daryl Dixon. The way he was looking at me right now I might never shut up. His eyes were ablaze with sultry heat that made my lady bits hum in appreciation and suddenly I found it hard to breathe.

Was it hot in here? Did someone throw an extra log on the fire? Could I get a water?

"OK, well I am slutty when it comes to you, but I didn't do this on purpose. I mean, I want to have sex with you. Basically all the time, but I wouldn't risk frostbite to make it happen. Plus, we can't **_just_** have sex, that's not realistic. Is it? Cause if it is, I'm down if you are. It's all Maggie's fault really. Although, I admit I didn't put up much of a fight when she gave it to me, but it was precautionary..."

Daryl's lips crashing against mine put me out of my misery. He wrapped an arm around my back, lowering me to the floor, the other snatching the condom out of my hand.

"Shut up Red," he ordered as he trailed kisses down my neck.

"Sure thing."

I'd hop on one foot and bark like a dog ala _Coming to America_ as long as he didn't stop what he was currently doing with his lips or hands. Dear lord baby jesus, I'd eat Maggie's cooking every day for the rest of my natural life if it meant he'd never stop doing that with his hands.

"I won't." I said that _out loud_?

Before I could curl up and die from embarrassment he laughed huskily while his tongue trailed a line down my neck and between my breasts. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life as we took our time savoring the feel of each other, for once our one and only concern this moment in time. It wasn't awkward or clumsy like most first times. We moved as one, like this was a dance we'd done a hundred times, our hearts and minds in total sync.

This may be our first time as lovers, but I knew this man. I knew his body. Had long ago memorized every hard line and coiled muscle that spanned his impressive form. My own body instinctively knew what he needed, what he craved and I gave it to him. I understood him on a level that defied reason. In a way that shouldn't be possible given how long we'd known each other, but was all the same. His body called to me like a siren song I wouldn't be able to resist even if I wanted to. He consumed me, overwhelmed me. The outside world faded until there was nothing but him. The only thing I knew was the feel his body against mine and his lips as they worshiped every inch of my skin.

There was only now. There would only ever be him.

When his eyes found mine as he moved inside me I saw a side of him I never knew existed. I was well acquainted with his resiliency, had personally experienced his capacity for loyalty, and bared witness to his unwavering resourcefulness, but what I saw in that tiny, deserted cabin was a side he kept completely hidden from the world. Never in my life had I felt such passion. No one had ever looked at me with such caring. His blue eyes, normally carefully blank, were open windows leading directly to his soul. He was everything I never knew I needed, and I treasured every inch of him as he took me to heights I didn't know possible. We got lost in each other. Leaving the horrors of the world far behind.

We were both no strangers to pain. Our experiences with abuse and neglect were different, but pain was pain. Alone we were broken and damaged people trying to overcome tragic childhoods as we wondered a broken world aimlessly. Together we were different, whole. Together we would carve out our place in this cruel world.

Later, our limbs still tangled, bodies sated while his hand absently stroked my back I couldn't suppress a smile. Pressing my face into his chest I tried to smother a giggle I would later deny every uttering. He pressed a soft kiss against the top of my head, his arms tightening around me.

"What's funny?"

My body was half on top of him as I used his chest as a pillow. Tilting my head back so I could see his face I folded my hands under my chin, biting my lip as I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

"There's more than one condom."

* * *

 **BIG CHAPTER!**

 **You would not believe how many times I wrote and re-wrote this one while forever debating with myself exactly what they should (or shouldn't) do, what they should (or shouldn't) say...you get the drift. I hope it lives up to the hype and I especially hope you all like/agree with the timing. It felt right and I wanted them to take this very important step before they find the prison which won't be much longer if you were wondering.**

 **What do you think?**

 **If it makes you want to buy a deserted cabin in the middle of nowhere just in case then my work here is done :)**


	19. Whatever It Takes

**Whatever It Takes**

"Do you think we'll find anything useful?" T asked, eyes scanning the empty streets.

"I think we're out of options," I answered as I peered through my rifle scope.

I tracked Carol and Daryl as they made their way cautiously through the town heading to a general store. The small town we were raiding didn't look promising, but since we were literally starving to death beggars couldn't be choosers. Scavenging on the highway was too dangerous to be practical, a fact everyone now agreed on, and we hadn't stumbled upon any houses lately, so here we were in a little town that was picked clean looking for anything viable.

"Have we been here before?"

I pulled my rifle away, glancing around at the scenery that looked like every other one we'd traveled through the last few months to me. "Maybe, maybe not, these shitholes are all starting to blur together."

T exhaled sharply, "I think we have. The herds are forcing us in circles."

I shrugged because I didn't have anything to add. He was right, but there was nothing we could do about it. With the dead grouping together in massive herds we had to take what we could get even if it meant going places we'd already been, twice. This little song and dance was getting old. If we wanted to head east they forced us west. If we tried to go north they pushed us south. It didn't take a genius to deduce at some point the herds might converge and surround us like paratroopers at the Battle of Bulge, except we didn't have Patton's 3rd Army coming to our rescue.

"We can't keep doing this," he huffed, "Eventually we'll make a mistake and it'll be over."

I glanced at him, my face blank and I saw irritation flare in his normally carefree eyes. It was a constant struggle to remind myself how hard this was for everyone. Unfortunately for me this life wasn't all that different from my old one. The only change being now _both_ the living and dead were trying to kill me. I was the product of a system that ensured I not only survived this world, I thrived in it. The thought made my stomach knot up and put a bad taste in my mouth. I was born into violence, as comfortable with running and killing as breathing. A monster that reveled in chaos and the world wasn't short on chaos as of late.

"You're missing the point," I commented dryly. His eyes flew to mine, face scrunched up in confusion.

"How is staying alive missing the point?" It was phrased as a question, but the sarcasm coating the words made me hold my tongue. He wasn't done yet. "Enlighten me Obi-Wan, what is the point?" Someone had their diva pants on today.

"We're not fighting to live." Ignoring his grunt of disapproval I paused, looking him dead in the eye like I could _will_ him to understand. "We're fighting for each other."

He swallowed thickly, nodding with jerky motions as his eyes glistened. He turned his body away from me and out of courtesy I looked the other way giving him time to gather himself, but his ragged breathing betrayed his emotional state. He didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, but I knew better than most how horrifying it was to break down in front of someone else.

Shoulder my rifle again I peered through the scope, locating Carl and Rick as they crept towards a line of cars on the edge of town. A rustle of bushes in the tree line caught my attention and I aimed my rifle slightly right, twisted the scope to better focus the sight. Three walkers popped into view with stark clarity as I took a deep breath, lining up the first shot and squeezing the trigger. Before the remaining two walkers even realized their buddy was dead, again, I shot them both in the forehead with two, well placed, silent shots. Rick stumbled as the three dead walkers fell at his feet, turning and peering up at the water tower before nodding slightly and continuing forward. I angled my rifle forward, checking their anticipated route, but saw no additional walkers and relaxed, letting my rifle drop slightly.

I felt T's stare boring into the side of my head and looked at him. "What?"

"Boo-boo, you got some made skills."

I rolled my eyes, smothering my smile as I continued scanning for danger. Glad the T I knew and loved was back. If _he_ got emotional then _I'd_ get emotional and then we really would have a situation on our hands.

I focused on the mission, even if it pissed me off. The sound suppressor on my rifle made it the perfect long distance weapon so I was never surprised when my number was called for sniper duty, but it didn't mean I liked it. I enjoyed it even less when it involved being stuck in a giant, rusty, water tower on the verge of collapse as the rest of the group raided a town straight out of a horror flick. Unfortunately our options were severely limited for this shitty detail. The only other person capable of pulling off a shot at this distance was Daryl and he was on Rapunzel duty last go-round. He protested extra loud when I tried to volunteer him for the duty behind his back.

 _"Ain't no chance in hell Red," he declared, giving me a look that made most people pee their pants. It made my sausage wallet swoon like it was in a Jane Austen novel._

 _"Actually, it is. That's how 'not it' works. You said it last so you're stuck in the rickety water tower of death. Get it ?"_

 _Rick buried his face in his hands as he stood in-between us. I bet he felt more like a referee than an apocalypse group leader when the two of us went head-to-head. In my defense if Daryl hadn't snuck up on us while I was throwing him under the bus none of this would be happening._

 _"Ya ain't going into that town without..."_

 _"But you can go into without me?"_

 _"Woman if you'd let me finish a damn sentence."_

 _I pointed my finger in his face. "Don't take that tone with me Hanna."_

 _Rick groaned. "Jesus, I thought you guys sounded like an old, married couple before you started sleeping together."_

 _He left his statement hanging in the air like dirty laundry as Daryl's jaw snapped shut with such force he probably cracked a tooth, the tips of his ears going red. He liked living in fantasy land where no one knew we cuddled naked. I, on the other hand, didn't give a flying fuck who knew and they all knew._

 _"He's the one with a splinter in his boot," I accused, "And let's not forget his entire point doesn't amount to a mountain of beans."_

 _Daryl crossed his hands over his chest as he shook his head at me. "That made about as much sense as tits on a bull."_

 _It didn't take a genius to know I got the expression wrong, again. Why in the mother bitch couldn't I get these sayings right? I was fluent in four languages for fuck's sake, but somehow I still couldn't communicate in basic hillbilly._

 _"Listen Oliver Queen..."_

 _"Enough!" Rick roared, interrupting us. Both our heads rotated to him as we stepped away from each other. "Daryl you're with Carol on the north side of town. Alex, you're in the tower."_

 _Before I could lodge a detailed complaint regarding his organizational skills he was gone and so was Daryl, throwing a shit eating grin over his shoulder as he sauntered off. I decided to handle the loss like a mature adult so I flipped him off, walking to the water tower that was doing a spot on impression of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, not even trying to hide my pout. When this thing fell over and I died he was going to be really sorry._

Rick selected three groups of two for the raid on the town. Each group was assigned a section of town to search so we could systematically pick the town clean in the least amount of time possible. Maggie and Glenn were on the south side making their way through what appeared to be a warehouse. Rick and Carl were slowly checking all the abandoned cars in town which was slow and dangerous work. That left Carol and Daryl on the north side of town, the furthest away much to my chagrin, searching the boarded up store fronts. Lori, Beth and Hershel were safely hidden a few miles back. The pregnant woman was much too far along to do anything other than focus on incubating Nugget. There were no fast getaways where she was concerned. She moved with the grace and speed of a drunken college chic on Spring Break.

This was Carol's first foray into the world of scavenging, and I was nervous, both for her and Daryl. I personally worked with her all winter and the scared, timid woman I first met on the farm was a distant memory, but she wasn't exactly Annie Oakley either. She was a decent shot, sometimes, and she could now hold a knife without almost cutting her hand off, but she needed real practice to solidify her newfound skills. Sheltering people in this world wasn't protection. It was a death certificate with a blank end date.

I bit my lip as my edginess escalated to dizzying proportions that had nothing to do with the height of this death trap. I understood the need to harden our group, to mold them into survivors, but the thought of Daryl being down there without me made me want to puke. It wasn't that I didn't trust Carol. I didn't trust anyone who wasn't me where Legolas was concerned.

"What is that?" T's voice brought me back to the present as I followed his outstretched hand, raising my rifle and looking through the scope. My blood ran cold when I saw a sizeable group of men moving through the woods towards the town. I counted twelve, but that was just what I could see, but even that was too many. We only had six people down there, two of which were a child and a rookie.

I heard T fumbling with his walkie talkie and reached behind me, stopping him. "Don't. They're too close. If they don't already know we're here they will when they hear your voice."

"We have to do something." His voice was panicked so I squeezed his hand briefly, offering him what I hoped was a reassuring smile before I knelt down on one knee. I tucked my rifle firmly into my shoulder, bracing my right elbow on my right knee as I searched for Daryl.

"We are," I told him absently, focusing on Daryl as he crept forward along the sidewalk, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. Watching him for a beat I whistled, a distinctive three notes that carried in the wind. He froze instantly, grabbing Carol from behind and pushing her down behind a car before joining her, his senses in overdrive as he clutched his crossbow tight, eyes scanning for the danger he couldn't see.

"Holy shit, how did you know he'd hear you?"

Pulling back from the rifle I looked at T like he was nuts as he squatted beside me. "The man can hear a mouse pissing on a cotton ball at 100 meters. I may as well have commissioned a plane to sky-write a note."

I watched Daryl draw Rick's attention, the ripple effect of my warning cascading to everyone in our group in less than a minute. Thank god we used our downtime wisely, most days.

"True, but still, how did he know what it meant?"

"What else could it mean?" I tried to keep the mocking out of my voice, but failed miserably.

He glared at me. "Don't sass me, it's a legitimate question. You whistle some busted ass tune and somehow he knows it means we're at DEFCON 5?"

"Ex-cu-se me," I drawled, outraged, "My whistling is not busted and how do you even know what DEFCON 5 means?"

"Call of Duty." I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell over. "And you didn't answer the question."

Shaking my head I looked back through the scope. I honestly couldn't believe we were having this conversation now of all times. A hostile force was converging on our friends and he wanted to dissect my Vulcan mind meld with Katniss.

"He just does."

"That's some Hunger Games shit on the real," he mumbled.

Glancing back towards the group of men I watched as they hesitate at the edge of town, spreading out slowly to the left and right before proceeding forward. Either they were appropriately cautious or they already knew we were here. When I watched two men point directly at Rick and Daryl's hiding spots before breaking apart I knew it was the latter.

"Shit."

I turned the infrared laser on my rifle on, a solid red beam traveling from the tower to the concrete at Daryl's feet. As usual his hunter eyes missed nothing as he stared at the red dot, and I said a silent thank you it was an overcast day. I put my hand in front of the laser interrupting the beam for a split second before moving my hand.

 **One**.

I repeated the process again.

 **Two.**

I kept going until I reached twelve then looked through the scope at Daryl. His crossbow was on the ground, one hand raised with a single finger extended, the other hand displaying two.

 **There are twelve.**

I put my hand in front of the laser sight and moved my hand back and forth quickly, the red dot blinking twice.

 **Yes.**

He nodded once, turning and relaying the information to Rick as quietly as possible. I turned my attention back to the approaching group.

"How do we even know they're hostile?" T asked. His heart was too big. He was always looking for the good in people.

"Everyone who isn't us is hostile."

"This is why you don't have any friends. We need to work on your pessimism."

Someone fired a single shot shattering the glass of a car window dangerously close to Rick and Carl. I followed the trajectory of the bullet back to the shooter, putting his head directly in my crosshairs and firing, his body dropping to the ground less than a second later.

I glanced at T, "Some other time."

A man standing near the one I just killed shouted to his companions, his eyes gawking at the dead man at his feet. Then all hell broke loose. The once stillness of the day was replaced with gunfire, shouting and sound of bullets being fired in rapid succession. And here I thought today was going to be boring.

I picked my targets carefully, making sure to eliminate anyone with the audacity to venture too close to my friends on the ground. The louder the mayhem, the more intense the bedlam, the calmer I felt. The distinct sound of Rick's Colt Python firing, Maggie's voice calling out targets for Glenn, Daryl shouting instructions at Carol, all of it was familiar, comforting. The chaos settled me into a state of absolute focus even as the adrenaline surged through my veins like a drug. I both hated and loved the feeling.

I spotted a man creeping closer to Daryl and Carol as they tried to work their way out of the town, careful to stay behind any cover available, but their purser was also careful. His head was on a swivel trying to pinpoint my location, but no matter how hard he looked or how careful he was it would never be enough. Attacking us in this town was a fatal mistake on his part. The fact he was currently stalking Daryl made my vision go red. Madness bubbled inside me as I tracked him as he ducked behind a car, his eyes honed in on the man who meant everything to me. Daryl was shielding Carol with his body, keeping her safe while exposing himself. I expected no less of him, but it scared the beejesus out of me.

The man stayed hidden behind the trunk of a car and I kept my rifle pointed at the edge where I expected his head to pop out at any moment. With each passing second my fragile emotional state passed rage and was closing in on cray cray. I tried to keep the violence at bay, but it was a waste of time and energy. Where there were previously only fissures in my fragile barriers there were now gaping holes. A damn broke inside me. The walls keeping my base instincts in check shattering like the broken glass littering the streets below me. There was never a chance of holding it in. That evaporated the moment the man set his sights on Daryl.

Letting my old self out to play was dangerous. I was a hammer and everything was a nail. There was no middle ground. At this point I was more like a goddamn sledge hammer, but if my family needed the viciousness locked inside to keep them safe I would sacrifice my soul to save their lives. It wasn't even a choice. I would sacrifice even more than that where Daryl was concerned.

As predicted the man left the shelter of his car just as Carol sprinting from behind cover heading towards a building. Before his finger could even wrap around the trigger he was dead, the contents of his head plastered against the wall of the building behind him. Daryl's eyes flew towards the tower and I pulled my rifle away, swallowing hard as I looked at him. He nodded once and I returned the gesture even though I was fairly certain he couldn't see it. Carol's shriek pulled my eyes away from him as I scanned the streets for her. I found her sprinting down a street as gunfire erupted at her feet, two armed assailants trailing slightly behind. Hearing her cries Daryl sprung up, ready to intervene, but a round of gunfire to his left made him dive for cover, the bullets missing, but keeping him sufficiently pinned down.

The group was getting over the initial surprise of having to contend with more than your run of the mill survivors. They regrouped and were converging on the town, methodically pinning our people in place and leaving Carol alone and exposed. I couldn't find an angle for a shot on any of them now that they were acutely aware exposing any vital body part was rewarded with a ticket to a dirt nap. I scanned left, right, up and down, but there was nothing. My options were severely limited. I could fire with no chance of hitting anyone hoping the gunfire would scare them enough to keep them immobile, but this wasn't the movies and we didn't have an endless supply of ammo. Plus, Carol didn't have that kind of time.

I stood up, looking around for some way to get to her. Climbing down the tower would take too long, leave me utterly exposed to a bullet in the back, and since the rusted ladder barely held when we climbed up here that wasn't an option. I grimaced when I noticed a cable running directly past the tower, about five feet away from the walkway encircling the structure. The cable continued all the way down to a building a few blocks over. Oh man, this was gonna suck.

"Take this."

I thrust my rifle into T's hand, pulling my belt off and wrapping one end around my hand as I climbed over the railing. The metal shook, a screw popping loose and clattered to the ground. I swallowed the bile in my throat as I looked down. Man, that was really high. I hooked another leg over, holding onto the railing, trying to control my breathing as my heart hammered in my chest.

"What are you doing?" I took a deep breath, trying like hell to find my Zen, as I shuffled around the railing, getting as close to the cable as possible. When a part of the railing snapped off in my hand, my body pitching forward precariously I decided that was far enough. Discarding the piece of metal I tossed it over my shoulder. "Alex!" T yelled, his eyes wide as he clutched my rifle.

The cable was almost directly in front of me and I swallowed thickly looking back at him. "Keep them away from the others," I instructed.

His eyes bounced from me to the cable and he shook his head frantically back-and-forth. "No. No, this is crazy." Yes, yes it was.

"There's no other way. Carol's in trouble and someone has to cover the others. Just point and shoot. You can do it."

His mouth dropped open as he held my rifle away from his body like it was a venomous snake. "I can't..."

"You can," I cut him off. "You have to. They need you." Another burst of gunfire made us both look away and T's determination set in. He could do this, he had to. It was the only way.

"Daryl is going to kill me," he muttered, shouldering the rifle.

"He'll probably kill me first if it's any consolation."

He glanced at me, eyes serious. "Don't die."

"You either," I grinned at him. "And don't hurt my rifle or Daryl will be the least of your problems."

Looking away from him I eyed the cable as it traveled at a downwards angle over the road and to the top of a building about 50 feet away. Suddenly my plan felt a little more like madness than brilliance, but another cry from Carol followed closely by a gunshot nudged what little self-preservation I had out the window. I bent my knees, curling my hand so tight around my belt it hurt as the leather dug into my skin. Screw it.

I jumped.

I stretched my body out, using my height to my advantage as I soared towards the cable. When I was close enough I swung the loose end of the belt up and over the cable, my body sailing just underneath it. I wanted to cry with relief when the belt curled around the thin wire, but I wasn't out of the woods yet. I frantically reached for the end of the belt with my free hand. My hand smacked against the leather of the belt as I curled my fingers around it, squeezing hard, but my grip faltered. My hand slipped down the belt almost a half inch before I was able to curl my hand around the belt stopping my fall. OK, well, the hard part was done. Now I just had to hold on while my momentum carried me down the cable at a dizzying speed. The smell of burnt leather reached my nose and I swallowed hard, holding on with all my strength. One slip, one wrong move and I was done. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I couldn't believe this was working. I saw Tom Cruise do this once in a Mission Impossible movie, but he had stunt doubles and padded landing areas. I had a worn out belt, a 30 foot drop onto asphalt, and no do-overs.

My exit was fast approaching and I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable pain as I eyed the roof. This was going to suck balls and then some. When I passed the ledge of the roof, my body completely over the top of the building I let go of the belt. I was carrying too much speed to attempt landing on my feet. I kept my feet and knees locked together letting my momentum carry me forward as I tucked my body into itself, rolling as I hit the roof to lessen the impact. It worked, kind of. A couple of disorienting combat rolls later I was on my feet, suppressing a groan of pain as I glanced at the top of my shoulder. My shirt was shredded, exposing a nasty road rash that was little more than a flesh wound, but hurt like a son of a bitch. My hip and side strung, a rainbow of purples and black already forming on my pale skin. Considering I just zip lined off a water tower using a belt I was getting off rather light.

My aches and pains were forgotten the instant I heard another gunshot. It was Carol's gun. I'd recognize the sound of it anywhere considering I was the one who gave it to her. I ran forward, sprinting across the roof as fast as my legs would carry me. I heard the others shouting and firing as they fought for their lives on the street, but I had to believe they could handle themselves. Carol I wasn't sure about. It didn't escape my notice I was on a roof again. This was starting to become a habit.

Without slowing down I jumped up on the small, raised ledge at the end of the roof, leaping for the adjacent building and landing with significantly more grace than my zip line dismount. Another scream made me veer right, jumping another building as I made my way to Carol. She was in trouble that much was clear and the thought had me desperate. My legs burned with effort as I scaled the arched roof, the 45 degree angle punishing. Sweat poured down my face as I pushed myself harder, faster. Once I reached the peak of the roof I threw my body over sliding down the opposite site. I kicked my right leg out, my left arm stretched out behind me as my leg contacted the neighboring building, stopping my slide. I straddled the building looking at Carol standing directly below me with two men boxing her in. She was weaponless, arms raised in surrender, but the men armed men stalked forward. I waited for the closest one to pass underneath me and once he was I raised both my arms above my head, removing my foot from the wall. My body plummeted towards the ground as I felt the brick wall on either side of me scraping against my exposed skin. My feet crashed on top of the man behind Carol and I heard his neck snap like a twig. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Down!" I screamed at Carol who dropped into a crouch immediately.

Bracing my palms against the wall I jumped over as the man lunged forward with a knife. I used my right hand to slam his into the wall. The knife clattering to the ground, but I didn't stop as I grabbed a handful of hair, pulling his head down as I swung my knee up. His nose shattered with a sickening crunch at the contact, his cry of pain muffled by the blood filling his mouth. He raised his head, hands covering his broken nose and I brought my elbow forward slamming it into the side of his face. His head snapped sideways, striking the wall with an audible crack as he stumbled back dazed. I kicked my left foot into his stomach sending him flying backwards to the ground. Snatching a knife from my belt I pounced on him, sinking my blade into the side of his head. Pulling my knife out I stood up, turning to look at Carol who was now staring at me her face pale and legs trembling.

"You OK?" She looked down at the dead men at her feet, swallowed hard and nodded. "Come on, we have to find the others and get out of here."

I didn't wait for an answer, mainly because I knew I wouldn't get one. Shock was a powerful drug and Carol was flying high at the moment. I also couldn't bear the way she was looking at me right now. I sincerely hoped the fear I saw was due to her near death experience and not me, but I wasn't waitinig around to find out. Drawing my PPQ I moved towards the end of the alley as I sheathed my knife. No use in being quiet at this point. All we needed was a little glitter, a few dollar bills and we could really make it rain. At the edge of the alley I stopped briefly checking left and right before motioning her to forward. We hadn't taken two steps before I heard a trigger cocking behind me. I froze, mentally berating myself for my haste.

Sloppy. Stupid. And now it might kill us both.

I turned slowly, Carol following suit as I raised my hands in the air. The man in front of us was big, at least 6'3'' with wide shoulders, huge biceps and legs that looked more like tree trunks. A full beard covered his filthy face, but it was his eyes that held me. They were cold, calculating, and deadly.

"Drop the weapon," he commanded, his knuckles white from the grip on his own.

I bent down slowly, setting my PPQ on the ground before standing back up, hands still raised. I could hear Carol sniffling beside me, but I kept my eyes on the danger in front of us. It was telling he hadn't put a bullet in the back of our heads and called it a day. The fact he had the drop on us and didn't kill us was bad news. I didn't know what he had planned, but whatever it was I wanted no part of it. Rolling my shoulders I readied myself for anything the unpredictable man might throw at us. I hadn't just executed a perfect swan dive off a water tower to save Carol only to die now.

He opened his mouth to say something, his posture relaxing slightly now that he incorrectly assumed he had the upper hand. That was it. That was all I needed, a moment, a heartbeat to change the tide. Lunging forward I grabbed the slide on his weapon taking care to point the weapon away from me in case he got a lucky shot off. My fingers deftly found the slide release on the side of the weapon, pressing down as I released the locking mechanism on the vital part of the weapon. I pulled on the slide and it detached completely rendering the weapon useless.

His eyes went wide with shock as he reached for me, but I swatted his hand away, planting my foot on his hip as I grabbed his shoulder and hoisted myself up. I wrapped my legs under his armpits as I sat atop him as he reached for me, trying to find a way to throw me off. I twisted my shoulders and body, chest towards the ground as I reached for it. He yelped in surprise as his massive form fell. He hit the ground out-of-control, sprawled and confused while I landed in a crouch on the balls of my feet directly over his chest. I rotated the slide in my hand making sure the sharpest end of the impromptu weapon was positioned over the hallow of his throat, using my other hand to slam the object into the soft skin. His eyes bulged as an awful choking sound spilled from his lips, blood pouring from the gaping, jagged wound. It didn't take long for the light to fade from his eyes, his life ending with a final puff of air and I let out a slow breath.

Once he was gone my senses, that had only seconds before been focused solely on survival, slowly returned to me. The first thing I noticed was the stark quietness. Clearly the gunfight at the OK Corral was over. The silence was overwhelming and I desperately wished for gunfire, shouting, explosions, anything to drown out the debilitating sound of nothing. Death, destruction and mayhem I felt comfortable with, facing the reality of my situation not so much.

Glenn was the first person I saw when I looked up. His face was blank, but not without considerable effort on his part judging by the shaking in his shoulders. It didn't escape my attention he was using his body to shield Maggie who was hidden slightly behind him. It was an unconscious move on his part, his body's most primal responses kicking in. Nevertheless it hurt worse than the gravel embedded in my shoulder blades.

My eyes flicked over his shoulder to Maggie and I saw a similar expression on her face. Oddly enough she didn't look surprised, just scared. Her heart classified me as a friend, but her brain saw me as a predator, and there was no overriding instinct.

Rick was beside Carl, his lips pulled into a thin line as his eyes assessed the scene. I explained in graphic detail what I was capable of, but this was his first time seeing it and that was an entirely different animal. Judging by the look on his face he longed for the days when I was only a former Soldier with better than average combat skills.

Carl didn't look the least bit troubled and that was the most disturbing of all. He was only a child, but this type of violence was second nature to him. It wouldn't be long before he had a hard time recollecting anything but brutality and death. I hated that I perpetuated the cycle. The innocence all children possessed was sucked out of him the day the dead started walking.

Carol was still crying behind me and didn't need to look at her to know her face was deathly pale. Slowly, Maggie moved from behind Glenn, making her way to the distraught woman, offering me a small smile as she passed I couldn't return. It was her way of telling me it was alright, we were alright, but standing there covered in a dead man's blood it was hard to believe.

My eyes scanned our group, looking for the only thing that would help me. Daryl stepped forward like he could hear my thoughts. His crossbow was in his hands, arrow notched, body ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Starting at the tips of his worn boots I scanned his body for any injury, finding nothing obvious. He was covered in blood, but I could tell none of it was his, and I finally let myself relax. When my eyes finally made it to his face I frowned. Instead of fear or relief I was greeted with fury. The man was pissed, plain and simple.

What in the...?

Something caught my eye overhead and I glanced up. I winced internally when I saw the thin cable and was reminded I Supermaned off a water tower, zip lined on a questionable cable with only a belt, jumped over several buildings, and ended my aerobatic routine by dropping 30 feet to the ground without a net. Clearing my throat awkwardly I looked away from his angry scowl focusing on retrieving my weapons, and trying to figure out if it was too late to make a run for it. Suddenly twelve armed men trying to kill us felt like child's play compared to the snarling hillbilly.

"Everyone alright?" Rick asked as the group reported in they were fine one-by-one. I kept quiet, trying to make myself as small as possible which wasn't easy considering I clocked in at almost six feet. It was a far too late to hope no one noticed my Jackie Chan imitation, but a girl could always hope for invisibility. "Glenn, get T and let's get the hell out of here. The herd has to be moving this way."

Glenn scampered off as Maggie walked by, her arm around a shaking Carol, but before they passed Carol stopped wrapping me in an unexpected bear hug. My arms hung limp at my side as her tears soaked my tattered shirt.

"Thank you," she sniffled, voice quiet. When she pulled away I bit my lip, nodding at her as Maggie guided her back towards our waiting cars.

Keeping my head low I tried to follow them, but was stopped when a mountain suddenly moved directly in front of me. It was so large it all but blotted out the sun and I cringed. I was so done with today. We were officially breaking up. Since the mountain had yet to move and I doubted my ability to go around it unscathed I decided to face the music, tilting my head all the way back so I could look at him. I plastered what I sincerely hoped was an innocent looking expression on my face. I was aiming for a sad Puss in Boots. Judging by Daryl's face it went over as well as a turd in a punchbowl.

"Hey Merida."

His face darkened and I almost took a step back, his rage hitting me like waves crashing against the side of a cliff. I should have kept my mouth shut. Daryl didn't have a humor chip and so far my thorough inspections of him hadn't turned up a chill one either. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, stepping into my personal bubble with slow, predatory steps. A smart person would run screaming, but I had never been accused of being brilliant. Instead of fear I felt heat shooting to inappropriate parts of my anatomy and I cursed my fucked up internally wiring. It wasn't my fault. Literally everything this man did turned me on. The other day I watched him bite the head off a fish and swooned. That wasn't normal. His eyes scanned me from head to toe slowly, checking for injuries much like I did earlier. His face was all hard edges and barely contained wrath as his hands ghosted over my shredded shoulder. I hissed in pain as he gently pulled the fabric aside inspecting the damage.

"It's not bad," I told him. His eyes flicked to mine briefly before going back to the wound, a clear dismissal. "Really, I'm fine."

He exhaled sharply, stepping away from me with his fists clenched at his sides. "Fine?" His voice was low, more a growl than anything, and this time I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut. I was 80% sure that was rhetorical. "Ya jumped off a tower and a handful of buildings, yur shoulder's all fucked up, and ya call that fine?" The calmness in his voice did nothing to disguise his true feelings. He was holding onto his temper with nothing more than hopes and dreams. I upped my initial estimate to 90%. "Ya ain't got nothin' to say?"

I put my hands up, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, "I'm gonna be honest, I'm having a hard time navigating this conversation. Answering your questions seems hazardous to my health, but staying quiet isn't looking like a picnic either." He scoffed, spitting onto the ground at my feet before pivoting on his heel and stalking away. "Daryl wait," I called out, trailing after him, but he rounded on me so fast I almost fell over in an effort not to run into him. One second his long legs were carrying him away faster than I could keep up and the next he was in my face.

"Ya don't take nothin' serious!" he roared, finger in my face. "Do ya want to die? Is that it?!"

I couldn't hold his intense stare so I looked away. Staring at the street like it might offer a different answer. No, I didn't want to die. I hadn't since I was a little girl locked in a closet promising myself I would survive no matter what even if it was only to spite someone. That being said I knew he would hate my answer, and maybe me too.

"Better me than someone else," I whispered.

I expected my answer to cause screaming, yelling, maybe even the dodging of arrows, but what I wasn't expecting was nothing. He didn't say _anything_. I didn't even hear him breathing so I looked up and instantly wished I hadn't. His face was a stormy cloud of emotions that were flittering across his face so quickly I was at a loss to decipher them. The only one I was able to pick out with relative ease was his infamous murdering scowl. This was the first time that look had ever been directed at me and it stung. I would have said anything to erase that look, but he was gone before I had the chance.

I watched his retreating back for a moment, eyes fixed on the angel wings stitched into his vest. I wanted him to look back, but despite my silent pleas he didn't. I wanted to say something to make it better, but words failed me. At the moment I wasn't sure what hurt worse, my body or my heart. I might have stood in that street forever if I hadn't heard the low moans of the dead getting closer. With achy limbs and a heavy heart I followed him, knowing tonight would be no better than today. How naïve to think jumping off a water tower would be the hardest thing I did today..

The bike ride to camp was more awkward then when you try for a silent fart only to have it come out like machine gun bursts. It was physically impossible to keep my distance from him while on the machine. Well, not without falling off the back. Normally plastering myself to Daryl was my favorite way to pass the time, but today it was like hugging the strange Aunt you only saw at family reunions who felt the need to kiss you on the lips, blood red lipstick and all. He was stiff as a board and silent as the night. The latter wasn't a complete departure from his normal demeanor. Daryl was fluent in silence, but this wasn't just silence for silence sake. It was a careful decision based on the fact he doubted his ability to talk to me and not throw things. I sometimes had that effect on people.

Back at camp I longed for the distraction of modern conveniences like my cell phone. Nothing made sitting with a group of people in silence more tolerable than pretending to be absorbed in texting until the weirdness blew over. Instead, I opted for the first watch, picking a spot as far from camp as I could get while still offering any semblance of protection should the need arise. Between the fury rolling off Daryl and the uncomfortable glances from everyone else the need to bury myself under a rock was tempting. That night, before I had a chance to slink away, Maggie pulled me aside briefly, trying her best to calm my fears.

"What you did today..." she began.

" I'm sorry if I scared you. I would never hurt you, any of you, I was just..."

"Alex, no one is scared of you." When I raised my eyebrows at her she only grinned. "I'm serious. What you can do, it's amazing, and we're blessed to have you with us."

I scoffed, "It's not amazing. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know enough. You're my sister. We're family. That's all I need to know."

I pressed my lips together, blinking rapidly to hold back the waterworks as she pulled me in for another hug. This woman and her hugs. I swear she was trying to singlehandedly make up for my shitty childhood one bone crushing hug at a time. I wrapped my arms around her, trying very hard to believe her.

Acceptance was a fickle beast and I had little practice with taming it. In my experience most people had one of three reactions to me: annoyance, hatred or disregard. As I settled against a tree, facing away from camp with my rifle across my lap I turned Maggie's words over in my mind again and again.

Could it really be true? Was it that easy?

I had no experience with strangers who accepted you, who claimed to love you. I discreetly watched the looks directed at me as I entered camp carefully looking for any sign of fear or hatred, but saw none. They all went about their normal routines as though today was any other day, and unfortunately I suppose it was, even the fighting with Legolas part. Daryl and Rick were the only ones privy to the details of my past, but it didn't take a college degree to know there was something distinctly different about me. From all the evidence I collected over the months it appeared no one cared. It was a strange feeling, acceptance. I felt a presence behind me and tensed for a split second before recognizing the distinctive gait.

"There are laws against stalking," I told Daryl.

He could have easily snuck up on me in utter silence if he wanted to so I knew my hearing him was a direct effort on his part. Smart move considering our last conversation. Our arguments were the stuff of legends. Not much was off limits once the gloves came off except hair pulling. That was a bitch move no matter how you sliced it. Per the norm he said nothing, simply sitting down beside me, leaving a good foot between us, and I tried not to bristle at the distance. He hadn't said a damn word and yet I knew all I needed to know. He was still pissed and I still wasn't sorry. We were at an impasse.

The silence between us stretched out as I scanned the forest for danger and he did nothing from what little I could see from the corner of my eye. He came here for a reason and if I learned anything being with him these past months it was you couldn't rush him. He moved at his own pace, lived his life to the beat of a drum no one else heard, so forcing something out of him was as useless as a knitted condom.

"Hershel look at ya?" he asked not looking at me. I resisted the urge to groan. He knew he had. He hovered nearby like a mother hen the entire time the old man picked out every piece of gravel as I bit down on my knuckle to keep from hollering.

"Yeah."

I saw him nod his head and sighed. At this rate we would still be having this conversation next year. I tried not to let my thoughts spin out of control as I remembered the last time he shut me out. I couldn't go through that again. It might hurt my pride to mend this fence, but having him pull away would shred my heart so it was an easy decision.

"I'm sorry I scared you," I conceded. He glanced at me, his face half concealed by the darkness of the night. "I know you want me to be sorry for what I did, but I can't. Carol's life was in danger and I was the only one who could get to her. I won't apologize for saving her."

He leaned against my tree, his body slightly closer now. "I know." Those two words eased some of the tension in my body. "I'd have done the same," he added. My head turned sharply, my mouth hanging open. He snorted, "Well, I wouldn'ta done it quite like that but ya get the point."

"Bet you wish you were the one in the tower now huh?" He scowled at me. "Too soon?"

"Yeah Red, too soon." I shrugged, picking up a stick and stripping away the dry bark. "What ya said before..." he trailed off and my hands froze. "It ain't true."

"Daryl..."

"No, ya had yur turn, now ya get to listen," he interrupted.

"So bossy. I like it."

He pinned me with a serious look. "Stop."

"Spoil sport."

He rolled his eyes before continuing, "I ain't no good with words and I'm even worse when it comes to…us."

I tried not to smile. It was obvious he didn't know what to call our relationship and he wasn't the only one. Labels were difficult. Boyfriend sounded juvenile, like we were in high school asking each other to go steady. Lovers sounded cliché, like something out of Carol's porn books. Partner sounded too platonic and nothing I felt for Daryl was platonic.

"Ya think it don't matter. That no one care if ya live or die." He paused, biting on his thumbnail, a nervous habit that flared up when deep in thought. "I care. I wouldn't...I can't..."

I reached over and grabbed his hand, "I know. Me too."

"Do ya?" Even in the dark of night I could see his piercing blue eyes clearly.

Unable to hold his penetrating gaze I looked down, "I do, and I know you don't believe me but I don't want to die. I just...there's this part of me, buried deep down, and sometimes when I open myself up to it I can't control it. Today when I saw you and Carol get separated, when I heard her screaming I didn't think, I just reacted. I can't explain why I do what I do, but for better or worse it's a part of me. It's in there and it always will be. I'm sorry I made you worry, but I need you to know even when my actions look reckless they aren't. I'm doing everything in my power to live...to make it back to you." Tears slipped out of my eyes as I struggled to keep my composure. Daryl's hand snaked under my chin, tilting my head up as his hand brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, cupping the back of my head. "I don't deserve you," I admitted. "I never will. I understand if you can't do this."

"Alex don't."

"It's true and you know it. You said you were nothing before all this like it's a bad thing." I grabbed his wrist, keeping him close. "There are worse things than being nothing. I can't stand the thought of you seeing me for who I really am, a monster." The last word was barely more than a whisper.

"That ain't what I see when I look at ya," he murmured. My hands were flat against his chest, our faces inches apart.

"What do you see?"

"I don't see what ya can do. I see who ya are."

"Who am I?" The million dollar question I'd never been able to answer.

"Mine," he answered simply.

He pulled me the rest of the way to him, brushing his lips against mine. The kiss was passionate. Our relief today ended with everyone alive and relatively unscathed heightening our need for each other. My body melted into his, our lips fitting together like two pieces of the same puzzle. When he pushed I yielded and when I took charge he surrendered willingly. His hands played with my hair as my hands explored his body. When we broke apart, what seemed like a lifetime later, he looked at me at me with such tenderness the world and all the horrors in it disappeared. My entire life I was unsure of my place in the world. I drifted from one thing to another with no destination in mind. Ironic it took the end of the world for me to find my place. I finally found a home and it was in the arms of a man who held my heart in the palm of his hand.

* * *

 **Little bit of action, little bit of background, little bit of Daryl and Alex (which is never a bad thing). Am I right?**

 **Thoughts, comments, declarations of utter amazement :) Let me hear ya!**


	20. Home Sweet Home

**Home Sweet Home**

"You guys stay back and keep hidden until you get the all clear," Rick instructed, looking towards the people that wouldn't be clearing the house. They all nodded absently, the drill second nature at this point. "Y'all ready?"

"Lead the way Captain America," I answered for the assault party. The quip didn't register with anyone save Daryl who rolled his eyes as he loaded up an arrow. Tough crowd. I made a mental note to find some new material in my downtime.

Rick glanced at me, his face stern. "No half-assing it Alex. We take our time and do this right. Go slow, stay alert, and be ready for anything."

Rick, Daryl, and Carl walked off, continuing to review the plan in excruciatingly boring detail. I gave a brief nod to Maggie and Glenn who were clearing the perimeter, falling into step next to T, checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping before I started talking shit.

"That's just insulting," I whispered to him, "I make a point to always use my whole ass." Just ask Daryl. He snickered, bumping his shoulder with mine and I smiled. At least someone appreciated my effort.

I eyed the decrypted, white house in front of us with more than a little skepticism. It was the first semi-decent structure we'd come across in four days which meant we were exploring it despite the numerous walkers we could see through the dirt stained windows. And by semi-decent I meant it had a roof that wasn't completely caved in. The possibility of finding food was slim at best, but slim was better than none.

"Think we'll find anything?" T asked as we slowly made our way towards the house.

"Other than dead people?" That earned me a glare and I shrugged. "Food, probably not, but maybe a night with half a roof over our heads and that's something."

Right about now that was the apocalyptic equivalent of a winning lotto ticket. I couldn't remember the last time hadn't slept crammed into cars or on the unforgivingly hard ground. I spotted a couch in the living room earlier while scouting and that bed bug infested piece of crap had my name on it.

"You are so glass half empty," he commented.

"My glass is realistic not empty. There are at least three walkers hanging out downstairs."

"And?"

I stopped walking, shaking my head at him. "T, why do you think they're still there?" When he didn't answer I started walking again, answering my own question. "Most likely because they decided to hole up in their house thinking it would save them and died. Whatever food they had stocked is long gone."

"Depends, maybe they died early and never got a chance to eat it."

I smirked at him. "Your glass is full of bullshit my friend." There was optimistic and then there was T. He huffed at me as we caught up with the others, squatting down behind a few abandoned cars as Rick surveyed the house.

"OK, normal formations. Be careful. No one do anything stupid." He looked directly at me when he said the last part, as did everyone else.

"Promise," I swore, holding my pinky finger out to him. He looked at my finger, confused. "It's a pinky promise like a blood oath, but more civilized." And less messy.

He sighed, moving past me without cementing the promise. I dropped my hand with a shrug. If that was how he wanted to play it so be it. Pinky promises were serious shit so anything that happened from this point forward was technically not my fault. In my book an "oops" was better than a "what if" any day of the week. Daryl paused as he passed by, grabbing my hand and wrapping his pinky finger around mine. T snorted in the background as my mouth dropped open in shock. The redneck gave me a shit-eating grin in return. Did Daryl Dixon just pinky promise? That needed to be documented for historical purposes.

"Well aren't you more excited than a tornado by a mobile home," I said dryly.

"Yep," he deadpanned, letting go of my hand and striding off. I was so flabbergasted it took me a minute to process his words.

"Wait," I yell-whispered to him, "I got it right?"

He shot a grin over his shoulder and I legitimately swooned, leaning on T for support. "Hell no." Hell no, what? What were we talking about again? Oh yeah, my inability to navigate the language of a hillbilly.

"Gross," T commented, shoving me off him. Under normal circumstances I made a point to fume for at least five minutes after incorrectly speaking any redneck jargon, but right now I could care less. My entire focus was on Daryl, his sexy smirk, his confident swagger and an ass that wouldn't quit. Damn. "Could you focus please? I thought you promised to use your whole ass."

"Oh trust me, I plan on it," I laughed, eyes honed on Daryl like a Tomahawk missile.

"Being your friend requires an uncanny ability to swallow down vomit."

"Don't hate the player, hate the game big guy. You could bounce a quarter off that thing," I joked as he bent over and gagged, "Come on. Let's get into some trouble."

Just outside the property line of the front yard we ducked behind a row of bushes, lining up strategically. Rick gave everyone the once over before creeping towards the front door, me following then Daryl, T and finally Carl bringing up the rear.

House raid 56 commencing.

Rick kicked open the front door immediately shooting a walker to his right in the face, the reverberation of the shot making my bones rattle. Since Rick didn't carry a weapon so much as he carried a piece of artillery being quiet was a pipe dream. I sprang forward, slamming my knife into the forehead of a walker on the left. It stumbled back, colliding with a window, the glass splintering under its weight. I yanked my knife out sending it tumbling to the ground. I heard the distinct thumb of Daryl's boots behind me as he entered the house, kicking at the door to keep it open as he peeled off to the right. Turning I nodded briefly at Carl, sending him a wink before following Daryl.

We crept around the formal sitting room, the hardwood floors squeaking with every step. The air inside the house was rank, the stagnant air so pungent with walker guts and decaying bodies it was impossible to breathe through your nose, but inhaling through your mouth meant allowing the disgusting odor to coat your tongue. Neither option sounded particularly appealing, but I doubted my ability to hold my breath for 24 hours. Hastily I pulled up my face shield, covering my mouth and nose even thought it would do little to combat the smell, but maybe it would help keep the cooties out. Daryl, completely unaffected by the smell that threatened to make me pass out, paused in the hallway making sure I was still with him before grabbing the door handle. I nodded briefly, spinning the knife in my left hand while tightening my grip on the one in my right. We were dangerously low on ammo so I left the bullets for the people who needed them. I didn't need a gun to stay safe, but the same couldn't be said for everyone. I'd kill walkers with thumbtacks if it meant keeping Carl at a relatively safe distance.

Moving directly in front of the door I readied myself for anything as he twisted the knob, swinging it open. When nothing immediately tried to eat me I crept into the bedroom, eyes scanning every corner for danger, knives poised to strike. The room was mercifully empty of the dead, but covered floor to ceiling in wood paneling and I had to say I'd prefer a few walkers to this. There may be no food in this house, but it came complete with a time machine if we wanted to go back to the 1960's. And here I thought the worst thing in this house would be the smell. All this wood paneling was a crime against home décor.

I felt Daryl's hand touch my elbow, and turned. He gestured to a closet door by the window and I moved to it while he went to the opposite end of the room. My pulse was racing, palms sweaty as I holster the knife in my right hand so I could open the door. Taking a deep breath I yanked on the handle, opening the door with slightly more force than necessary, one of the old hinges popping off the doorframe and clattering to the floor. The closet was empty and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

My relief at finding nothing was short lived as I heard what sounded like shuffling feet coming from behind the door closest to Daryl. Crossing the room in a flash I stood behind him, ready to offer assistance he didn't need, but would get all the same. He held his crossbow high, arrow ready to cancel Christmas for whatever was on the other side, but instead of a walker we came face-to-face with Rick. I exhaled sharply, bending over and bracing my hands on my knees, trying to calm my heart rate as the two men snorted, lowering their weapons. This shit was going to give me gray hairs. Rick gave us a brief nod, heading back the way he came as Daryl turned and gave me a once over.

"You good?"

"Gotta be," I answered, standing back up. He stepped forward, pulling down my face shield and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. I practically purred when his hand drifted to the base of my neck massaging the tense muscles. My eyes closed, leaning into his touch, my hands squeezing his wrist.

"Come on."

Leaving the time machine room we moved to a set of steep, wooden stairs leading to the second floor, Daryl in the lead as I watched our backs. I could hear T, Carl and Rick rummaging through the kitchen and my stomach rumbled at the prospect of food. I didn't think there was anything here, but it didn't stop me from hoping. Apocalypses were built on hope or was that rebellions?

At the top of the stairs we split up, each advancing towards bedrooms at opposite ends of the hallway. I tiptoed towards the door which was slightly ajar. Peeking through the slit I saw nothing in the immediate vicinity that screamed imminent death so I kicked the door open wider with my foot, entering the room cautiously as I scanned for danger. The place looked like it was made of pure tetanus, but unless filthiness was considered dangerous there was nothing here. The room was in disarray, a mattress stacked against the wall, trash strewn all over the floor, dressers opened with clothes spilling out, and broken glass from the shattered windows everywhere. All it needed was a bong and it would look exactly like my bedroom when I was a teenager. Making a slow circle around the room I looked for anything useful in the piles of shit, but only found despair. The room was a physical manifestation of the world we lived in now, dirty, destroyed and utterly useless.

Turning around I left, making my way down the hall to Daryl. I found him in another ransacked bedroom similar to the one I just inspected with one glaring difference. There was an owl perched on a rocking chair next to a window. I stood in the doorway, my head cocked to the side as I listened to it hooting at Daryl as he eyed it, crossbow held high. I had no idea why the owl didn't flee through the open window. Maybe he was as fed up with life as the rest of us. Suicide by redneck was as good a way to go as any I guess. Whatever the reason he gave one final hoot before Daryl put an arrow in his eye socket with an expertly aimed shot

"I bet it taste like chicken," I commented matter-of-factly.

"Owl's a good meal."

I snorted, "Anything's a good meal at this point." He grunted in agreement as he collected the bird, walking towards me, holding out the dead animal. My eyes went wide as I looked between him and Hedwig, taking a giant step back. "Is this your idea of foreplay?"

"Yur so squeamish."

"I prefer my chicken from KFC so if you could hurry up and make that," I pointed at the dead bird, "Look like a bucket of extra crispy I'd much appreciate it." He smirked, grabbing the bottom of my tank top and dragging me closer before pressing a chaste kiss against my lips. He pulled back much too quickly for my liking, attempting to leave the room. "Where are you going?" He held up the bird like that explained everything. I pointed at the bed like _that_ explained everything. "KFC can wait a few seconds.

"A few seconds?" His voice was so high pitched and offended I laughed.

"Best 30 seconds of my life babe."

He scowled at me, brushing passed as he headed for the stairs, owl feathers trailing in his wake. "Gonna pay for that later."

"Promises, promises," I sing-songed.

Unfortunately for both of us 30 seconds would be a much welcomed miracle at this point. We'd been on the run for eight months and between the pace we were forced to move at and the utter desperation to keep our group alive there was no time for hanky panky. Privacy was an illusion and I didn't do group performances, unlike Maggie and Glenn. So since our very pleasurable and extensive sex romp at the cabin all we managed to sneak in were a few stolen kisses, some light grouping, and a lot of midnight cuddling which Daryl insisted was for survival. How his hands on my boobs kept us alive was anyone's guess. Not that I was complaining.

I heard Rick whistle at the door, signaling the others it was safe to come out of hiding as I made my way downstairs. Glenn and Maggie were already inside so the perimeter check was quick which meant we might be able to at least sleep here tonight. The duo were currently stacking up dead walkers by the stairs as Carol and Beth made their way in, arms full of supplies.

Lori was the next, holding her enormously swollen belly as she passed her husband. I pursed my lips, watching as she offered him a tiny smile he didn't return, his eyes hardening with something I could only describe as hatred. Sighing I made my way over to Daryl who was perched on the arm of the couch plucking feathers. Sinking into the dusty piece of furniture I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to clear the air of wayward feathers as they stuck to my sweaty clothes, hair and face.

"Do you mind?" I glared at him and he grinned, taking a handful of feathers and dropping them in my lap. I sank back into the couch, resting my head against the cushions, resigned to looking like Big Bird until he was done defending his manhood. Men took quips about their stamina serious.

Carl rushed into the room, alight with excitement as he sat down and immediately pulled out a few canned goods, but instead of excitement at the prospect of food I felt my stomach drop. Everyone watched silently as he pulled out a can opener and began frantically trying to pry them open. In that moment I knew we had failed this child. I turned my head away, resting my forehead against Daryl's side, trying to ignore the sounds.

A can of dog food. How had it come to this? Were we really so far gone that eating dog food was an option? The answer was yes. The silence in the room as he continued to struggle to open the cans was proof of that. Our situation was dire and at this point anything edible was on the table. No one made a move to stop him, no one spoke, and I wasn't sure if it was shock or simply resignation.

Last week I choked down a handful of bugs and a few worms Daryl found for lack of anything else to eat. I'd eaten far worse in survival training, but that particular part was always a struggle for me. The way they wiggled on the way down was enough to send me screaming in the other direction, but Daryl outlined a very detailed plan to force feed me the slimy creatures if I refused. I took door number two, holding my nose while chewing and swallowing as quickly as possible. Even then I was tempted to scrub my tongue against tree bark to erase the grimy taste left behind.

Carl's impromptu feast drew Rick's attention away from the window and when he saw his son about to eat dog food the look on his face made me want to disappear. He stomped forward without a word, picking up one of the cans and looking at it with such loathing I folded into myself, leaning even closer to Daryl who put a hand around my shoulder, continuing to pluck feathers. The wrath blazing in his eyes was scary as he pivoted on his heel, throwing the can into the fireplace with a resounded crash that echoed in the otherwise silent house.

He looked around the room, breathing hard, eyes wild, and I knew whatever feelings of failure I harbored were nothing compared to him. Swallowing hard I closed my eyes, unable to bare the troubled look on his face. I knew that look, had seen it on my own face more times than I could count. There was nothing to be done for it. This kind of life changed you. The choices we were faced with on a daily basis made success feel like an impossible dream, and no one felt that more than Rick.

I was almost grateful when I heard T's "psst", opening my eyes to see him nodding outside. The tension in the room was so palpable it made facing a group of walkers appealing. I was up and moving towards the door before anyone else reacted, a knife in one hand, PPQ in the other so I could cover our retreat. I bolted out a side door, the hushed voices and footsteps of the group sounding behind me as I raced around a thicket of bushes to our vehicles. Daryl kept pace beside me, everyone making their way to their assigned cars like clockwork, tossing in supplies and weapons. I stood beside Daryl's bike as he climbed on, kick-starting the engine and twisting the throttle. I watched over everyone until they were safely tucked inside a vehicle before climbing on behind him, the roar of the bike not enough to drown out the moans of the dead as we made our escape.

We pulled to a stop a few miles down the road, nothing but woods surrounding us on the small back road. I climbed off the bike, Daryl giving me a questioning look I purposefully ignored as I walked over to where Maggie and Glenn had the map out on the hood of a car. I rubbed my face as I looked down, the red lines marking the locations of herds close to surrounding us hard to miss.

"We got no place left to go," T stated the obvious.

"When this herd meets up with this one we'll be cut off. We'll never make it south," Maggie pointed out.

"What did you say it was about 150 heads?" Daryl leaned on the car, looking at Glenn for confirmation.

"That was last week. It could be twice that by now."

"This river could have delayed them," Hershel offered, "If we move fast we might have a chance to tear right through them." That was wishful thinking. Between the sheer size of the herds and the composition of our group moving fast wasn't something we could pull off.

T shook his head, "Yeah, but if this group joins that one it could spill out this way."

I suppressed my groan, walking away and leaving the eternal debate about where to go behind me. It was the same conversation and same result every time. We were fucked. End of story. I stopped beside Carl giving him a nudge. His eyes never swayed from the woods as he vigilantly stood guard.

"You good?"

He smiled, "Gotta be."

I rolled my eyes, "Please don't encourage him." That was all we needed, a Daryl Dixon clone running around.

"You think we'll find somewhere?" I lost count of how many times he asked me this question and my answer was always the same.

"Of course we will."

His head dropped down as he adjusted his father's hat. "You don't really believe that do you?"

"I do."

His head turned to me with a frown. "Why?"

"Because we have to."

There was no other choice. We couldn't keep this up. Not with a pregnant woman about to birth what looked to be a 20 pound baby, and a group on the verge of collapse. We had to find somewhere permanent or we were dead. The group surrounding the map dispersed coming to a decision for the time being and I made my way back to the bike. T, Maggie and Glenn were grabbing water cans from the back of the truck so I took off my pack, pulling out the parts of my rifle and kneeling down as I put it together quickly.

"Hunt?" I asked Daryl who was standing nearby, readying his own weapon. It made sense to make good use of our time if we were going to be here for a minute. Our Vulcan mind meld was at it again. We were so in tune we'd totally take home the gold in the synchronized swimming competition.

He nodded at me, calling out to Rick, "Hey, while the others wash their panties let's go hunt." I snickered and Rick looked past the unrefined redneck at me.

I shrugged in response. "He's got such sweet pillow talk." Rick actually smiled at that. Well, he didn't so much smile as he frowned less which these days was about as good as it got.

"That owl didn't exactly hit the spot," Daryl commented.

"And it tasted nothing like chicken." He shook his head at me as I shouldered my pack, heading into the woods as the duo followed.

Only a few hundred feet in we came upon a long abandoned set of railroad tracks and started down them, using it as a trail. At least this way we didn't have to break brush through the woods for the better part of the day. Plus, this decreased the odds of me getting lost exponentially. We hadn't been walking more than 10 minutes when the dense tree line on either side of the tracks thinned to almost nothing revealing a massive prison in the distance. I stopped abruptly, mouth agape as I took in the enormous concrete structure complete with chain-link fences topped with barbed wire that cordoned off a sprawling yard filled with walkers.

"Well slap my ass and call me Sally," I exclaimed, my smile bright. I looked back at the two men, waving frantically as their walk turned into a jog. They stopped beside me, their eyes wide, and faces surprised but for two very different reasons.

"That's a shame," Daryl stated as he surveyed the landscape.

Rick looked around the prison, his breathing coming faster, a wild gleam in his eyes that told me he saw the same thing I did. There may be walkers literally everywhere you looked, but the massive prison and the fortified defensive already in place made me want to jump up-and-down in joy.

Rick look at me, a calculated grin on his face. "Alamo."

"Alamo." I laughed as I said it, bounding over to him in a few strides and pulling him into a hug. His arms tightened around me and I could feel his body shaking with laughter as we basked in our first real success since the farm.

"The fuck? Alamo?"

I let go of Rick, turning and jumping into Daryl's arms, legs going around his waist. He caught me, barely, stumbling in surprise as I whispered against his ear, "You're gonna love this Legolas."

"Shit."

Thirty minutes later we were all gathered around Rick as he frantically cut a small hole in the chain-link fence leading to a gravel pathway that circled the prison formally used to usher visitors in and out. While there were plenty of walkers inside the fence there was no shortage of them outside either which made this dangerous.

"You realize everyone at the Alamo died, right?" T yelled, staking a walker in the head with a busted arrow.

"Now whose glass is half empty?" I sprung forward, dipping under the outstretched hands of a walker and coming up behind it, slamming my knife into the base of their skull before spinning around and kicking another in the side of the head. I knelt down, grabbing her filthy, blood soaked hair and turning her head sideways as I plunged a knife into her temple. Around me everyone was engaged in similar situations as we fought to protect Rick's back while he worked.

"Watch the backside!" Daryl yelled.

"Got it Merida!"

I ran in front of Beth and Carl, throwing a knife into the head of an approaching walker. Grabbing another knife from my waist I threw two more, dropping the walkers in rapid succession. I dashed forward, eyes alert as I knelt down, retrieving my knives and using the dead walker's clothes to wipe off the gore. Glancing behind me I saw Rick had finally opened up a big enough hole for everyone to crawl through. Daryl went first providing cover on the other side.

"Hurry, hurry!" Rick called to T who turned swiftly, falling through the hole with the grace of a drunken ballerina. "Alex!"

Walking backwards towards him I ducked through, Glenn and Daryl pulling the chain wide before the two of them quickly used some cord to tie up the now exposed entrance once I was clear. The interior walkway was lined with twenty foot high chain-link fences with barbed wire at the top. Scanning the walkway I saw no walkers inside this portion of the fencing, but the noise of our entrance attracted most walkers trapped inside the grassy prison yard. They converged on our position with a litany of hungry snarls as they tried in vain to grab a hold of us through the small holes in the fence.

Once Glenn finished closing the opening I made my way down the gravel path towards the gate leading directly into the yard. Daryl was on my right, the group following close behind as we took care to stay in the absolute center of the walkway thus avoiding the walkers grabbing at us from either side. I noticed more than a few civilians inside the prison, their clothing a dead giveaway and knew that was a problem we would eventually have to address, but one catastrophe at a time.

Swinging open an unlocked gate I ran inside with my PPQ ready. There were no walkers in this section either but we reached a dead end, the gate in front of us the last one before you entered the overrun yard and the prison behind it. I walked the fence line, peering inside at the main prison gate with a grimace. This place had potential, but to even begin to realize it someone was going to have to shut that gate.

"It's perfect," Rick whispered and I found myself nodding even though he was talking to himself. "If we can shut that gate, prevent anymore from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers and take the field by the night."

The walkers lining up along the fence were steadily growing as they gnawed on the metal, trying to eat their way through. I agreed with his assessment, but judging by the look on everyone's face they had their doubts. Rick needed to work on his motivational speaking.

"How do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked.

"I'll do it." Glenn and I said at the same time before looking at each other.

"No." Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

Her was voice scared while his was furious. I rolled my eyes, looking at him expectantly. Did he expect the gate to magically close itself? I crisscrossed my hands in front of me, closing my eyes and bobbing my head dramatically just like I'd seen on I Dream of Jeannie, but sure enough when I looked back at the gate it was still open. Daryl, never one to appreciate my humor, flipped me off.

"It's a suicide run," Maggie added, stepping in front of her boyfriend, her face pale.

"I'm the fastest." Again, Glenn and I spoke as one. It was worth noting, he was _not_ the fastest. We raced a few weeks ago and I won so I was throwing the bullshit flag on this one. "Stop it!" we both shouted at each other, reeling back as we continued to parrot each other's words. This was getting freaky.

"No, Glenn, Maggie and Beth draw as many as you can over there." Rick pointed towards the far end of the gravel path. "Pop them through the fence. Daryl and Alex go back to the other tower. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot go with them. Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower." Carl muttered a tired OK before running off as did everyone else. I continued to stand there eyeing Rick with more than a little doubt. "I'll run for the gate." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself he could do it and that didn't sit right with me. When he turned and saw me still standing there he stopped. "What?"

"You are not even a little fast," I told him, taking a long, hard look at his pointy cowboy boots. "Especially in those."

"I'll make it."

I looked behind him at the walkers, shaking my head. "Maybe, but you could also get dead. You should let me do it."

He stepped forward and I could tell by the look on his face he'd already made up his mind. "I need you in the tower to cover me. You and Daryl are our best shots, and if I don't make it they'll need you."

All of that was true, but it didn't make me like the plan any better. "Ease up Negative Nancy. One of us with a glass half empty is more than enough." Just ask T. "Besides, I'm sure you'll make it, even in your high heels."

He gave me a small smile. "I'd rather die in high heels than deal with Daryl if I send you in there."

"Please, he's a teddy bear," I snorted, handing him a coil of rope and chain to lock the gate.

"Maybe with you," he alleged, wrapping the coil around his fists as gave him another look, my lips pulled thin before jogging to my assigned tower. I heard the others calling out as they ran along the gravel path below trying to draw the walker's attention away from Rick so he could make the mad dash to the gate unnoticed. I quickly climbed to the top of the tower making my way around to the side facing the interior of the yard.

"Took ya long enough," Daryl grumbled, his tone making it clear he knew why.

"Stopped for a water break." He rolled his eyes at me, looking back down at the yard.

"Dumb ass idea, ya going for the gate."

I pulled back from my rifle. "Are you doubting my catlike abilities?"

"Doubtin' yur common sense."

"Oh, well in that case."

I tucked my rifle into my shoulder, peering through the scope, finding Rick as he walked towards the gate. Lori stood beside it, ready to open and subsequently close it. I held my breath as the couple stood closer than they had in months. Oh sweet, lord, baby Jesus, let them keep it together for a few more minutes.

"Last piece of jerky says they don't say shit," Daryl wagered, his crossbow held high as I peeked at him. I looked back through my scope, taking in Lori's distraught features as she looked at her husband with such longing it tore at my heart. Men, they just didn't get it.

"Oh you are so on Hanna." I could already taste the jerky.

Rick paused at the gate, and I froze, trying to use the Force to _make_ him speak. I needed that jerky more than I needed an orgasm and I _really_ needed an orgasm. He nodded briefly at his wife and I saw his mouth move a fraction of an inch before she swung the fence open.

"Ha! When this is over you better hand it over."

"He didn't say nothin'."

"He said 'OK'. I saw him."

I felt his gaze on me, but kept my focus on Rick. "Yur a damn liar Red."

"Don't pout Hawkeye. It doesn't look good on you." Which was a miracle in itself because Daryl looked great in everything, and even better in nothing.

I thought I heard him mutter "crazy" under his breath, but ignored it, instead tracking Rick's progress as he rounded an overturned bus. He started running up the gravel road, his ladies footwear clanking against the pebbles as he shot a walker to his left straightaway. Sayonara stealth. I lined up a shot, squeezing the trigger and killing the walker. Immediately I saw another lunging for him on the left and took that one down as well.

"Leave some for the rest of us Red."

"Stop pussy footing around then."

Rick sprinted for the gate as the group on the ground plunged their weapons through the fence, killing any walker's stupid enough to venture close. Daryl's posture tensed beside me right before he let an arrow fly, taking down a walker only inches from sinking his teeth into Rick. I saw him swallow hard as he gave a subtle nod of gratitude towards our tower before continuing forward.

"How's that for pussy footin'?" he taunted.

"How many arrows you got left Katniss?"

"Bolts."

"Children," Carol scolded from the other side of the tower. "Stop bickering."

I threw Daryl a wink and he smirked before we both got back to business. That wasn't arguing. It was foreplay, redneck style. I heard Hershel and Carl firing from the other tower and watched as walkers fell one-by-one around the yard. We were one fine-tuned machine. I pitied the fool who tried to take our Alamo. Just as I was patting myself on the back for being such an excellent teacher Carol squeezed off a round that was a millimeter away from relieving Rick of a few toes. He skidded to a stop, glancing towards her with a scowl.

"Sorry," she called out as Daryl and I stopped, starring at her. "It was an accident."

"I'm suddenly glad Rick's the one going for the gate," I muttered, taking out another walker.

As Rick approached the gate I noticed the walkers in the yard start to lose interest in the group on the ground, their heads swiveling towards the fresh meat lurking just behind them.

"Oh shit," I said as I fired, killing a walker directly in front of Rick as he opened the main gate. The walker dropped in a heap allowing Rick the time to slide the gate closed, blocking the rest from escaping into the yard. He frantically wrapped the rope and chain around the fence in an effort to secure it without risking a bite in the process. No easy task. When he was done he jumped back, his body poised to flee if the lock failed, but it didn't, holding strong even against the sizeable number of the dead pushing at it from the other side. The group in the yard had long since abandoned our people on the ground and were all headed for Rick. I fired two shots in rapid succession, clearing a path for him to the closest tower door. He bolted for it, killing a walker with his pistol before swinging the door open, running inside and slamming it closed behind him.

"He did it," Carol said, her voice emotional.

"Light it up!" Daryl shouted, a signal to fire without discrimination.

The sound of gunfire was like music to my ears we took aim at the dead, decimating the population in the yard. Our shooting was precise and effortless as we systematically eliminated the dead in our newfound home. My heart swelled with pride as I watched Beth take down a walker without the slightest flinch when her weapon kicked back. We were one badass group of motherfuckers.

I couldn't contain my smile as I shot walker after walker, dropping them like a bad habit. When the last one was down I lowered my rifle, glancing at Darryl who was also taking in the scene. As if feeling my gaze he turned a small smile on his dirty face and without even realizing it I was moving to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He put one arm around my waist, tugging me closer. I felt the stubble from his beard as it scratched against my face as he burrowed into me. It was heaven.

"You guys are so cute I can't stand it," Carol commented from behind us with a chuckle, a wistful look on her face.

Daryl jerked away immediately, an apologetic look on his face. We had been "together" close to six months, but he was still shy showing PDA in front of anyone. I understood completely. Six months of "together" was nothing compared to a lifetime of ingrained behavior. There were even times he was shy when we were alone. It was a process and he'd come so far that I would never dream of chastising him for falling back on old habits. I gave him a soft smile, letting him know I understood and his shoulders relaxed.

"Fantastic," Carol marveled as we exited the tower, making our way around the base just as Hershel and Carl emerged.

"Nice shootin'," Daryl complimented Carol and she beamed at his praise, as well she should. If you thought he was shy when it came to PDA it held nothing on compliments. They were damn near non-existent. That was only the second one on record to date.

"I particularly liked the part where you almost shot Rick," I teased.

She shoved me playfully, my word not coming close to diminishing her good mood. She deserved it. From what I was told her husband was a real piece of work which was a polite way of saying he was a twatwaffle. He'd never praised her a day in his life and spoke more with fists than words if the stories were any indication. I was glad he died before I met these people. Rick tended to frown on killing people in your group, Shane notwithstanding, and my day was already pretty hectic without having to worry about hiding dead bodies.

Hershel squeezed Daryl's shoulder briefly, a smile on the old man's bearded face and I relaxed or got as close to relaxing as this world allowed, but really, if Hershel was smiling what could possibly be wrong? Answer, nothing. I grinned watching Carl hop around with a carefree look most children inherently possessed, but I hadn't seen on him for months. We made our way to Lori who was standing by the gate, holding it open for us.

"You OK?" Carol asked the superhuman woman. I was wrong about Wonder Woman. Lori had the coolest superpower. She grew humans.

"Haven't felt this good in weeks," she answered with a tired smile. Daryl put a hand briefly on her shoulder as he passed, but I paused in front of her, looking her up and down critically.

"No shit?" Lori and I had an understanding. She didn't lie to me when it came to her and Nugget's and I didn't teach Carl new cuss words on purpose.

"Really," she promised and I glanced down at her enormous belly, rubbing it for luck like it was my own personal rabbit's foot.

"Hang in there Nugget."

She groaned, "Stop calling my child Nugget."

"Lori, it's been nine months. It's practically the kids name at this point. You're gonna have to learn to live with it." She laughed and I grabbed her arm keeping her steady as we made our way forward, the hoots and laughter of the group music to my ears.

"We haven't had this much space since we left the farm," Carol yelled, running forward.

Carefully I maneuvered Lori around the throng of dead walkers, stopping to smash the head of one with my heel of my boot that twitched a little too much for my liking. "Place could use some redecorating."

She hummed in agreement, cradling her belly as a walker groaned from beside us. Glancing over my shoulder I saw it was barely able to raise its head off the ground, and then Glenn was there, driving a metal rod through its head. T laughed as he spun in a circle like a little girl, arms spread wide in victory and I couldn't contain my own happiness. We were far from done, but this was a start. It was a small victory, but it was a hell of a lot more than we had this morning.

It took the rest of the day to get the cars staged outside the fence and the supplies transported inside our safe zone. When daylight faded into twilight Rick put a stop to the moving effort, thank god, and I found myself on the top of an overturned bus with Daryl. He was diligently keeping watch, pacing back-and-forth like a prowling panther while I was on my back, staring up at the stars on the cloudless night. Everyone else, minus Rick who was walking the fence for the zillionth time looking for holes, was gathered around a small fire a hundred yards away enjoying dinner.

"Is that Orion's belt?" I asked, pointing up at the sky.

He stopped pacing, glancing up. "It's the big dipper."

"Huh."

"Ya suck at star gazing." True.

"No one's good at everything." He grunted which probably meant I _really_ sucked at star gazing. "Is that Sagittarius?"

He looked up again, "Ya realize I have no idea where yur pointin'."

"Right there," I huffed, leaning up to point higher like it would somehow help him pick out the exact group of stars I was looking at.

"That don't help." When I gave him a dark look he sighed, looking skyward. "No, it ain't Sagittarius. It's the little dipper." Really? It didn't look like a dipper at all.

"You're right, I suck at this," I conceded, letting my head drop.

"Why ya up here if ya ain't gonna help with watch?" He pretended to be annoyed, but deep down I knew he didn't mind. Really, really deep down.

"I'm keeping you company."

He grunted again which meant "I'm glad", probably. He resumed his pacing and I went back to trying figure out why the big dipper looked more like a fairy riding a dragon. Maybe it was those mushrooms Lori handed out at lunch. That woman's botany skills needed work. Last week she mistook poison oak for cilantro.

"Ya did good today Red," Daryl mumbled under his breath, his eyes watching me. Rolling my head to the side so I could look at him I smiled. Two compliments in one day, unprecedented. One more and I was having Hershel check him out just to be on the safe side.

"I'm a gamer." I could smell the cooked food wafting towards us from the campfire, and felt my stomach rumble in response. "I'm so hungry my belly thinks my throat's been cut." Daryl tripped and I sat up slightly, my elbows supporting me as my mouth dropped open. "I got it right, didn't I?"

That was the only plausible explanation. Daryl didn't trip, he didn't stumble, and he didn't fall, ever. He would probably land on his feet if you threw him off a skyscraper so his misstep could mean only one thing. He righted himself, glowering at me for a moment before his eyes focused back on the trees in the distance assessing whether or not they were likely to attack before dawn.

"I did!" I raised my arms in triumph. Finally! It only took nine months and several thousand tries, but I'd finally successfully spoken my first words in hillbilly. This must be what parent's felt like when their child spoke for the first time. My eyes were even getting a little misty.

"Even a blind hog finds a root now and then," he said dryly, his back to me. And, just like that I was back to square one.

"Am I the root or the hog on this redneck farm?" He sent me a sexy smirk and I gulped. Who cared about hogs and roots when you had a hot redneck three feet away? "You know, you make that horse blanket look good babe."

"It's a poncho," he corrected, self-consciously adjusting said blanket. I shivered more from his proximity than the chill in the air, but he noticed and immediately began shrugging off the heavy garment. "Here."

"I'm fine, keep your horse blanket."

"Ya ain't fine. I can see ya shivering from here, take it." He was holding it out and I took it more because I didn't want to argue than because I actually needed it. The blanket settled over my shoulders and I instantly felt warmer. It smelled like him and it took Herculean willpower not to bury my nose in the fabric and inhale the intoxicating scent like a total creeper.

"Think we can make this work?" I asked as I lay back down, tilting my head sideways to see if that made the little dipper look less like a cowboy riding a bull. Nope.

"I don't know." I heard both doubt and hope in his voice. I felt the same way. "Still a long way to go."

"Yeah, but it's a start."

"It's a start," he agreed.

I heard someone struggling to climb up the bus before a single hand grabbed the edge and shoved a plate forward. It had to be Carol. Only she would take time out of her own meal to bring food for others. Daryl made his way over, watching as she did her best to pull herself up, but after several more grunts and one yelp of pain he finally slung his crossbow and bent down to hoist her rest of the way up.

"It's not much, but if I don't bring y'all something you won't eat at all," she said as Daryl picked up one of the plates. She moved around him, handing me the other as I sat up, giving her an appreciative smile.

"Yeah, I guess little Shane over there's got quite the appetite." I choked on my first bit of food, covering my mouth with my hand as I coughed trying to dislodge it.

"Don't be mean," Carol chastised, no real heat behind her words. "You're rubbing off on him." She directed the second part at me and I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Please, he wasn't house broken when I found him." Daryl kept eating with one hand and flipped me off with the other, eyes never leaving his plate. "See."

Carol crossed her arms over her chest, gazing out at the group around the fire with a thoughtful look. "He's gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would, I'll give him that."

I kept my face buried in my plate, remembering another night a long time ago when she begged for Daryl and I to leave with her. Well, she begged Daryl to leave with her. I just happen to be sitting beside him. She hadn't believed in Rick then, hadn't seen the man or the leader I knew he was capable of becoming.

"Shane could never have done that."

"You mean because he was psychotic or too busy impregnating Lori?" I asked, frowning at my already empty plate.

"You saw it even then?"

"You didn't?"

If you didn't know Shane was a few fries short of a Happy Meal it was because you didn't want to. She shrugged, a funny look on her face I couldn't place, before she started rolling her shoulders with a tiny frown and a groan of pain.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked.

"The rifle, that kickback, I'm just not used to it," she answered, her hand massaging her achy joints.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion as I looked between the two of them. Oh no she wasn't. I set my plate down, opening my mouth to stop this nonsense before it could go any further, but Daryl was already moving.

"Come here," he told her, his own plate discarded at his feet. He licked his fingers, motioning for her to turn around so he could rub her shoulders and my mouth opened so wide it hit the bus. But before he could even start the massage Carol burst out laughing, moving away and pointing at me with a shit-eating grin.

"I told you," she laughed.

I stood up, hands on my hips as I glared at her. "That doesn't count." Daryl stood between us with a bewildered look on his face. His head bobbing back-and-forth as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Don't pout Alex. It doesn't look good on you."

"The fuck?" Daryl hissed, irritating at being left in the dark.

"Just a little wager." The way she said it made me want to push her off the bus, but I didn't get the chance as Daryl rounded at me, his eyebrows lodged somewhere in his hairline.

"It was...nothing," I stuttered, suddenly wishing I had teleportation powers.

"Alex bet I couldn't get you to flirt with me."

Daryl's face went slack for about a second as he processed her statement, but once his brain caught up his confused look was replaced with one that could kill a man without firing a single shot. Oh shit.

"That's not what I said," I clarified, pointing at the woman who was most likely going to get me killed, but before I could explain Daryl cut in.

"I ain't flirting with ya," he told Carol, taking a measured step away from her and almost falling off the bus.

"See, he doesn't know how to flirt so that..." I waved my hands in the air between them. "Doesn't count." I thought I was making it better, but the word vomit spilling out of my mouth was only digging my grave deeper.

"The hell you mean I can't flirt?" I opened my mouth and closed it a few times looking over his shoulder at Carol for help, but she just grinned at me. Bitch.

"Hanna, come on, flirting isn't exactly in your wheelhouse." Not that I cared. I found it oddly charming. He crossed his arms over his massive chest and glared at me, disagreement written all over his face. "Babe, gutting a squirrel and offering me the innards isn't flirting. It's not even food."

He pinned me with a narrowed look that promised retribution before turning around and dismissing us both. "Better get back."

I shot Carol the finger and she coughed into her hand to cover a laugh before glancing around the bus an evil gleam in her eye. Oh crap, this wasn't over. She was the human equivalent of a tornado that disappeared briefly into the sky only to touchdown again and destroying everything its path. I physically braced myself for the impact and inevitable flying debris.

"Pretty romantic," she noted, pointedly looking between the two of us. Oh this was war. "I'll keep the others distracted if you two wanna screw around."

The murderous look on my face transformed to one of absolutely euphoria before I could finish blinking. Now that I knew she wasn't still attempting to unsuccessfully flirt with Daryl I loved the idea. I'd deal with the raging (completely irrational) jealousy that had me contemplating killing one of my best friends and burying her in a shallow grave where no one would find her later. Much, much later, like after we screwed around on the bus later.

"Absolutely."

"Pfft." Daryl and I said at the same time. My shoulders deflated as he spun around to face me.

"Really?" I whined.

He made a point of looking at Carol like I was somehow unaware she was standing three feet away. When that didn't erase the blank look on my face he actually pointed at the group sitting less than 100 feet away. I sighed, letting his rational argument override my need for sexy time.

"You know, when you like someone you do things for them Neytiri. Things like giving them orgasms. Feel free to replace that with squirrel guts on my Christmas wish list."

By the way the vein in his head was bulging nothing good was about to happen, but he somehow managed not to strangle me, opting instead to start climbing down. "I'll go down first," he told us both as he stepped over the side.

"That's what I'm talking about," I sighed dreamily

"Even better," she smiled.

My self-preservation mechanism should have kicked on in that moment, but it was out of order permanently. I had no idea what Carol's excuse was. Daryl paused, shooting us both a withering glare, but I didn't miss the excitement dancing in his heated gaze. It wasn't so much that I was horny all the time as Daryl was just too sexy for his own good.

"Stop," he barked and Carol held her hands up in surrender. It made my skin tingle. Turned out my flirting was broken too.

I let Carol go next, trying to buy as much time as possible before facing my redneck. Once Carol was safely back on solid ground and striding towards the group I slung my rifle over my shoulder, climbing down the bus with sure footing. I didn't need help, but felt Daryl's strong arms wrap around my waist regardless, pulling me off the bus and lowering me to the ground despite my protests.

We were obscured from the view of everyone as he spun me around in his arms, pushing me against the underside of the bus, his body pinning me in place. His eyes darted all over my face as he reached forward, cupping the back of my head and drawing me to him. My breathing was coming fast and shallow, my legs weak, as he held me up, moving in what seemed like slow motion. I wanted to grab him and yank him closer so we could get it on, but was paralyzed by the feel of his body rubbing against mine in all the right places.

He paused when our lips were only inches apart causing me whimper in protest which made him grin before he finally closed the distance, his mouth solid and warm as it covered mine. I could taste the lingering scent of smoke as his tongue darted in my mouth, tangling with my own. I wrapped my arms around his neck, desperate to eliminate any distance between us as he nipped at my bottom lip, sending me into a frenzy.

He pulled away so suddenly I stumbled forward, my lips swollen from the kiss, face flushed and body aching for a release only he could provide. Steadying myself I looked at him in question only to find him leaning casually against the bus, feet crossed at the ankles looking entirely unaffected, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I shook my head trying to get my brain to reboot. I was officially confused and extremely horny. Was he really going to kiss me _like that_ and then stop? This wasn't going to end with me singing the hallelujah chorus?

"Can't flirt, huh?" Before I could say a word he turned on his heel, walking away without a backwards glance.

I stood speechless watching the retreating angle wings on his vest. I had to admit I was impressed. Pissed, but impressed. Clearly my Padawan's skills were developing faster than I originally anticipated. Not a problem. Like the old Chinese Proverb said, _'If payback was a bitch and revenge was sweet than I would be the sweetest bitch you would ever meet'_. In the meantime I would handle the situation like any woman denied a ride on the O-train.

"Jackass!"

* * *

 **Well, they are officially at the prison. Da, da, da! What do you guys think? I'm trying to stick with the major elements of the show and insert Alex in a way that is believable. Is it working?**

 **I will be changing some minor things and a few major things as I go along and I hope that's OK. Sometimes it's difficult to get just the right mix.**

 **Lots more where this came from. Hope you're all as excited as I am!**


	21. The Only Easy Day was Yesterday

**The Only Easy Day was Yesterday**

The next morning six of us who made up the raiding party stood outside the main gate leading to the interior of the prison. Clearing the yard was no walk in the park, but it was shaping up to be a veritable spa day compared to what lay ahead. I tried for a solid five minutes to count all the walkers just beyond the gate, but there too many and if I was being honest it wasn't the one's I could see that had me worried. This place had more blind spots than Ray Charles. We were about to run headfirst into an urban battleground with a multitude of unknowns using a force with limited experience and less than ideal weaponry. It reminded me a little too much of Iraq and I knew firsthand how that worked out.

"Ya good?" Daryl asked me softly, coming to a stop next to me.

I cracked my neck, eyes never leaving the prison. "I don't want to adult today."

His face scrunched up in confusion. "Ain't gotta go. Ya earned a break."

I chuckled. There was a better chance I'd use the expired condom tucked in his back pocket than let them go in there without me.

"Let's go Rambo, timeout's over." I pulled two knives from my sheath, striding towards Hershel who was manning the main gate.

"You ready?" the old man asked us. They freakin' better be because as soon as he opened that gate it was on, ready or not.

T's eyes were hard as he held one of Daryl's broken arrows in his bear claw sized hand, his body rigid, ready for battle. Glenn looked more worried about Maggie than himself, his eyes constantly darting to her every few seconds. I nudged his foot, giving him "a look", silently reminding him he couldn't protect her if he was dead. Rick was in the lead looking about as scary as I'd ever seen him. That face meant one thing, and one thing only, we were taking this prison or we were gonna die trying.

In the words of Daryl Dixon, now was as good a day as any.

Katniss and I were bringing up the rear. Our job to protect the group's six. I swallowed hard, sneaking a look at him. He was already watching me and I unconsciously shifted closer to him, the back of our hands brushing. It shocked me when he grabbed my hand, his own steady as he squeezed firmly, a serious look on his face. The meaning was clear.

 **Stay alive.**

I nodded, squeezing back, my own message crystal clear.

 **You too.**

Hershel unchained the fence, sliding it open as Rick and T advanced inside quickly, both stabbing walkers immediately as everyone else followed.

"Daryl, Alex," Rick yelled, a brief nod to our exposed flanks. We moved silently, him to the right and me to the left, taking down the walkers attempting to box us in.

Our group moved as a unit, a small circle with our backs to each other as we carefully made our way forward. From behind me I heard grunts and curses every time someone was forced to break ranks, lunging forward to take down a target before hastily jumping back in formation. I thrust my knife into the head of a walker in front of me and was rewarded with a spray of blood that coated my arms and tank top. Nasty. Laundry day was gonna be a real bitch this week. We should probably consider just calling these clothes a loss and burning them with the pile of dead walkers.

The rest of the group hollered and shouted from the fence line, doing their best to gain the attention of the walkers, but with fresh meat within arm's reach it was wasted effort. The walkers closing in around us were steadily growing, and I could practically feel the need to lash out and create some space pulsating through the group.

"Keep it tight!" I called out as I pounced on another walker before backtracking to the group. Our phalanx only worked if we stayed together, covering each other's weak spots which in turn kept us all safe.

Rick moved forward, slaying walkers as he went, our progress measured as the groans and snarls of the dead got louder. There was an old military saying, slow was smooth, smooth was fast. The concept boiled down to movement. Move too slow and you got pinned down. Move too fast and you risked being surrounded and outflanked. High stress situations led to rash decisions and rash decisions led to unnecessary casualties. It was the team that maneuvered somewhere between a walk and a run, underscored by quick but careful footsteps with weapons rhythmically scanning the battlefield that lived to fight another day. We may be moving across the prison like a proverbial tortoise, but we were a breathing proverbial tortoise and that was what mattered.

I walked backwards, careful to check the walkers at our feet ensuring they were dead before stepping over them. The last thing I needed was a bite to the ankle. Today may be a good day to die, but it didn't mean I wanted to. Halfway down a narrow section of the concrete walkway T broke away from the group, running towards discarded riot gear.

"Don't break rank!" Rick yelled to him, but he was already gone, picking up the shield and using it to knock down a walker. Maggie sprung forward to cover him, slamming her machete into its head with an impressive war cry. You go girl.

"Goddamn it T, stay with us. If you're out of position it leaves someone else exposed," I reprimanded, ducking between two walkers as I thrust my knives into the back of their heads at the same time.

"We're almost there," Rick stated as we approached a small door beside a set of stairs. He pushed the unlocked door open, T poised to strike behind him, but there was nothing there so he continued. He took one step then jumped back, mumbling a curse as he motioned for us to hold. Everyone flattened themselves against the wall as Daryl pulled his crossbow from his back scanning the area we just cleared. The sheer volume of moaning coming from around the corner pretty clearly illustrated there was a sizeable force of walker's only feet from our current location. I knew getting up this morning was a waste of time.

I crept forward slowly, meeting Rick's eyes. "No time like the present," I whispered just as a group of walkers stumbled into view wearing riot gear.

I groaned as I examined the armor covering every exposed inch of their bodies. This would make killing them twice as hard with three times the risk. We needed to get close, really close. Our best bet would be bending their heads forward or back so we could sink the knife in at the base of their skull or under their chins. On the plus side at least their faces were covered with a plastic shield which would give us _some_ protection from their snapping jaws.

Once they spotted us they immediately began shuffling our way with a chorus of animalistic growls. I almost lost my breakfast when I noticed their faces peeling off their skeleton like melting wax underneath their gear. The process accelerated by the oven like heat that was Georgia. Daryl shot an arrow, but it just bounced off the face shield before skittering to the ground.

"Really Legolas?" I said in exasperation as I moved forward, eyes assessing the approaching walkers. I danced around them with ease, their movements slow and uncoordinated, coming up behind him and wedging my knife into his skull just beneath the helmet. I wasted no time jerking it out, already focused on the next one coming for me. I crouched down low, sweeping my leg out and catching the walker at his ankles. He went down in a heap, wiggling around on the ground like a turtle stuck on his shell, and I used my foot to roll him over, pressing my knee into his back to hold him in place while I finished the job. I heard the others move forward with a yell, but the sound of knives ricocheting off the protective gear made me want to groan.

"You can't cut through it!" I screamed, racing around a set of walkers dressed in riot gear, careful to avoid the talons they called fingernails. I was panting as I slammed the heel of my boot into the knee of one while I slashed at another. "Aim for the base of the skull or under the chin!"

"Alex!" Rick hollered, calling my attention to an unlocked gate not far away. A few dozen walkers were just on the other side, squeezing and climbing over each other as they filed in, attracted by the noise and our scent. I finished off the walker in front of me, sprinting towards him as he sliced the head of one clean in half. We had to close that gate or we'd be overrun in a matter of seconds.

Without even stopping I pivoted on my heel, swinging a roundhouse kick into the head of the closest walker, driving him back, his body tumbling into several others. It wasn't much, but it gave Rick the room he needed to grab the gate and pull it closed, Daryl appearing out of thin air locking it with a chain. The thin metal of the fence groaned, the combined weight of the dead pushing from the other side seemingly too much. The three of us held our breath's, leaning back slightly as we waited to see if it held.

"We're good," Rick stated, the flimsy looking gate still upright despite the massive pile of walkers.

Turning around quickly I saw Maggie and Glenn trying to take out the remaining walkers sporting riot gear. A large one reached for Maggie, causing her to stumble back and all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears as I ran for her. Grabbing the walker I wrapped my leg around the arm that was moments from grabbing her, bending my leg at the knee and twisting hard. The sound of bones snapping was drowned out by the walker's wails as he fell forward, exposing the sensitive spot at the back of his neck.

"Now!"

Maggie didn't hesitate, springing forward and sinking her knife into his skull. He dropped dead and I attempted to unwrap my leg from around his arm, but the appendage tore off at the socket, falling to the ground beside him with a wet thwack.

"Eww," I gagged as Maggie covered her mouth with her hand, both of us taking a moment to compose ourselves before we barfed.

She turned towards Glenn and T, eyes wide. "Did you see that?"

They stared at us in shock. I was pretty sure everyone saw that and if they didn't see it they certainly heard it. It was hard to miss. Though whether they were staring in shock at our mad skills or the appendage that ripped off like we were playing with a Mr. Potato Head was anyone's guess. A lone walker lunged from around a corner, startling the shell-socked duo. Glenn reached forward, pushing the face shield back so T could plunge his arrow under its chin and into its brain.

"Nicely done," I commented already walking away, but something snarled behind me. I gasped, spinning around wildly in an attempt to confront my would-be attacker, but before I could even finish my twirl Daryl put him down with a vicious stab to the back of its head. "Thanks."

His lips twitched in acknowledgment as he moved closer to me and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I may not need protection, but Daryl had yet to get the memo. Or more likely he simply didn't care.

A gurgling snarl drew our attention as we watched Rick kneel down, ripping a gas mask off a walker, trying to end his life a second time. When the walker's face sloughed off, sliding out of the mask and to the ground with a plop I didn't even try to hold it together. Sliding behind Daryl I hide my face in-between his shoulder blades, thinking about puppies, kittens and colorful rainbows. Rick cursed, dropping the mask and reeling back. There was a distinctive dripping sound as the mask lay on its side, the walkers face pouring out like a leaky faucet

"Oh hell no," I murmured, pulling at Daryl's shirt in an attempt to cover my ears and block out the sound.

"Damn," Daryl whispered. Even he sounded disgusted which meant shit was reaching epic proportions. "Ya gonna puke?"

I felt my stomach bubbling, my breakfast of beans lodged in my throat like lead bricks. "Hard to say, 70/30 at this point." When Rick sunk his blade into the walker's eye, cutting off the side portion of his head I amended my original estimate, "More like 90/10."

He chuckled, reaching back and grabbing my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as Rick _finally_ killed walker. He stood up, looking down at his hands in disgust. If he thought that was bad he should look at his shirt. There was no saving it. Laundry was officially cancelled. There weren't enough Tide Pods left in the whole world.

I glanced around the interior yard of the prison, dead walkers as far as the eye could see. The moans of the small herd locked behind the gate the only sound other than our ragged breathing. This was a better than average start, but there was no way we could stop here. My eyes darted around the yard and I frowned. There were too many unknowns to consider this secure, too many corners for walkers to hide in, too many possibilities for perimeter breaches in the already battered fence. We couldn't risk bringing everyone in until we cleared a larger portion. Until we were sure if was safe. Whatever that meant these days.

"Stop," Rick told Glenn who was heading to let the rest of the group in.

He hesitated, glancing around. "It looks secure."

"Looks can be deceiving," I told him, peeking around a corner and staring ominously at a metal door. It was like The Monty Hall Game Show – Horror Edition.

"Not from the look of that courtyard over there." Daryl was pointing behind the locked gate and I knew he saw the same thing I did. "And that's a civilian." Everyone looked down at the dead walker dressed like a Sunday school teacher.

"There's a hole somewhere," I added, stating the obvious. Probably lots of holes in lots of places.

"So the interior could be overrun with walkers from _outside_ the prison?" T asked. No one answered so I nodded and he groaned.

"Well, if there are walls down what are we going to do?" Glenn sounded defeated. "We can't rebuild this whole place."

"No, but inside there's less chance of being taken by surprise," I explained.

Rick nodded, looking around before saying, "We can't risk a blind spot. We have to push in."

Daryl and I were already moving with him, but it took the others a few seconds to gather their thoughts and strengthen their resolve.

"Hey, if it was easy someone would have done it by now," I told them with a wink.

"Your girlfriend's nuts. You know that right?" T asked Daryl.

"No shit."

I threw a glare over my shoulder just to let them both know I heard that, but it would take far more than a snide comment to ruin my quasi good mood. I was a little too excited than could be considered normal at the prospect of making this hellhole a home, but dreams didn't work unless you did. At least that was what my high school guidance counselor told me, all the time. She was also a thrice-divorced, middle aged woman with more cats than societal norms deemed acceptable so taking that advice with a grain of salt was wise.

We followed Rick through a steel cage and up a set of stairs to a door. He paused, looking over his shoulder at me. The sweat lining his brow and the rapid pounding of the pulse in his neck made me want sit him down, put his head between his legs and give him a bag to breathe into.

"Stand aside fearless leader."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't stop me as I positioned myself in front of the door. I could practically feel Daryl's need to protest tickling the back of my neck, but even he didn't have a leg to stand on. This was where I made my money. Entering and clearing confined spaces in hostile environments was something only I was trained to do. I paused to look at him. His stern face sending another warning shot across the bow that said should I decide to let my heart stop beating there would be hell to pay. I grinned at him which only caused him to scowl, more than usual, but he slide the door open for me as I held my knives in either hand, ready to rock n' roll. Unfortunately opening the door was like having sex for the first time. A lot of anticipation followed by mild disappointment.

Lucky for us there was a door behind door number one so we would get another shot at it. I shuffled forward, the group filing in behind me as I pushed on the solid, metal door. It swung open with a creak so loud I cringed, the sound worse than ringing a doorbell with a sleeping baby inside the house. I walked down a set of stairs leading into an open area that appeared to be some kind of breakroom. There were solid metal picnic tables bolted to the ground and metal benches bolted to the wall. I was sensing a theme here. It was homey, like the prison equivalent of a man cave except the space was dark, dingy and reeked of death. So actually just like a man cave.

Rick pointed to the corners of the room and the group dispersed to ensure our man cave was, in fact, vacant. We didn't find anything and Rick motioned towards the small guard tower off to the side of the room. I nodded, treading lightly with each step on the staircase in an effort to keep the noise to a minimum. It was a lost cause with all the noise Rick's high heels made clicking behind me. We stopped in front of a door, glancing at each other with skepticism before I shrugged and he opened it. We didn't find any walkers, but we found a dead guard who had clearly "opted out", his brain matter splashed across the bullet proof glass in front of him. I stayed back as Rick poked him with his knife just to be sure and when he didn't move we both relaxed, marginally.

"Cozy," I commented as Rick reached down to grab a set of keys off the dead guard.

He held them up and looked down at Daryl who nodding in approval. These would definitely come in handy. Not that we necessarily needed them. I could pick locks until the cows came home, but that took time and there might come a day when we didn't have that luxury. Plus, the thought of being the resident locksmith anytime someone wanted to go outside was not my idea of a good time. Rick used our newfound keys to unlock the door leading to the cellblock. Our man cave may be empty, but there wasn't a chance the rest of the prison would be. It was time to put our game faces on. I served with a guy who used to say if your feet weren't sore at the end of the day from kicking ass you hadn't done your job. Same principle applied here.

Daryl opened the door and we filled inside what I noted was Cellblock C, the letters painted in huge, white letters on the wall. There was trash everywhere and judging by the smell a good amount of dead people. Rick pointed towards the cells lining the bottom floor and Glenn, Maggie and T began systematically going through each one, checking to make sure they were empty and the dead people inside them were dead-dead.

I followed Daryl up a set of metal stairs to the second floor that housed another row of identical cells. A group of snarls caught our attention and we moved left towards the sound. A walker reached out from behind his locked cage, growling and foaming at the mouth, but we put our backs to the railing and slide by out of his reach. In the cell next door there was another live one and I looked at Daryl, pointing one finger at each cell. He sighed, pulling out a knife as we both took a step forward, plunging our weapons through the cracks in the door and into the walker's heads.

"Looks like two more rooms just opened up," I smiled at him as we looked at our dead walkers. He snorted and we both stepped back so Rick could unlock the cells. I sighed in exhaustion. It was a damn shame when killing walkers was the easy part. Now came the arduous process of stacking them up, carrying them out and burning the bodies. Maybe I could take Daryl's offer to sit out now that we were officially moving on to cleanup.

"Put your back into it," Daryl instructed as he grabbed the walker's feet. I strained as I pulled on the enormous man's shoulders trying to heft him up high enough to toss him over the railing.

"You know, that isn't helping," I grumbled as I continued to struggle.

"If you'd just pick the damn thing up and stop trying to avoid all the guts we would've been done an hour ago."

"I'm not touching that shit if I don't have to." Finally hoisting the body high enough to use the railing as leverage we pushed it over the side. It hit the ground below with a plop and now it was T's turn to groan as he tried to find somewhere to grab that wasn't…gooey so he could drag it out. "And don't think for a second you're cuddling with me looking like that."

"Ain't cuddling," he corrected and I snorted.

"Call it whatever you want Merida, but I promise you this." I leaned forward, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "You are not sleeping next to me until you've washed that funk off."

"Maybe I'll just sleep alone." That was so funny I almost peed my pants.

I shrugged, "OK, guess that means no boob action." His eyes got wide as his ears reddened in an adorable blush.

"I might clean up," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

I shook my head at him, my eyes dancing with mischief as Glenn escorting the others in. I leaned against the railing, looking down and plastering a semi-believable smile on my face. I was sure they had their doubts about making Cellblock C their permanent home, but a few potted plants, maybe a nice throw rug and we were be in business.

"What do you think?" Rick asked as he walked down the stairs.

"Home sweet home." Glenn clearly didn't see my vision. I needed to find a throw rug ASAP.

"For the time being," added Hershel with more than a little skepticism and I looked at Daryl.

"They have no Zen," I told him.

"Told ya."

"It's secure?" Lori questioned, her eyes taking in every inch of the place. Man, childproofing this place for Nugget was gonna be a real ass pain.

"This cellblock is," Rick answered.

"What about the rest of the prison?" I'm not sure why Hershel asked the question. The answer seemed obvious. No.

"In the morning we'll find the cafeteria and the infirmary."

Beth's timid voice echoed in the empty cellblock as she asked, "We'd sleep in the cells?"

My body tensed so hard and so fast I was surprised I didn't fall over the railing. It was apparent that was the plan, but until the young woman said it out loud the pieces didn't fall into place. It was like my brain refused to process the ramifications of living here as a means of protection. I turned slowly, the voices below fading to white noise as I stared at the empty cell block in front of me. The smell didn't register. The blood spattered walls were a side note. I could deal with all of that. It was the size that would be my undoing. It was a cage, a box, a prison, literally. My pulse was pounding as my breathing picked up and I tried to back up, but the railing stopped my panicked retreat.

"Red." Daryl's concerned voice sounded far away. I shook my head back-and-forth furiously and I saw his lips thin as he glanced down at the lower level before pulling me further down the path, away from prying eyes.

"I can't go in there." My vision was blurry as I took in too much oxygen, on the verge of passing out. Daryl's strong arms tugged me against him as I clutched at the back of his vest like I could crawl inside of him and hide. I hated this feeling of helplessness and utter desperation. I loathed that I was powerless to stop it.

"Calm down," he cooed, "I gotcha."

"Please don't make me." I pulled back, tears in my eyes as I looked at him, my eyes pleading.

He held my face in his hands, eyes steady, resolve unwavering. "Ya ain't gotta do nothin'. I'm right here. Yur gonna be fine."

His calm voice and solid presence covered me like a soothing blanket. He took several measured breaths in and out, watching me closely and I found myself matching my breathing with his. It worked, and after a few more seconds I felt the panic subside and my senses clear. What had felt like minutes or hours must have only been seconds as I heard the group still discussing the sleeping arrangements. Daryl took one more look at me before stepping away, leaning over the railing as he called down.

"I ain't sleeping in no cage. I'll take the perch."

No one batted an eye at his gruff announcement and in that moment something inside of me shifted. He found a way to not only keep me from facing my greatest fears, but shield my weakness from the group so I wouldn't have to explain anything I didn't want to. No one would think twice about us sleeping together. At this point us _not_ sleeping together would draw more attention. I had been wrong earlier. I may not need him to protect me, but I didn't mind it and if I was honest a part of me even liked it. It had been a long time since someone cared enough to even try.

For weeks I had a foreign, funny feeling in my chest. It was so strange, so alien, I almost sought out Hershel thinking I had contracted some kind of deadly disease. Only now did I realize how useless (and embarrassing) that conversation would have been. What had been murky and unclear before was now blindingly obvious as we stood in the middle of the cellblock, his body close to mine, his steadfast support so real I swore I could reach out and touch it. I finally saw what I had been feeling for exactly what it was.

Love.

I loved him.

I was _in_ love with him.

The realization was so unexpected, so overpowering I had to grab onto the railing to keep my feet under me. It was a strange sensation and I couldn't be 100% sure I was right since I'd never been in love before, but there were no other plausible explanations. Somehow, deep down, I just _knew_. My grandmother was right, there was no mistaking this feeling. I glanced at his retreating back and felt the stab of a thousand needles piercing my heart. At the same time a colony of butterflies fluttered in my stomach like they were clog dancing. I laughed, a beaming smile on my face and a powerful surge of happiness flooding my system to the point I almost felt high.

Oh yeah, this was definitely love. Either that or the worst case of indigestion known to man. Righting myself on the stairs I smothered my smile and shoved my feelings to the side, deciding to deal with them later (or never) as our job was far from over, but I still felt slightly lightheaded.

I loved him.

I was in love with Daryl-Freakin'-Dixon.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I had no idea what to do with that information.

When I got to the perch I found Daryl already dragging a mattress out of a cell. I moved to grab the other, but he stopped me, going back and pulling the one from the top bunk and dropping it down beside the first. I smiled at him as we pushed them together, both of us falling onto them in exhaustion. I think I may have even moaned a little it felt so good.

"I knew ya was full of shit," he said from beside me and I rolled over to face him.

"What are you caterwalking about?"

"Caterwauling," he corrected.

"Whatever." He grinned as I shifted closer, pulling me into his arms with a laugh. "What's so funny Legolas?"

"I'm still covered in walker blood and here ya are in my arms."

"Yeah well…" I trailed off, my eyes already closing. "You're filthy, I'm filthy."

"G'night Red."

"Goodnight Rambo."

I slept hard, curled in Daryl's arms the entire time. I don't think I moved an inch, but our alarm clock went off what felt like mere minutes later. Rick really needed a hobby and that hobby was sleep. He looked terrible and I glanced at Daryl who merely shrugged as we grabbed our weapons and followed him. He led us to a small table with an assortment of weapons, ammunition, guns and even grenades. I barely resisted the urge to jump for joy eyeballing the stockpile. Looks like Santa got my wish list after all.

"Oh my god I think I just came," I muttered, eyes wide as I moved towards the table, hands already reaching for my new toys.

"Young lady," Hershel scolded, but I was too busy trying deciding what to grab first to mumble my fake apology. Rick's eyes went wide, but T and Daryl didn't flinch as they kept inspecting the motherload. Daryl had heard me say much, much worse (or better depending on how you looked at it) and T was use to my weirdness.

"Not bad," Daryl commented.

"Not bad?" Understatement of the century.

"She's right, this is awesome," T said, inspecting an M4. Which he was holding upside down.

"No, unicorns are awesome. Foot massages are awesome. This…this is…"

Rick interrupted me with a nervous laugh, "We get it Alex. Maybe a little too well. It's exciting."

"Damn right it's exciting," I declared picking up a few flashbangs and a CS Triple Chaser. "I could singlehandedly liberate North Korea with the contents on this table." All movement stopped as the four men looked at me. I shrugged, stuffing a chaser into my pocket for a rainy day.

Rick shook his head, "We got flashbangs and CS Triple Chasers. Not sure how they'll work on walkers, but we'll take 'em."

I scoffed. Not sure how they'd work on walkers? The man had no vision sometimes. Daryl picked up a helmet, upended it and sending a river of gelatinous goo spilling onto the floor. I took a step away from him, reeling back as the smell singed off a few nose hairs.

"I ain't wearing this shit," he stated and I couldn't agree more. I wasn't sure why he even touched it. This time I was holding firm to the no boob action until he washed his hands, twice.

"Maybe we could boil 'em." T held up a glove that was covered in guts, blood and other things straight out of the pits of Hell.

"Ain't enough firewood in the whole forest. No," Daryl exclaimed.

"I'm with Oliver Queen. I don't care if Jesus himself scrubs it with holy water." I grimaced as a pile of flesh and bone plopped to the ground at T's feet. "No offense Hershel." The old man gave me a tired look, but didn't comment. He stopped trying to save my soul somewhere around Senoia.

"Besides, we got this far without 'em." Daryl picked up a baton, taking it for a test drive. It reminded me of my baton or rather Beth's, and I had to curl my hands into a ball to keep from snatching it away from him.

"Hershel." Carol's voice drew all our attention away from the table as she not–so-subtly nodded for him to follow.

"Everything alright?" Rick asked, his voice anxious. There was only one reason Carol would want Hershel and that reason was Lori.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about," she assured him before leaving.

I frowned at her back. She was lying. That was abundantly clear. Was something wrong with Nugget? I made a move to follow her, but Daryl grabbed my wrist, shaking his head and I stopped. I looked at Rick whose face mirrored my own, but unlike me he made no move to leave. Needing something to distract myself from the fucked-up-ness of that particular situation I started grabbing more weapons, strapping them to every inch of my body and when I was out of room I started shoving them into my pockets.

When I felt everyone's eyes on me I stopped, looking up. "Always be prepared."

T rolled his eyes, "Just leave some for the rest of us."

"Please, you just stick to what you know. Let the grownups handle this."

He shot me the finger and I instantly returned the gesture, both of us grinning. Rick and Daryl shook their heads as Glenn and Maggie walked in. I did my best to dissuade them from the tainted riot gear, but they insisted so I did my best to pick the pieces that were the least revolting. Which was no easy task mind you.

"You're not wearing any?" Maggie asked as I helped her strap on the leg guards.

I grimaced as she snapped the final buckle. "Honey, I'd rather douche with hot sauce than touch this crap."

She laughed as Glenn went stock still beside us, Daryl mumbling something about duck taping my mouth shut while he cleaned his crossbow for the millionth time in the corner. I watched Carl try on a helmet only to have the oversized equipment fall right off his small head. He smiled at Beth who grinned back at him. Ah, young love.

"Gimme that," Rick told Carl, taking the helmet from his hands. "I need you to stay put."

"You're kidding." Immediately I looked for an escape hatch in the small room not wanting to be anywhere near this meltdown.

"We don't know what's in there," Rick continued, "If something goes wrong you could be the last man standing. I need you to handle things here."

"Sure," Carl begrudgingly agreed with minimal protest.

I was impressed. That had gone better than I anticipated. Rick was one sneaky SOB. I agreed with his decision to leave Carl behind, but never in a million years did I think the kid would back down so easily. This was too dangerous and I didn't want to risk him, especially when we it was unnecessary. I still wasn't sure why we were taking Hershel. It wasn't that I doubted the old man's competency, but he was our only source of medical treatment and if he went down we'd all go down…eventually.

Rick handed Carl his keys. "Great, let's go."

Daryl and I led the way towards another cellblock, the hallway so dark we had to break out flashlights just to see a foot in front of us. Daryl unlocked a gate and I led us forward, knife in one hand, flashlight in the other. Pausing at a corner I glanced behind me to make sure everyone was through the door before continuing. There were dead bodies everywhere I looked, some lying on the ground where they fell while others were propped up against the walls like they struggled on for a time before the end.

"Be careful," I whispered as I crossed by one, careful to keep a distance. "Just because they look dead doesn't mean they are."

Some of the bodies were nothing but bones covered in scrapes of clothes. Judging by the decomposition of the bodies alone the prison must have fallen in the beginning of the outbreak. I still wasn't sure if that was good or bad for us. Only time would tell. I heard Glenn spray painting arrows on the wall behind us so we could find our way out of this maze just like Hansel and Gretel. The group kept silent, fanning out as we diligently checked every nook and cranny for walkers until we came to a T-intersection.

"Left or right?" I asked.

Rick nodded to the left, checking the right side as Daryl and I went left to clear our path. Again, there was nothing in the immediate vicinity and I let out another sigh of relief, but at this point I wished something would happen already. The suspense was going to kill me long before a walker did. Someone upstairs must be granting requests because I got my wish a few seconds later when Rick rounded a corner only to come face-to-face with a group of walkers.

"Go back. Go back," Rick urged as we all backpedaled. "Move!" We ran from the herd, Daryl in the lead as Glenn and I reached out to steady Hershel who tripped over a body.

"This way." I heard Daryl call out and pushed the old man gently towards his voice. Maggie screamed somewhere in the distance, but when I turned to see what was wrong I couldn't find her or Glenn. Instead all I saw was a wall of walkers cutting the hallway in half and separating us.

"Come on," Daryl urged, but I hesitated, wanting to go back for them. Rick took the decision out of my hands when he grabbed my arm, dragging me behind him and shoving me in a small electrical closet with what was left of the group.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie?" he asked.

I leaned against the wall, panting, "They got cut off."

"We have to go back," Hershel stated and I shook my head in agreement.

"Which way?" T asked no one in particular. When no one answered I shoved off the wall, taking a few deep breaths.

"Follow me," I told them. Scanning the hallway I led the group back to where I last saw the two, Hershel's hushed whispers reverberating off the walls as he called out desperately for his daughter. I heard a muffled voice and paused, holding my hand up to stop everyone. "Did you hear that?"

"Sounded like Glenn," T said and I pointed behind me.

Hershel heard it too because I saw him retreat back around a corner, calling out again. He was desperate, rushing to find his daughter and it made me nervous. We would find them, _we would_ , but only if we slowed down and proceeded with caution. Before I could catch up, slow him down, and come up with a plan a walker leaning against the wall sprung forward, grabbing his ankle and sinking its teeth in as he screamed in agony.

"Hershel!" I yelled, sprinting forward the rest of the way, but I was too late. I watched in horror as the creature pulled back, Hershel's tendons caught between his teeth like floss as he gnawed on them with his jagged teeth.

Rick pulled his pistol, firing a round at the walker, its body going limp. Hershel was screaming, begging for help as I fell on my knees next to him, Maggie and Glenn skidding to a halt just as I reached him. Maggie's face was white as she looked at me then down at her father, and I swallowed hard. My lips thinned as my mind raced, an internal clock counting down in my head as I desperately tried to figure out how to save him. Every second that passed the infection continued to spread through his veins like a wildfire burning out of control.

"Grab him!" I ordered, standing up. Rick and Glenn wasted no time hauling him up, dragging his limp body between them as I went to Maggie. She was unresponsive to my voice so I had to use both my arms to pull her up and lug her down the hallway. A walker came out of nowhere and a second later an arrow buzzed by my head so close I swore I felt the rush of wind as it passed, the walker flying back into the wall, dead. We came to another dead end, the doors locked by a pair of handcuffs and I screamed for T who raced forward, snapping them off and flinging them open. We rushed inside, Daryl closing the double doors behind us as Glenn and Rick gently laid Hershel on the ground.

"Use a knife!" Glenn screamed at Daryl as he and T tried to bar the doors.

I knelt down by Hershel as Rick tore away his pant leg revealing a huge chunk of flesh missing from his ankle. I took a deep breath before pulling off my belt and wrapping it around Hershel's leg right below his knee. Looping the belt through the buckle I pulled it tight, sending the man an apologetic look as he cried out in pain.

"Rick!" I yelled, snapping him out of his trance. His eyes found mine I flicked my chin towards the axe beside him and he swallowed hard, giving me a small nod. "Hold him down."

Glenn moved to Hershel's shoulders, pinning him in place as Maggie cradled her father's head in her lap. I pulled even harder on the tourniquet before strapping it down, blocking out the sound of his pain as I focused on trying to save his life. Rick picked up the small axe, looking at me with a pale face. I nodded at him with grim determination. It was this or he died. And even this might not save him, but we had to try. I leaned over Hershel's lower body, pinning his leg to the ground while trying to shield him from what we were about to do.

"There's only one way to keep him alive," Rick stated a split second before he swung the axe into Hershel's leg with sickening force. The man's screams brought tears to my eyes and I my stomach rolled, the axe slicing into his skin, the blade bouncing off the bone like a bat hitting a metal building.

"Again!" I screamed at him. We needed to sever his limb as fast as possible if there was any hope of stopping the infection from spreading and turning him.

Rick took another swing, hacking away at his leg like he was chopping firewood and I closed my eyes as blood spattered my face and chest. That wasn't anything new, but this was the first time the blood covering me wasn't a walker's or an enemy. It was the blood of a friend. The blood of family. After the third or fourth swing I heard Hershel's screams turn from mumbles to silence as his body finally succumbed to the trauma.

"Check his pulse," I instructed Glenn, "Make sure he's just unconscious."

"It's weak, threaded, but there." Glenn's voice sounded strangled, and I nodded. Weak and threaded was bad, but it was better than nothing. It took Rick several more swings to completely severe the limb and once he was done stepped back, face so white I thought he might pass out next.

"Oh," he said looking around in a daze like he wasn't sure where all the blood came from or what he did. I glanced down at the stub, blood pouring out of the ghastly wound and quickly covering the dirty floor. There was too much. "He's bleeding out."

"We need to apply pressure," I said already looking around for something to stem the flow. I met Daryl's eyes as I lay over the top of Hershel just as his head swiveled to the right, his blue orbs going deadly in an instant at whatever he spotted.

"Don't move," he ordered. I wasn't sure if he was talking to Rick or me.

I was going to assume he meant Rick because whatever put that look on his face wasn't something I was willing to let him face alone. The two of us sprang up at the same time as Rick ducked down. I had my PPQ aimed in front of me as Daryl mirrored my actions with his crossbow. He walked around Hershel's body as I stepped away from the unconscious man, my body going stiff at what I saw.

Five men, standing behind a metal grate, all very much alive.

"Holy shit," one of them mumbled.

My thoughts exactly.

* * *

 **Well that sure escalated quickly, right? How are you guys liking it so far? **I hope I'm doing this justice.****

 ** **Alex was hit with a bombshell, but I'm sure (or hoping) that's not news to anyone. Our emotionally repressed couple not so much. :)****

 **I just wanted to take a minute and tell everyone who has read, reviewed, favorite and/or followed thank you, truly. It means so much to know people are enjoying this and taking the time to write a review and come back week after week. It keeps me going and motivates me to always strive to get better, to find new ways to tell this story in a way you don't expect.**

 **So again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all.**

 **I hope you enjoy this latest addition!**


	22. End Game

**End Game**

"Who the hell are you?" one of the prisoners asked as Daryl and I inched forward.

"Not the parole board," I answered, pulling my spare pistol from the waistband of my jeans in an effort to cover as many bodies as possible.

"He's bleeding out. We gotta go back." Rick voice was urgent and commanding. I heard the others shuffling around, but I didn't take my eyes off the men in front of me. "Put pressure on the knee, hard!"

Maggie's quiet sobs as Rick kept shouting at her to push harder and harder was heartbreaking. That was her father lying there dying.

"Why don't y'all come on outta there. Slow and steady," Daryl instructed.

They complied without comment, too shocked at the scene playing out before them to argue. As the first man emerged I saw a gun tucked into the front of his pants and narrowed my eyes at him. He had long, greasy, black hair that was tied in a half ponytail and a stupid looking porn-stache. My spidey senses tingled, instantly weary of the man.

"What happen to him?" Porn questioned, his upper lip curling in distaste as he peered down at Hershel.

"He got bit," Daryl answered as the rest of the prisoners filed out, my anxiety skyrocketing every time another rounded the corner. How many were back there?

"Bit?" He sounded confused, like Daryl's answer made no sense to him and it became apparent in the seconds that followed these assholes had been locked in the pantry for some time. He made a move for his gun, pulling it from his pants and I stepped forward as T stood up, drawing his own weapon.

"Settle down hero," I hissed in warning, his eyes flicking to me, his aim following his eye line. The barrel of his pistol was now pointed in my direction. It was bad enough he pulled a weapon, but someone in the room whose name rhymed with barrel was not going to like that it was pointed at my head. Porn would be lucky to survive the next 30 seconds.

"You better put that the fuck down," Daryl snarled, his voice beyond lethal. The man's hand swiveled in his direction and I felt my own temper flare.

"Point that thing at him again and see what happens." Porn looked back and forth between us, unsure who was the bigger threat, but once his eyes examine every inch of my body he smirked slightly before aiming the gun back at Daryl. "Wrong choice."

"Sorry, but you don't look like much puta," he laughed.

"Oh man, that was the wrong move," T mumbled more to himself than Porn, his body bracing for the inevitable fallout, but I only smiled at him. Before he opened his mouth I was only going to kill him. Now I was going to have to hurt him too.

"Best shut yur mouth." Daryl's temper was verging on manic, his body vibrating he was so worked up. The hostility in the room was so thick I thought I might choke on it. The walkers pushed on the door and it groaned under their collective weight as Glenn raced past the inmates, frantically searching the kitchen for something to transport Hershel.

"Who the hell are you people anyway?" Porn asked.

"Don't look like no rescue team," one of the smaller inmates with reddish hair commented. He looked like Archie from the comic strip. If Archie was a convicted felon.

Rescue team?

"Come on, we gotta go!" Rick yelled and I could hear them straining to lift the unconscious man as Glenn raced by with a cart on wheels. "Come on, we need a hand here!"

Once they had him on the cart Rick hollered for T to get the door, and I nodded at him, letting him know it was OK to go.

"Alex, Daryl!" Rick yelled as they rushed through the door. I didn't move, my weapons still pointed at the men in front of me even as Daryl walked backwards towards the door.

"Let's go Red." Hesitantly I back up as Porn's weapon followed me every step of the way.

I paused at the threshold, sending him a wink. "Good luck pendejo."

Daryl and I trailed behind the others, covering our rear as they tried to navigate the maze of hallways back to Cellblock C. A walker dove at me from an unlocked door and I spun on my heel, the dead body flying past me as I pushed on his back, sending him face first into the wall. Ignoring the _splat_ of his face hitting the cement as I holstered my backup weapon before snagging a knife, sinking the blade deep into his head.

"Daryl!" Rick hollered at the same time the whiz of an arrow sounded in the hallway. The sound of a body dropping following seconds later.

"Red!"

"I'm good," I shouted, jogging to catch up. He pulled the arrow out of the walker, urging the group forward with a wave of his hand. I stayed in the back, taking out walkers and waiting on the prisoners. I knew they would follow. What other choice did they have?

"They won't be far behind," I whispered to Daryl as the group ran ahead of us. He nodded grimly. His eyes darted over his shoulder like saying their name would make them appear like Beetlejuice. Seconds later I spotted their shadows on a nearby wall. This wasn't fair. You had to say his name three times, right?

"Stop," Rick ordered, turning and taking in the stragglers.

"We don't have time for this," I stated, glancing down at Hershel who was still mercifully unconscious. Rick's swallowed hard as he looked down the hall then back at the old man. He was our main priority. We would deal with these asshats after we saved him, but we had to move.

"Go, go, go!" Glenn wasted no time following his command as he pushed the cart back towards the cellblock.

Daryl hastily unlocked the door to the man cave as we came barreling in like a bat out of hell, Rick screaming for someone to open the cellblock. I grimaced as I took in the massive blood trail they left behind, trying to remember how much blood a person could lose and still survive.

Three pints? Four?

And that was assuming we got the bleeding under control which we had not judging by the massive blood pools. T slammed the door to the cellblock closed, locking it for good measure as I turned back towards the door leading into to the man cave. Sheathing my knife I opted for my PPQ and backup weapon. If this was going down it wasn't going down quietly.

"They'll be here any minute," I told T and Daryl.

"Let 'em come." Daryl didn't sound the least bit worried about our uninvited guests.

I snorted, "Preach Leonidas."

"Who the fuck is Leonidas?"

"You need to get out more man," T commented, taking up a stance on the other side of the room. The redneck tossed the keys onto the table, loading an arrow as he propped his knee up on a bench.

"Y'all need to get yur damn priorities straight."

I chuckled, moving to the center of the room, raising both my weapons and aiming them at the doorway. A moment later Porn crept inside, eyes scanning the room critically as he watched us.

"That's far enough," Daryl told him, the rest of the gang filing in behind him.

"Cellblock C, cell four, that's mine gringo," Porn said, swaggering forward with confidence he had no right to given the multitude of weapons pointed his direction. I cocked my weapon and his foot froze in midair. "Let me in."

"Today's your lucky day fellas, you've been pardoned by the State of Georgia. You're free to go." Daryl's voice was hard. His finger wrapped around the trigger of his crossbow. Guess we were the parole board after all.

"Whatcha got going on in there?" I didn't like how he was trying to sneak-a-peak inside the cellblock one bit.

"Whole lot of mind your business," I mocked and he sent a withering glare my way.

He pointing at me, but looked at Daryl. "Need to muzzle your bitch gringo."

"Shit," T mumbled, but it was too late, I was already moving. It was time for him to die.

"Red!" Daryl shouted and I stopped, reluctantly, dragging my tongue across my teeth as I cocked an eyebrow at Porn making sure he understood this party was simply postponed, not cancelled. Daryl turned his attention back to Porn. "Ain't none of yur concern."

"Don't be telling me what's my concern." He pulled his firearm again and my shoulders tensed as Daryl pushed off the picnic table, pulling his crossbow tighter against his body.

"Chill out man, dude's leg his missing," the supersized one in the back said, trying to defuse the situation. "Man, we're free now. Why we still in here?"

"Man's got a point," Daryl added.

"I gotta go check on my 'ol lady." The inmate hadn't previously spoken. He had a deep, rumbling voice that resonated with me. He'd seen a lot of hard years even before incarceration.

Porn scoffed, "Civilians breaking _into_ a prison you got no business being in. Got me thinking there ain't no place for us _to_ _go_."

"Guess you aren't as stupid as you look," I smirked which earned me another glare from Porn, but they were already starting to lose their sparkle. He needed to pace himself.

"Why don't you go find out." Daryl's voice held no room for negotiation. They either left or they died. End of discussion. The two men were locked in a staring contest of epic proportions as the rest of the room held its collective breath.

"Well, maybe we'll just be going then," Archie interjected, trying to leave, but Porn wasn't having it.

"We ain't leavin'!"

"You aren't coming in either." My voice was low and he took if for what it was, a threat, aiming his weapon at me for the second time today.

"It's my house, my rules, I go where I damn well please!"

I whistled, "That's quiet the temper you got there."

"Fuck you bitch!" he hollered. If I had a nickel for every time someone said that.

"I believe you said that already. Got anything else?'"

"You're dead." I spoke too soon. If I had a nickel for every time someone said _that_.

My lips twitched as I slowly looked at each and every inmate. They thought they were tough simply because of location. I wished the worst thing I ever did was commit a felony. Truth was these wannabe's had no idea who they were dealing with. Carl could take them out without breaking a sweat.

"I would love to see you try," I taunted.

He looked at me like I was nuts. He didn't believe for a second that someone like me, a woman no less, had a chance in hell of taking them down. His eyes flicked back-and-forth between Daryl and T, looking for confirmation of my mental impairment, but they stayed frozen in place, faces like stone.

Porn was making a classic mistake of only seeing what was on the outside. To him I was a pale, skinny, redhead who was off her medication. It was an image I reveled in, encouraged, because it worked to my advantage. When people underestimate you they never saw you coming. When others dismissed you on sight as a viable threat you were able to move freely in the shadows. A handy trick to have up my sleeve in my former profession and now at the end of the world.

He clearly acknowledged Daryl for the threat he was and T's size alone demanded you keep at least one eye on him, and even though he was looking right at me he was blind as a bat. He didn't notice that out of the three of us standing in the man cave, defending the entrance to Cellblock C, I was in the most vulnerable position in the room, the middle. His arrogance and stupidity drowned out the most important question he had yet to consider.

Why?

I couldn't really blame him. It happened all the time. I wasn't built to inspire fear or demand respect. Other than my "odd" hair color I was made to be overlooked. My former employer saw it back in Iraq. Where others saw a wisp of a woman they saw unimaginable possibility. The threat you never saw coming was the most deadly. I was the assassin you welcomed with open arms.

"I ain't gonna tell ya again keep yur eyes off her!" Daryl bellowed, ending our stare down.

"Then let us in the damn cells!"

The shouting match continued among the men. The inmates were divided, some wanting to push their luck and try to take us while others wanted to take their freedom and run with it.

"Ain't nothin' for ya here!" Daryl spat, the tension in the room boiling over like a pressure cooker.

Rick raced into the room, "Everyone relax! There is no need for this."

I disagreed with that wholeheartedly, but he was the boss so I snapped my mouth shut. More because I was afraid if I didn't I'd just kill them and then Rick would get mad. If Rick got mad that meant hours of lectures about not killing people. Hours of lecture meant no midnight boob action with Daryl and that was where I drew the line. There wasn't much left in the world that was good, and I wasn't risking my potential boob action.

"How many of you are in there?" Porn asked Rick.

"Too many for you to handle." Shit, there were too many in this room, but whatever.

"Rip off a bank or something?" My eyebrows furrowed as I listened. This was worse than I originally estimated. They really had no idea what the world was like now. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

We all looked at each other in disbelief.

"How long you been locked in that cafeteria?" Rick questioned. Judging by their questions I was gonna say right around a year.

Porn hesitated, eyes darting around as he adjusted the grip on his weapon. "Going on 10 months." Eh, close enough.

"Riot broke out, never seen anything like it," the supersized human in the back added.

"Attica on speed man." Archie's nasally voice felt like it was scratching my brain.

"We heard about dude's going cannibal. Dying, coming back to life. Crazy."

"One guard looked out for us. Locked us in the cafeteria, gave me this piece and said he'd be right back," Porn said. Well that plan hadn't worked out.

"That was 292 days ago," Supersized added softly.

"294 according to…"

Porn cut off Archie, "Shut up!"

"We were thinking that the Army or the National Guard should be showing up any day now," Supersized mumbled. The sadness in his voice palpable.

"I'm here big guy. How's the rescue looking so far?" He looked at me in confusion.

Rick rubbed his hands down his face. "There is no Army."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"There-Is-No-Army," I repeated slowly. I even tried signing it to him. Still nothing.

"There's no Government, no hospitals, no police, it's all gone." Rick gave them a moment to let it sink in. As they absorbed the news the world ended while they were locked in a pantry I wondered who were the lucky ones, them or us? We had front row seats to the end of the world, but they were locked away with no clue what was happening.

"For real?" Archie asked, more afraid than unbelieving.

"Serious," Rick leveled with him.

"What about my mom's?"

"My kids, my 'old lady?" Their questions spilled out, desperation making their panic turn to anger. "You got a cell phone or something so we can call our families?"

"Man, you just don't get it do you?" Daryl huffed, his nearly non-existent patience stretched to the breaking point.

"No phones, no computers. As far as we can see at least half the population's been wiped out. Probably more," Rick told them, his own voice getting emotional. We all knew what happened, but we rarely choose to think about it much less talk about it. Hearing it was torture and I felt my arms start to shake.

"Ain't no way," Porn pipped up and I groaned. This fucking guy.

"See for yourself." Rick pointed his machete at the door with a cold look on his face. I seconded that vote. We led them outside to the courtyard we cleared yesterday. They squinted against the harsh, Georgia sun as they walked around what used to be a basketball court, but was now a graveyard.

"Damn this sun feels good," Deep Voice commented. I guess if you overlooked the pile of dead bodies then yeah, it was kinda nice.

"Good lord, they're all dead." At least Archie had a brain cell still left upstairs.

Porn pointed in front of him, "Never thought I'd be so happy to see these fences."

"That guy is tripping my psycho radar like a mofo," I whispered to T who nodded in agreement. We kept them in front of us as they inspected the prison, trying to come to grips with their new reality.

"You never said, how'd you get in here in the first place?" the small one that reminded me of Kevin Hart asked.

Daryl pointed, "Cut a hold in the fence over there by that guard tower."

"That easy huh?" Kevin Hart didn't sound convinced.

I stopped next to Daryl as he told the man, "Where there's a will there's a way."

I chuckled, leaning over to him whispering, "You should put that on a T-shirt."

He looked at me, his face dark, but his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Will ya behave?"

"Not a chance."

"Easy for you to say," Kevin Hart interrupted us and I glared at him. These guys were about as badass as a Girl Scout troop now that they saw the new world with their own eyes.

"So what is this, like a disease?" Supersized asked Rick. I sighed in frustration. Having to explain this shit to people was taxing. I moved towards the bleachers, inspecting the seats for any blood or guts before plopping down, careful to keep my gun out and ready.

"Yeah and we're all infected," he answered as all the inmates turned to gape at him.

I wanted to laugh, remembering the same look on the group's face when he shared that little nugget of information eight months ago. Of course, back then, the look had quickly turned from outrage to accusation which I never understood. Who cared if we died and came back as one of these freaks? You'd be dead. Did it matter what happened after that?

"What do you mean infected? Like AIDS or something?" Archie asked.

"Yeah, just like AIDS, except without the sex," I grumbled. Daryl slapped my leg in admonishment and I threw my hands in the air. Fine, explain away, use pictures if you had to, but could we speed this up?

"If I was to kill ya, shoot an arrow in your chest, you'd come back as one of these things." My head turned to him so fast I was surprised I didn't get whiplash. I'd never heard him sound so patient. Maybe he found his calling. Explaining the apocalypse to dumbasses. "Gonna happen to all of us."

"Ain't no way Robin Hood is responsible for killing all these freaks," Kevin Hart declared and I choked on a laugh, slapping my hands over my mouth in an effort to smother the sound. T snickered and Rick turned, giving us "the look" and we did our best reign it in. Well T did his best.

"I wouldn't underestimate Katniss," I told the Kevin, "He won the last Hunger Games you know."

I could feel Daryl's glare like a redneck caress on my skin. I snuck a peak at him, making a heart symbol with two hands as an apology. He closed his eyes for a second and it looked like he was counting down from 100 silently.

"There must be 50 bodies out here," Kevin exclaimed, waving his arms around.

"Sixty-two actually," I corrected as everyone turned to face me. "What? I'm thorough."

Porn was apparently done admiring the fence as he walked towards Rick and I tightened my grip on my weapon.

"Where'd you come from?" he asked.

"Atlanta."

He nodded, looking around before stepping closer to our leader, and I moved my weapon to my lap, subtly pointing it at him as Daryl adjusted the grip on his crossbow.

"Where ya headed?"

Rick turned to face him, "For now, nowhere."

Porn nodded, "I guess you could take that area over there by the water."

"I guess you could go fuck yourself," I mumbled under my breath. Playtime was almost over.

"We're using that field for crops," Rick informed him.

"Well, we'll help you move your gear out."

Rick shook his head, "That won't be necessary. We took out these walkers this prison is ours."

"Slow down cowboy."

Kevin marched up, his short legs making the journey look more like a marathon than a few steps, stopping next to his friend. "You snatched the locks off our doors."

I snorted, "You mean the pantry you were locked in?"

"And I suppose you would have broken out?" Porn leered at me, Daryl's body going stiff at my side.

"Well…yeah." Wouldn't everyone?

He laughed, "No fucking way some white girl like you got the chops for that."

I stood up, tilting my head to the side, raising my eyebrows in open invitation. "My days wide open homey."

Rick held his hand up, stopping our verbal sparring. "We can give you new locks if that's what you want."

"This is our prison." Porn's arms were open wide as Kevin nodded along with him. "We were here first." Spoken like a true Kindergartener.

"Locked in a broom closet?" Rick taunted, his tone disbelieving. Watch out Porn. Wouldn't want you to trip over the mic at your feet. "We took it, set you free, it's ours. We spilled blood."

The last words were spoken in a biting tone and I looked pointedly at Daryl and T who both nodded, fanning out to surround the inmates.

"We're moving back into our cellblock."

"You'll have to get your own," Rick corrected him.

"It's mine," Porn yelled, waving his gun around. "That's about as personal as it gets."

"Woah, woah," Archie said, trying to deescalate the situation. Daryl swung his crossbow up, but I already had my gun out and aimed at the his forehead. If he so much as looked at Rick wrong I'd put him down. "Maybe let's try to work something out so everybody wins." And I thought T's glass was half full of bullshit. Archie's was overflowing.

"I don't see that happening," Porn said and for the first time today we agreed on something.

"Neither do I." Rick didn't sound worried and I wondered what convoluted plan was forming in his head.

"I ain't going back in that cafeteria for one more minute," Porn stated.

"Great, can I kill him now?" I asked the group as Porn turned to me. I gave him a finger wave as I kept my gun trained on him.

"There are other cellblocks," Archie suggested nervously. Solid point.

"You could leave?" Daryl added in a threatening voice. Also a solid point. "Try your luck out on the road."

I almost laughed at that. The thought of these gentle snowflakes on the road was too good. Yeah, I wouldn't kill him. Letting him die on the road was much better. If any of them made it to the tree line I'd give up ABCs and 123s for a whole month. The inmates looked at each other, trying to silently communicate, but their Vulcan mind meld was crap. I already knew what they were going say. No way they had the stones to leave the prison.

"If these pussies did all this the least we can do is take out a cellblock," Porn declared.

"With what?" Supersized squeaked. Rick should send them in there with just their charm the same way he sent me into the woods that first day. Bet they wouldn't get half as far as I did before the ass whooping started.

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons, won't ya boss?"

Rick didn't answer right away, his face deep in thought. "How stocked is that cafeteria? Must have plenty of food. Five guys lasting almost a year."

"Sure as hell doesn't look like anyone's been starving," Daryl spit out and I ground my teeth in agitation. That was a fact and it pissed me off.

"There's only a little left," Porn replied.

"Lie," I said, my internal lie detector going haywire. Rick looked to me briefly before nodding.

"Well, we'll take half. In exchange, we'll help clear out a cellblock." I tried to keep my face composed. We'd do what?!

"Didn't you just hear him, there's only a little left!" Kevin shouted, trying too hard to make us believe the lie. Rick glanced at me and I shook my head again, letting him know it wasn't true.

"But you got more food than you got choices," Rick said.

"Oooh, burn," I muttered under my breath, Daryl's eyes flicking to mine as he silently told me to settle down.

"You pay, we'll play," Rick added and I tried to mentally preparing myself to clear out a cellblock for these pansies. "We'll clear out a block for you and then you keep to it."

"Alright, but only if she comes along." Porn needless pointed at me. I was the only _she_ out here. Daryl instantly moved, using his body to cut off Porn's line-of-sight. I rolled my eyes, moving out from behind him.

Rick's eyes narrowed, looking at me then back at Porn. "Why?"

"If she's half as good as all the shit she's been talking we're gonna need her. I ain't letting one of mine get bit 'cause you sent in the B Team."

That was about as believable as Hershel telling us the big spirit in the sky loved us even though he unleashed a plague meant to eradicate us.

"No way," Darryl all but shouted. "She ain't part of no deal." I put my arm on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as I looked at Rick who was clearly going to let me make the call. How kind of him. Men.

"Whatever moves this dick measuring contest along," I said with a shrug, not the slightest bit fazed by Porn's demand. His intentions were as transparent as a pane of glass. "It's hot."

Rick's face was calculating, but he didn't protest, moving into the man's personal space. "Fine, she goes, but if anyone makes a move towards her, even looks at her in a way I don't like, we'll end you." Jesus, I was choking on all the testosterone. Rick didn't back down, looking Porn up and down before adding, "Let's be clear, once this is done if we see you out here anywhere near our people, I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent," he paused dramatically. "I will kill you."

He was going to have to take a number and get in line.

"Deal."

"Thank god," I moaned, standing up and walking towards the door, but Daryl grabbed my arm, hauling me around a corner as the rest of the group debating which cellblock to clear.

"What the hell ya doing?" he hollered.

"What?" Did he mean right now? In general? I needed more to go on.

His eyes bulged out of his head and I cringed. "Why ya tauntin' him? He wants to kill ya!"

"I know." I tried to keep my voice even, not wanting to provoke the feisty hillbilly currently prowling in front of me.

"Then why the hell did you agree to go?"

I grinned, holding out my hand, "Hi my name's Alex. I used to kill people for a living. It's nice to meet you."

He scoffed, resuming his pacing as he drug a frustrated hand through his hair. "This ain't funny."

I stepped into his path, causing him to stop as I grabbed one of his hands. "I know what he's going to try and do. I'll be fine. The sooner we deal with them the safer we'll be."

His face softened, but his eyes looked no less terrified. "Why can't ya just…"

"Be normal?"

"I wasn't gonna say that, but ya ain't invincible."

"I'll be careful," I promised, moving closer to him. "Besides, you'll be with me. He'll be lucky to get within ten feet of me with the way you're rocking this caveman routine."

He exhaled harshly, leaning down and pressing his forehead against mine. I went onto the tips of my toes, grabbing his neck and pulling him down as I pressed my lips to his. What was supposed to be a light brush of the lips quickly became a full-blown make out session the second his tongue traced my lower lip. I opened my mouth, slanting my head to the side, giving him better access and I felt the rumble in his chest against my body.

"Can you two please get a room?" T's voice broke the spell as we pulled apart, but I noticed Daryl didn't jump away this time. He kept his hands at the base of my neck, eyes boring into mine with such intensity my breath hitched in my throat. "I mean, we literally have like 30, pick one. I can't keep seeing this shit." T's voice faded as he walked away, mumbling something about being traumatized and I smiled.

"Let's get this over with so we can do more of that."

It didn't take long to make our way back to the cafeteria and I found myself growing impatient. Hershel was hurt, dying if not already dead, and we were down here playing fuck-fuck games with these guys. I wanted to get the food, clear out the damn cell, and be done with today.

"You never tried to break out of here?" T asked the inmates. That would require a set of balls my friend and they didn't have a pair between them.

"We tried to take the doors off, but if you make one peep in here those pricks are lined up outside the door growling trying to get in," Deep Voice answered. Shocking revelation, truly. "One of 'ems got bars on there that He-Man couldn't get through."

"Better than a five by eight," Archie added, referring to the size of a standard prison cell and I couldn't contain my shutter of revulsion.

"You won't find me complaining," Supersized smiled, "Doing 15. My left leg will barely fit on one of those bunks."

"Yeah, they don't call him Big Tiny for nothing," Deep Voice stated.

Porn leaned against the door to the kitchen, "Are y'all done jerkin' each other off?" I'm sick of waiting back here."

I leaned over to T, "He makes Daryl look sophisticated."

He laughed, walking to the door that led into the kitchen, but I hung back, sitting down on a table. I had no desire to be crammed in a small space with eight dudes who hadn't showered since god knows when. Rick looked over his shoulder at me, his hand drifting over his pistol and I held up my own, showing him I was ready and more than willing. I didn't trust these guys as far as I could throw them and I doubted I could shove Big Tiny much less throw him. I kept my eyes on the group through the steel grating, my body ready for any eventuality as they walked into the pantry. I saw both Daryl and Rick's step falter outside the door of the pantry and knew it was worse than I anticipated. These pricks probably had enough food to feed a third world country for a year.

"We said half, that's the deal." I heard Rick reiterate and knew Porn was probably trying to renege on the original deal. That guy was shady AF.

Rick opened a door, probably checking for a hidden stash of food, but promptly slammed it, his back pressed against it for good measure as his face took on a greenish hue. They could keep whatever was behind door number two. Archie mumbled something I couldn't hear, but I saw Daryl's striding out of the pantry headed straight for me, shooting the inmates a look that begged them to try and stop him.

"Here." He stopped in the threshold of the door, tossing me something before turning and heading back. I caught it mid-air, inspecting it for a moment before my eyes went wide. I tore open the wrapper, swallowing half the granola bar in one bite.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" T asked from his spot against the wall. I was always ready, willing and able to eat. I unwrapped the rest of the bar and threw it to him. He looked at it for a half second before devouring it and I gave him a knowing look, rubbing my hands together to get rid of any crumbs.

Daryl found another cart like the one we used for Hershel and started piling food on it. My mouth watered as I took it all in, more than we'd seen in the entire eight months we were on the road combined. Once we had our portion Rick and T took it back to our cellblock while Daryl and I stayed with the inmates, not wanting them within 100 feet of our people. The two brought back crowbars, bats and other melee weapon, handing them out to the confused men.

"Why do I need this? When I got this?" Porn held his crowbar in one hand and a puny six shooter pistol in the other.

"You don't fire guns," Daryl stated, "Not unless your backs up against a wall. Noise attracts them. It really riles them up." And even then, I wouldn't be sad if he didn't. The world could do with less Porn. Carol would understand.

"We'll go in two-by-two," Rick spoke up, all eyes shifting to our leader. "Alex will run point with Daryl. T will hang back with you guys to help out. I'll bring up the rear with you." He pointed to Kevin Hart whose eyes shifted to Porn, and I narrowed my eyes at the pair. "Stay tight and hold formation no matter how close the walkers get. If anyone breaks rank we could all go down." I stood up, not listening to Rick's instructions as I carefully watched Porn and Kevin. "If anyone runs off they could get mistaken for a walker and end up with an axe to the head."

"That's where you aim," Daryl cut in. "These things only go down with a head shot."

"Ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man," Porn said with mock confidence.

"They're not men," I said, striding towards the door.

I heard T add, "There something else."

"Just remember, go for the brain."

I paused at the door, waiting for Rick's pep talk to end which thankfully wasn't long. He was wasting his breath. In my opinion these guys were dead men walking. I glanced behind me, the five of them lined up like ducks in a row. I drew two knives from the sheath at my waist, inhaling deep as I twirled the one in my left hand.

"Hope you're ready for it," I said, exhaling slowly, opening the door and slinking into the hallway without waiting for a reply.

"Tell me why we're following She-Ra?" I rolled my eyes at Porn's nickname. She-Ra wished she was as cool as me.

"Because she's your best bet of getting out of this alive," Rick answered.

I felt Daryl slow behind me, "But keep your distance."

"Why?" Big Tiny asked, fear in his voice. I kept walking, ignoring the conversation blatantly taking place behind me.

"'Cause sometimes she has a hard time telling friend from foe when she gets going."

I almost snorted at Rick's explanation. That was one way of putting. Holding my hand up at a corner I heard the group stop as I peered around. Seeing nothing I motioned them forward.

"Man, it's too damn dark in here," Deep Voice said in frustration.

"Hold it up high, up front," Daryl told him, correcting his form.

These guys weren't gonna last two seconds against walkers. I tried to remember if I was this much of an asshole the first time I faced one. I could hear their ragged breathing behind me and pinned them with a hard look. Mouth breathers much?

"It's coming!" Archie screamed and I rounded on him, putting my finger to my lips.

"Shhh!" Daryl scolded the terrified man.

I walked forward a few more steps before stopping the group, Daryl mirroring my signal as everyone halted. The low snarl of a walker sounded in the silent hallway. We watched his shadow on the wall getting larger as he shuffled closer, a noticeable limb in his stride. When he rounded the corner I saw another right behind him, growling and moving with a bit more speed than his counterpart. Daryl and I looked at each other before glancing at the inmates who all looked varying degrees of scared shitless.

Daryl held up one finger and I pointed at Deep Voice, silently telling him to stay put until Daryl gave the signal. He licked his lips, eyes wide as he adjusted the grip on his weapon a couple thousand times. Daryl held up a second finger, but before he could give the go ahead to attack Big Tiny let lose a war cry, sprinting forward as the other inmates followed in his considerable wake. I moved to the side, letting the morons pass with a stunned look on my face.

What part of noise really riles them up was unclear?

The five of them attacked the two measly walkers like they were fighting a herd as we watched from the sidelines. They continued to shout as they stabbed and hit every body part imaginable except the brain. When Kevin Hart and Deep Voice got one on the ground they proceed to kick and stomp on him like they were in the middle of a police riot. Archie stabbed a walker in the gut about fourteen times, but it just kept trying to bite him as Big Tiny held his arms back. We all looked at each other taking in the scene with a sad shake of our heads.

"What in the actual fuck?" I muttered.

"Should we stop them?" T asked.

Rick put his hands up in exasperation like he was dealing with disobedient children. "Nah, just let 'em…"

"Yeah," T finished for him as I leaned against the wall and waited

"They'll have to hit the brain eventually, even if it's by accident," I mused, glancing at Daryl from my spot on the opposite wall.

"Law of averages?" he asked and I nodded.

"Law of averages."

It took another five minutes for them to accidentally kill two walkers. At this rate it would take eight months to clear the freakin' cellblock. Once they were done I frowned at them, shouldering past the idiots so we could get this show on the road. Rick tried again to emphasize the point of the brain, but he could say until the cows came home for all the good it would do. You couldn't fix stupid. We stopped at a dead end that opened into a corridor as a walker ambled in front of us.

"It's gotta be the brain," Daryl explained, again, as he shot the walker dead between the eyes, "Not the stomach. Not the heart."

"Waste of an arrow," I mumbled as he moved towards the back, letting the inmates take another crack at the small group headed our way.

"Bolt."

I gaped at him, "Really? Now?" He smirked, pulling out a knife as he held the heavy crossbow with one hand, and I tried not to lick my lips as I watched his muscles bulging under the weight.

"Brain," he yelled as the inmates converged on the small group.

Deep Voice stepped forward and delivered a half decent axe to the head of a walker. "Like that?"

"Don't get cocky," I scolded as Archie stepped up to the plate. He too seemed to be learning as well, driving a metal pole through a walker's eye.

Rick lunged forward, using his machete to take down the last one, "Stay in tight formation. No more prison riot crap."

"Amen sister," I sighed as more filed into the small space.

The four of us hung back, letting the inmates handle the walkers, but kept our weapons ready. Ready for the walkers or the inmates I wasn't sure. They did better this time around, but they were sloppy and painfully slow. This room was going to look like a Jackson Pollock painting when they were finally done.

It took me a minute to realize there was someone missing and looked to my left, my mouth dropping open in horror when I saw Big Tiny taking on two walkers, alone. I pushed my way through the group, fighting to get to him, but it was a lost cause. He took down one walker before turning his attention to the second, but the first one was wasn't dead and was getting back up. It was wearing a set of chains securing its hands, and I blanched when it rip off its own hand so it could reach the giant mountain of a man.

"Big Tiny!" I screamed, pushing through the last body in my way and hurling a knife down the hallway. It impaled the walker in the head, the impact sending it flying back, but not before it scratched him across the back as he cried out in pain. Rick stabbed the last one in the back of the head effectively ending the threat, but suddenly two gunshots echoed in the hall, deafening in the small space, making me flinch.

Porn put two holes in the dead walkers for no other reason than he could. He shot Rick him a challenging look and I shook my head, brushing past them both as I bent down to retrieve my knife. Swallowing hard I stood up and looked at Big Tiny. The man was so big I had to tilt my head all the way back to see his face.

"Let me see," I told him as he reached for his back.

His eyes were petrified as he pulled away, blood coating his fingertips. Rick looked at me and I pinched my lips together looking at the stark red blood. I pushed on his shoulder, gently turning him as Rick pulled his shirt down. There were ragged nail marks down his back, shredding his wife beater, the blood seeping out of the jagged wounds that was deep and wide. Rick's eyes flicked to mine and I shook my head, stepping away.

"I'm telling you, I don't feel anything. It's just a scratch."

I moved away from him, keeping my head down until I was standing next to Daryl. He bumped his shoulder against mine, silently asking me if I was OK. I bumped him back.

 **Yes.**

"I'm sorry man," Rick told him softly. He meant it too.

"I can keep fighting," Big Tiny declared desperately.

"You cut that old dude's leg off to save his life." Kevin Hart was an idiot.

Rick pinned him with a look. "Look at where the bite is."

"Guys I'm fine! Just…" Big Tiny took a deep breath, gathering himself, "I'm fine. Look at me, I'm not changing into one of those things."

"There has to be something we can do." I understood their desperation, believe me I did, but there was absolutely nothing we could do to for the man. "Why don't we just lock him up?"

"Quarantine him," Archie suggested. I shook my head. Quarantines were for diseases that had a cure.

"And let him turn?" I replied. "You don't want that, trust me." Rick looked towards us, his face tired.

"There's got to be something we can do. Why you just standing there?!" Kevin screamed at Rick and I felt myself take a step forward, but Daryl put a hand on my arm and stopped me with a subtle shake of his head.

"There's nothing we can do," Rick admitted.

"You son of a bitch." Kevin looked on the verge of tears.

"I'm…"

Big Tiny's words were silenced as Porn slammed a crowbar into his head with such force he collapsed to the ground in a heap, blood spattered across the wall behind him. I gasped as Porn looked at Rick with the casualness of someone discussing dinner options. He eyed his crossbar with a satisfied gleam, taking in the dripping blood before bending down and hitting Big Tiny over and over. Daryl took a measured step in front of me, and this time I didn't move when his body blocked my view. I was too shocked and in need of the protection he was offering.

Porn didn't stop, not even when Big Tiny was dead. He just kept hitting him again and again as the blood sprayed everywhere, the ones closest to the body stepping back to avoid the carnage. I'd seen a lot of people killed a bunch of different ways, but this was the most disturbing thing I had ever witnessed. The worst part was Porn was enjoying every second of it.

When he was done or just too tired to continue he stood up, face, body and hair covered in Big Tiny's blood. He looked like every villain in every horror movie I'd ever seen. I think it was a safe bet to assume he wasn't in here on tax evasion. Watching him standing there panting from the exhaustion from bashing in a man's skull was unbearable so I looked at the ground. That was a colossal mistake as my throat tightened and stomach rolled as I saw Big Tiny's brain matter scattered across the concrete. Clamping my mouth shut to keep down the bile I curled my hand into Daryl's vest. He turned slightly, eyes concerned. He exhaled sharply before putting his hand at the small of my back and guiding me further away from the crime scene.

"Ya good?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

I looked at him, my lip quivering, "He dies before this is over."

There was simply no way we could let this man live on the same continent as our group. It wasn't because he killed Big Tiny. I had no loyalty to the man. But the manner in which he killed him was unacceptable. I was no saint. I killed the living, before and after the turn, but only when they left me no other choice. I did it to end their suffering or to protect those I loved, but I never, ever, took pleasure in it. The same could not be said for Porn. He was a stone, cold killer and even if it meant going directly against Rick's orders I would eliminate him before the sun went down. Daryl didn't like it, that much was obvious on his face, but he agreed nonetheless with a curt nod.

We continued towards the cellblock, but this time T was in the lead as Daryl, Rick and I trailed slightly behind. All three of us kept our eyes locked on Porn as he sauntered down the hall looking like an extra that wondered off the set of The Shinning.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Daryl asked Rick.

"If he makes one move."

I looked at him in disbelief, "You mean other than bashing someone's head in with a crowbar?" Daryl snorted at the same time Rick looked at me, cocking an eyebrow. "Just sayin'," I mumbled.

"Just gimme a signal," Daryl added as we glanced at each other. Signal or no signal he was going to be pushing up daises and soon.

We made our way into a laundry area and everyone spread out, cautiously checking the room. Everyone except Porn that was, he strolled in, weapon lowered, not a care in the world. I really hoped there was a walker stuffed in a washing machine that would save me the trouble of killing his dumb ass, but per the norm karma was out on paid vacation and the room was clear of any danger. Why was it walkers materialized like gremlins that had been fed after midnight when you _didn't_ need them, but when you _did_ , so they could kill the resident sociopath, you couldn't rustle one up with a map and flashlight? One of life's great mysteries I suppose. Thankfully judging by the sounds coming from the other side of the locked double doors I wouldn't have to wait long. Daryl tossed his set of keys at Porn's feet and the man looked down at them with indifference.

"I ain't opening that."

"Yes you are," Rick said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Cause you want this cellblock. You're gonna open this door, just the one, not both of them. We need to control this."

When Porn bent down to pick up the keys I passed behind him to the other side of the room, twirling a knife in my hand as I positioned myself. As a lefty I would do better on this side of the room. It also had the added benefit of spreading out our numbers so we outflanked the inmates creating a cozy, little, kill box should the occasion call for it.

Porn glanced at Kevin Hart briefly before walking to the double doors, inserting the keys in the lock. I felt Daryl's eyes on me and glanced at him, my heart racing. To the outside observer he looked calm, but I saw the worry buried deep in his blue eyes. I knew he felt exactly what I did. This was it. Whatever end game Porn was planning would play out in this dingy laundry room. I swore to all things holy that if this dick-bag was responsible for hurting my family I'd kill him and let him reanimate just so I could kill him again. Rick gave us all a look that read be ready as Porn unlocked the doors.

The asshole threw the chains to the ground, turning around with a shit-eating grin, "You bitch's ready?"

I couldn't speak for anyone else, but _this_ _bitch_ was ready.

He pulled on the door twice, the heavy metal not budging, and I sighed. What a prick. He tried a third time, but this time he grabbed both door handles, yanking the double doors open wide before I could stop him.

"Motherfucker!" I yelled, springing forward as three walkers immediately stumbled through the doors.

"I said one door!" Rick was pissed, but there was nothing we could but deal with it.

I kicked a walker in the back, sending it sprawling behind me towards Rick who I knew would easily handle it. I growled in the back of my throat when I heard Porn tell Rick _"shit happens"_ , but didn't have time to comment as walkers kept coming through the door.

I sank my knife through the chin of one, using its shoulders to prop myself up as I swung my body around it, kicking another in the face with my steel toed boot. Releasing the dead walker I pulled out my knife, turning my attention to the one getting back up. Before it could right itself I stomped down on its head with the heel of my boot. The sounds of fighting were all around me and had to mentally bitch slap myself to keep from checking on Daryl. He could handle himself, I knew that, and this time I would have to trust in that knowledge. Any distraction, even for a moment, could cost me my life.

I danced around the walkers, parrying their sloppy attempts to grab and bite me while delivering lethal strikes to every one dumb enough to venture too close. I was breathing hard, crouched over the body of a dead walker as one lunged at me from my left. Diving forward I rolled, springing onto my feet as I twirled around, throwing a knife, the walker dropping instantly. Three more were shuffling forward, but before I could handle them something caught my eye. There was a walker directly in-between Porn and Rick. The latter had his back turned, unaware of the danger lurking behind as he slashed at the walkers in front of him. My mouth went dry as I watched Porn watching Rick. The look in his eye was the same one he sported right before he pummeled Big Tiny's brain into hamburger meat. My feet were moving before I consciously realize it.

I catapulted myself over a dead walker, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, slamming my smaller frame into Rick's much larger one. My momentum sent him tumbling sideways, the pain of the impact making my bones rattle. Porn swung his crowbar in the space Rick's head was occupying only seconds ago, barely clipping the face of the walker. The melee weapon passed by so close to my own head it tangled with a few strands of loose hair, pulling them out as it whizzed by, inches from killing me. I lurched sideways in an effort to put more distance between myself and the steel rod, Rick reaching out to steady me as we both stared at Porn who simply shrugged before taking out another walker.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Fine." Fuck. No.

Rick smile fell short as he noticed something over my shoulder, eyes going wide with horror as a body slammed into me. Rick fell to the side while I tumbled to the ground, barely able to twist my body around before I hit. The air punched out of my lungs at the impact as I brought my forearms up in an effort to stop the advance of the walker that was on top of me. It snarled and growled, its jaw snapping so close to my face I was forced to turn my head to the side. He reached for me and I grabbed his arms, barely able to hold him off as I wedged my knee up and against his chest to create more distance. My muscles ached as I strained to hold the monster back, long strings of spit and sludge trailing from his mouth. Sheer desperation clawed at the back of my throat as I cried out for help.

Rick called my name as he tried to fight his way to me, but before he could so much as take a step Daryl was there. He sunk a knife into the top of the walker's head, not even bothering to remove it as he grabbed his shirt collar and pulled the body off me, tossing it to the side without a second glance. My arms fell to the ground as I panted, mentally checking my body for injury. Daryl leaned down, grabbing my arms and hauling me to my feet in one swift movement like I weighed nothing at all. My head swam with dizziness once I was upright so I held onto his shoulders, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth in a slow controlled manner. Kind of.

"Red." His voice was strained as his eyes searched for a bit or scratch that would signal the end of my life. I put my hand up, telling him I needed a minute, letting my head fall on his chest. Our Vulcan mind meld should convey I fine physically, just rattled, but he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my back. Porn on the other hand would not be able to say the same just as soon as I got my shit together.

A moment later I reluctantly pulled away and he released me, giving me a measured stare before stepping away and turning around quickly, aiming his crossbow at Porn. The fighting was over, the walkers all dead and my eyes scanned the room until I found T who gave me a brief smile. My shoulders sagged with relief he was unscathed. Rick stalked towards Porn with a look that would make me run in the other direction if I was on the receiving end of it, but since Porn was crazier than a soup sandwich he only smiled and shrugged.

"It was coming at me bro," he said nonchalantly, looking over Rick's shoulder to grin at me. I was shocked Daryl didn't shoot him. It was a testament to his improved restraint.

"Yeah, yeah I get it," Rick agreed, glancing at me as I ground me teeth together. I tried to move closer, but Rick's gaze stopped me short. He wanted to handle this. "Shit happens." Porn looked a little off balance at his blasé attitude. It was the first time I'd seen him uncomfortable since we liberated them from the cafeteria. "Do you remember what I told you before?" Porn shook his head no, confused. "I told you that if you touched one hair on her head I would kill you."

And technically he pulled out at least 10 while channeling Babe Ruth with that crowbar.

Porn scoffed, looking at me. "Bitch is fine. That shit was an accident." And people said I had a death wish.

Rick nodded like he understood. A sinister smile on his face that spoke of anything but understanding as the two engaged in some kind of silent stare off. The longer it went the more tense the room became as everyone watched and waited. Half the room looked ready to hightail it out of here and the other half looked ready to charge. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew one thing, it wasn't going to be good.

Without warning Rick reared back, whirling his machete in a half arc and slamming it into Porn's head so hard it sunk in all the way to his eye. The inmates gasped, but the three of us were already moving, weapons aimed. Kevin Hart hesitated for a half second before screaming and trying to swing his bat at Rick, but he kicked him in the gut, sending the smaller man down to the floor, his weapon rolling away.

Kevin's eyes were wide as he searched the room for any ally, but found none. Deep Voice and Archie were rooted in place, varying degrees of nausea on their faces. Realizing staying put equaled a machete to the forehead he scrambled to his feet, taking off through the double doors and disappearing. Rick took off after him and I jumped over the pile of bodies following right behind him. Daryl and T could handle the other two. I easily caught up to Rick, passing him as I followed the footsteps echoing in the hallway ahead of me.

"Alex goddamn it, wait!" Rick yelled, but I kept running, calling over my shoulder.

"Get those high heels moving Officer!"

I was right behind the midget, but before I could take him down he darted around a corner, then another and another. I had at least a foot on him in height, but despite all that he was fast. He raced up a small staircase with me hot on his heels crashing into an open door before making a hard right and sprinting outside. I slowed down at a set of metal bars looking into the courtyard we had yet to clear. I stayed safely behind the gate as Kevin's head bobbed back-and-forth trying to track all the walkers milling around.

Rick caught up, finally, and I put my hand out to stop him. He nodded, breathing heavily as he peeked outside. There were a decent amount of walkers outside, but nothing someone who knew what they were doing couldn't handle. If they were armed. Too bad Kevin didn't know what the fuck he was doing _and_ was weaponless. He had two choices, stay outside and die or come back inside and die. I really didn't care which one he picked. He ultimately chose door number two and raced back towards us, but Rick slammed the gate closed.

"Let me back in man! Let me back in!" he hollered attracting the attention of every walker.

Rick held the door firmly closed, looking him dead in the eye as he told him, "You better run."

His face paled and it took him a full 10 seconds to realize Rick was serious as he stood there. Finally the fast approaching moans of the walkers made him pivot on his heel, pushing through the growing group as they hastily grabbed at their next meal. His short stature made it impossible to keep track of him so Rick and I retreated back, closing the secondary door, but even that didn't drown out the screams of Kevin dying.

"I'll wait here, make sure he's dead," I told him.

"No, he's gone. Let's go."

Rick's tone was final, but I didn't like it. We should wait and make sure. Never assume an enemy was terminated until you had tangible proof of death. That was what my old employee handbook said in Chapter One, but I told myself that was paranoia talking. Kevin hardly survived killing the few walkers he encountered today and we were there to help. The chances of him surviving what was outside were minimal. Still, I couldn't shake the nagging doubt we were making a mistake.

"You good?"

He hesitated, his breathing kind of shaky as his eyes darted every which way. "Gotta be." That may be the case, but he looked about as far from good as you could get.

Back in the laundry room Rick wasted no time picking up right where he left off, holding his Colt Python to Archie's head as the man pleaded for his life with tears in his eyes. I felt for him, a little. Having someone point a gun in your face was never fun, but there was no way I would beg for my life, ever. I didn't give a damn what someone was going to do to me. It wasn't worth my dignity.

Archie continued to make a case for mercy. He outlined his addiction to pills and not murder before offering anecdotes about Tiny who he claimed was a friend. I watched him closely, looking for any sign of deception, but found none. He wasn't a liar. Just a coward begging for what little time he had left. Rick didn't bother confirming the truth of his pleas. The puddle of piss he was kneeling in made the point quiet eloquently.

Rick rounded on Deep Voice whose name I learned was actually Oscar. He pointed the gun at his head which was slight overkill considering Daryl had Davy Crocket's bowie knife pressed against his throat.

"What about you?" Rick asked him. Oscar didn't look scared at the prospect of either a bullet or a blade. He looked menacing.

"I ain't never pleaded for my life," he ground out. Not an ounce of quiver in his voice. "And I ain't about to start now. So you do what you gotta do."

I crossed my arms over my chest watching him. I respected his answer, even found myself respecting the man himself. I personally knew how hard it was to say those words in the face of certain death. Rick hesitated, pulling the gun back slightly as he studied him. I wasn't known for mercy, but there had been enough killing today. These men deserved a chance. Apparently Rick agreed as he holstered his weapon, T and Daryl following suit as he told the duo we would honor our end of the deal and take them to their cellblock.

It wasn't exactly what I'd call inviting. There were dead walkers and bodies lying everywhere, blood pooling underneath them and filling the air with a putrid stench even Febreze would be powerless to touch. Most of the prisoners had their hands zip tied behind their back and it was clear they were executed. Looking around the cellblock it wasn't lost on me that while we may have spared their lives for now they had a long way to go before they started living. This cellblock would be a lot for two people to handle, and these two were about as ill-prepared for this world as you could get.

"Oh man," Oscar muttered taking in the gruesome scene.

"I knew these guys." The man whose name was Axel, not Archie, said to no one in particular, his shoulders hunched over in grief. "They were good men."

His eyes drifted to mine and my face softened as I looked at the broken man. "They always are," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Let's go," Rick ordered.

"You're just gonna leave us in here?" Oscar sounded shocked, like this wasn't the plan from the beginning. Guess sometimes getting what you wanted wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Man this is sick."

Rick ignored him, "We're locking down this cellblock. From now on this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it. That was the deal."

The coldness in Rick's voice wasn't a surprise, but it hurt to hear. The compassionate man I met almost a year ago, who offered me a place in their group almost without hesitation, was a distant memory. I understood the brutality of his actions, but I wished I could do something to spare him these choices. Doing things like this, it changed you on a fundamental level, and Rick's heart was too big. This would haunt him. I was sure of it.

He left without another word, but Daryl paused, looking at the dead men before facing the pair. "You think this is sick? You don't want to know what's outside."

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones," Rick added from the other side of the door.

"Sorry about your friend's man."

While Rick's voice was devoid of compassion Daryl's was not. What a role reversal. The once introverted, combative redneck who couldn't hold a conversation without hurling an insult just for good measuring was now taking the time to console strangers. My heart squeezed in my chest. Proud beyond words at the man he was allowing others to see.

"Word of advice," T offered from his spot against the door. "Take those bodies outside and burn 'em."

Ducking my head I made my way towards the door, but Axel's timid voice stopped me. "Ma'am."

I stopped, turning around as I looked at them both. "Alex," I corrected, waiting for him to continue.

He smiled shyly, his body shaking as he crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop it. "How do you do it?"

Boy, talk about a loaded questions. I could sit them down and talk until my jaw fell off and not even get past the table of contents in that book.

"Red." I glanced at him, holding up a finger and telling him to give me a second.

"The world you knew before is gone. No matter how bitter, how harsh you remember it being, trust me it's worse now. You have to be strong." I took a breath, biting my lip for a second before adding, "Survive now. Grieve later. There's no room for weakness. You have to always be ready to destroy whatever threatens to kill you."

"And if we can't?" Oscar asked.

"Then you die."

We made our way back to Cellblock C, home sweet home, and as we approached I saw Carl and Glenn standing outside a cell.

"Hershel stopped breathing," the boy told his father, "Mom saved him."

My heart actually skipped a beat at the news, but thankfully the old man was still with us, for now.

"It's true," Glenn whispered and I looked at the man who was a brother to me. He was battle weary and I couldn't phantom how difficult today must have been for him.

I stopped slightly behind Daryl who was perched next to the entrance of the cell, gazing down at the unconscious man handcuffed to the bed. My eyes watered as I took in his body, blood stained clothes, and missing lower limb. Daryl heard me sniffle and reached out for me as I stepped into his embrace, his arm going around my shoulders. My thoughts were chaotic as I watched Rick make his way to Hershel, passing Beth and Maggie with a gently squeeze on their shoulders. They looked terrible, their faces streaked with tears and eyes haunted. We never should have let him come with us, but there was no going back now. We had to hope we were quick enough, and the limited medical knowledge between the us was enough to save him. I thought I saw his lips move, a barely audible mumble, but couldn't be sure as everyone converged on him at once obstructing my view. My legs tingled with the need to get closer, but my mind wouldn't allow my body to step into the cell. And then, like a miracle straight out of the man's good book, he opened his eyes.

"Daddy," Maggie cried, looking down at him.

"Daddy," Beth repeated, kneeling down beside the bunk with a smile so bright it hurt to look at.

Everyone started crying and I saw Rick pull the keys to the cuffs from his pocket and unlock them. The old man looked around for a second before reaching for Rick who fell to his knees beside him, grasping his hand with tears running down his face.

My own tears fell unchecked as Daryl pulled me flush against him and I reached out to Carl, wrapping my arm around him and adding him to our hug fest. Rick looked at his son, amazement and joy on his face. Carl leaned into me, hugging me so tight his hat fell off. I kept my eyes locked on him even as Lori passed by with her head down. I wanted to reach out, comfort or console her, but between Daryl and Carl I wasn't moving anytime soon.

Rick stood up, following after his wife as Beth and Maggie took his place at their father's side. I let go of Carl as his father approached, the two sharing a few hushed words as he knelt in front of the boy. Daryl took my hand, pulling me away from the cell and further down the cellblock. When we were far enough away he stopped, turning around and looking me over from head to toe as I did the same. He was covered in blood, guts and sweat, but I'd never seen a more gorgeous sight in my entire life. He was alive and unharmed. Didn't get much better than that.

"Ya good?" he asked, using his filthy rag to wipe the blood and gore from my face. I swatted the it away, pulling my head back for good measure. A walker hadn't killed me today, but the collective pile of germs on that rag most certainly would.

"Gotta be."

I laughed at his expression, but it quickly turned to tears despite my best effort to quell them. He abandoned the task of trying to clean me up and pulled me to him. I buried my head in his neck, wrapping my arms around him as I melted into him. His body engulfed me, holding me close as I balled into his shirt, the events of the day hitting me with the force of a wrecking ball.

"It's a'right Red, you go ahead and fall apart," he breathed in my ear, "I gotcha and I'll kill anythin' that comes for ya 'til yur back on yur feet."

"This side or the other," I choked out between sobs.

"Damn right."

* * *

 **If you were jonesing for a fix this chapter should do it...and then some. A lot happening. I know this chapter was pretty long, but every time I tried to stop it and start a new one it was choppy and didn't make sense. Hope that's OK.**

 **How is Alex fitting in TWD story thus far? Dying to hear what you guys think. Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following!**


	23. The Only Constant Is Change

**The Only Constant Is Change**

I walked the fence line of the prison before the sun was even high enough to clear the tree line. The morning was filled with a dense fog I could feel on my skin and clothes, the water particles in the air a milky, white color. Birds chirped as they soared high in the iridescent sky, lovely songs that made you forget for a moment the world ended. A gentle breeze made my exposed skin prickle with goosebumps, the wet air thick enough to taste and cold enough to make me uncomfortable. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms in an effort to warm myself, but even that couldn't erase the chill I felt in my bones. Probably because it had little to do with the weather.

A nightmare woke me hours earlier. I'd choked on a scream, my eyes flying open in terror, a light sheen of sweat coating my body as I shook with aftershocks from the imagined trauma. It took me minutes to calm my frayed nerves. The nightmare still vivid, the fear so tangible I locked my eyes on Daryl and refused to blink just to assure myself he was alive and well. There was no getting back to sleep at that point, try as I might, and I could only lay there unmoving for so long. Miraculously I untangled myself from his arms without waking him as I dressed in the dark in that odd hour somewhere between night and morning. I stood by our shared bed, staring down at him while he snored softly, his arms reaching for me even in sleep as he mumbled something I couldn't make out. Only Daryl could look tense in the middle of a REM cycle, his body twitching every few seconds, eyes flitting back-and-forth under his eyelids at a rapid pace. He would be pissed when he woke up and found me gone, but he needed the rest and as much as he disagreed I didn't need a chaperone.

Outside I grimaced at the sizeable number of walkers lining the fence on one particular side. The dead were attracted by our scent and judging by the accumulation this morning our smell lingered far longer than we imagined. The only person who had ventured anywhere near this portion of the fence was Carol and that was early yesterday morning, but here they were, practically climbing over each other as they gnawed and licked the metal structure. A group this size needed to be dealt with before it grew to an unmanageable number. Glancing up at the guard tower I contemplated letting Glenn and Maggie know I was stepping outside for a bit, but the rhythmic pounding coming from above told me they were _otherwise_ occupied.

I walked to the main fence, unlocking the gate and swinging it open as I stepped out, quickly closing it behind me. Rolling my shoulders and head to loosen the knots in my muscles I drew two knives from the sheath at my waist, quietly making my way towards the small group. Anticipation pounded in my pulse like a drug. My body felt stretched like a rubber band ready to snap at any moment. I needed a release, to stretch my muscles and let off steam in a way only combat provided.

The past few days an uneasy feeling I couldn't explain followed me everywhere I went like my own personal rain cloud. It wasn't any _one_ thing, but rather a nagging doubt, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was horribly wrong. At first I thought Oscar and Axel responsible for my discomfort, but we hadn't seen hide nor hair of either since we marooned them in their cellblock. I knew they would show their faces eventually, but it wasn't their impending arrival that had me on edge.

It felt like someone was watching us. Their eyes making my skin prickle in warning when we were outside in the yard or next to the picnic table on the basketball court, but when I turned around or dashed suddenly around a corner I found nothing. Daryl told me it was the silence that unsettled me. Admittedly I wasn't used to downtime. I felt comfortable on the run. I didn't know what to do with myself when there wasn't an enemy to fight.

Fight. Move. Fight. Move.

It was a pattern I was familiar with and that familiarity brought a sense of comfort, as fucked up as it was. Settling into a routine at the prison was the most "normal" thing I'd done in a decade so everyone chalked my suspicions up to paranoia. They were right, I was paranoid, but that didn't make me wrong. Something was off. I just didn't know what it was, yet.

The irony of my maladjustment wasn't lost on me. I could practically feel the group's collective sigh of relief each day we woke in the cellblock, safe. We weren't starving, running for our lives or fighting hordes of walkers at every turn for the first time in months, but our downtime was spent burning walkers and scrubbing brain matter off the walls. I'd take the walkers, the running, and cold beans over that honey do list.

I whistled at the group of walkers, ten in total. All ten sets of eyes swiveled in my direction like it was a choreographed dance move, some already hobbling my way. I grinned as they approached, my mind shutting down, a singular focus that blocked out everything else and helped me relax. My mind catalogued the approaching targets, taking in the details and searching for weaknesses. They had all been dead a while, the heat of the Georgia summer melting the skin from their bones like wax from a candle. Their clothing was barely more than rags at this point, held on their deteriorating forms by little more than threads. Some were missing limbs, others eyes, and all of them had gaping wounds where their hair hand been ripped from their scalps.

The first one to reach me lunged and I darted left, sinking my knife easily into her head as she dropped to my feet. Two more converged on me from either side, their distance too close to risk fighting from this spot. I bent backwards in a U-shape reaching for the ground with my left hand. When I felt the damp soil under my fingertips I kicked my legs up and over my head until they contacted the ground behind me. Springing to my feet I let out an exuberant laugh as the walkers collided with each other like a comedy routine from The Three Stooges. Not a bad back handspring, but I'd wait for the Russian judge's score before I celebrated my Olympic victory.

I threw the knife in my left hand, followed rapidly by the one in my right, my aim true as the blades sunk into their foreheads sending them tumbling back. Drawing two more knives I sized up the remaining walkers, positioning myself accordingly. They came at me with sluggish, sloppy movements the dead were known for and I easily avoided their claws and teeth. I danced among them, around them, between them, slashing and slicing as I went, the tension in my body evaporating like the early morning fog.

In what felt like only seconds they were gone, a pile of them dead at my feet as I turned around in a circle inspecting the carnage. My body and clothes were coated in their blood and I pulled one of Daryl's old shirt sleeves from my pocket, hastily wiping my face, arms and neck. I sighed as the annoying feeling of dread slithered back. Like any drug the adrenaline high that came with fighting faded all too soon and I was right back where I started. Exhaling harshly I stepped over the bodies, striding towards the front gate. Hopefully I could get back inside before anyone noticed I was gone. Maybe they would think the giant pile of dead walkers outside the fence was courtesy of the Tooth Fairy.

I was two seconds from patting myself on the back for a sneaky job well done when someone cleared their throat from behind me. The good news was it definitely wasn't Daryl. He didn't do subtle coughs. He did loud, angry, screaming. I finished wrapping the chain around the fence, securing the lock and ignoring the irritated sigh behind me. This must be what getting caught sneaking out of your house to bone your boyfriend felt like in high school. Nervous, I peeked over my shoulder and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"He's on his way." Rick didn't need to clarify the _who_. He eyed me long and slow, eyes traveling from the roots of my hair down to the tips of my boots before shaking his head. He looked over his shoulder, taking in my handwork. "How many?"

"Three." Maybe his eyesight was bad? His lips thinned in annoyance, hands going to his hips. Or not. "Ten."

"Alex," he said with a grumpy huff.

"They were piling up on the fence. If we don't keep them under control they could tear it down." Not a complete lie.

"That's not the point and you know it. We don't take unnecessary risks. We've come too far to lose someone now."

My eyes sunk to the ground, my shoulders hunched as I absorbed the scolding. "Right."

I didn't bother arguing that taking out ten walkers was as easy as breathing to me. He was right. That wasn't the point and I knew it. Plus, when I did this kind of thing people tended to get uncomfortable. It was one thing to _know_ something. It was something else entirely to _see_ it.

The door to the prison swung open, the solid metal banging against the brick wall with a loud crash. We both turned at the noise and I immediately shuffled my feet, positioning myself behind Rick as I crouched down in a futile attempt to hide in plain sight. Daryl's eyes scanned the courtyard, fists clenched at his side, crossbow slung across his back. When he spotted Rick, and apparently me, he bolted down the stairs, skipping more than a few steps, leaving Carol and T in his wake.

Rick looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow cocked, "Little too late for that now, dontcha think?"

I frantically rubbed at my exposed arms, face and neck, trying to get rid of as much walker blood as I could before I died, but it wasn't helping. The gooey substance was just spreading out, making it look like bloody camouflage.

"I think outside the fence might be safer," I mumbled as Daryl approached. Rick hummed in agreement, not an ounce of fake sympathy in his tone, and I glared at the back of his head.

"The hell?"

I straighten up at Daryl's question, stepping out from behind Rick because he was doing a shit job of hiding me. A pair of blue eyes immediately honed in on me. His eyes scanned me up and down, several times, eyes getting wider and wider with each pass while I cringed harder and harder.

"Morning babe," I smiled, injected so much false bravado into my voice I'd probably drown in it. Fake it till you make it. He scowled at me, eyes flicking to the fence line. I knew the instant he spotted the pile of dead walkers. A string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth so fast it would have been impressive if it wasn't aimed directly at me.

I was pretty sure he said son of a bitch, goddamn, motherfucking, piece of shit.

It sounded like sumbitchgoddamnmotherfuckin'piece'oshit.

He took a few deep breaths, his fists opening and closing at his side unconsciously before his eyes swept right past me to Rick.

"Ya go with her?" he asked. Rick looked like he'd rather be locked in a cell with Lori than answer that question.

"Uh..." Damn Rick and his inability to lie. Cops.

"Red!" he hissed, taking a step towards me as Rick bolted in the opposite direction now that the hunter's sole focus was me. Pussy.

I held my hands up, trying to calm him down. "It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." Except for him. He _did not_ look fine. His head looked like it might explode. Thankfully I was saved from the executioner by Carol.

"Why's Pookie so mad?" Or not. Daryl silently pointed to his left and Carol chuckled, whistling as she surveyed my handiwork. "Ah, got it."

I gaped at her. That was all the help I was getting? That was about as useful as a blind interior decorator. Some friend. I was withholding porn for at least a week.

"We got a lot to do today so let's stop wasting daylight," Rick cut in and I threw him a grateful smile.

Suddenly a day filled with burning walkers sounded appealing. Anything to put some distance between myself and the seething redneck. Rick started rattling off our To Do list: get the vehicles out of sight, burn dead walkers, check the perimeter for holes. I listened intently or at least pretended to, and as soon as he was done I scampered away with the speed of a jackrabbit. Too bad Daryl possessed the speed of an irate cheetah.

"We ain't done."

"Really?" I looked around for a life raft, but there wasn't a soul in sight.

"Ya can't keep doin' this." His voice sounded different now, less angry and more worried. Instantly I felt like a shitbag.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I needed to get it out of my system. This feeling, I can't shake it."

He watched me closely for a moment before pulling me into his arms. I let out a sigh of relief as I wrapped my arms around his waist. He may not like it, he definitely didn't understand it, but he accepted it. He accepted me. He had his challenges and I had mine. I wasn't like other people. I had to work things out in my own way. Sometimes that way included massacring a group of walkers.

"Can I ask you a question?" I pulled away, tipping my head back so I could look at his face. "What are you madder about, the walkers or the fact Carol called you Pookie?"

He rolled his eyes and I thought I heard him mutter "crazy" under his breath, but couldn't be sure. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before letting me go and leaving to get his motorcycle. It didn't take long to get the vehicles inside the fence, but little did I know that would be the easy part. I blanched as Carol gunned the engine of the truck, trying to back it up and stage it for a quick getaway. Instead she rammed the fence and ran over a few dozen dead walkers. Assuming everyone knew how to drive was clearly a mistake on our part.

"Maybe you should help her out?" Rick commented and I nodded. "OK, let's get the other car in. Park 'em in the west entry of the yard."

"Good," Daryl cut in, "Our cars vehicles camped out there looks like a giant vacancy sign."

"After that we need to load up these corpses so we can burn 'em," Rick said.

"Gonna be a long day." I nodded with T, the two of us scanning the yard and taking in all the bodies we needed to move.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie? We could use some help," Carol asked.

I snorted, pointing to the guard tower. Rick's eyes went wide as he eyed the tower. "Again? Weren't they just up there last night?"

"Yeah, and thank your lucky stars they were. That man does not do quiet," I said with a wince, picking at the grim under my fingernails with a knife. We were going to have to work out some kind of rotation for that tower. It had been too long since Daryl and I had roasted the broomstick. I could practically feel the cobwebs growing around Mount Pleasant.

"Someone's jealous," Carol snickered and I pushed her shoulder as Daryl sent us a half-hearted glare.

"Glenn! Maggie!" he yelled.

A few second later Glenn's head popped up and couldn't contain the laugh that burst out of me, Carol grinning beside me. When he opened the door shirtless still buttoning his pants I had to put my hands on my knees I was laughing so hard.

"Hey, what's up guys?" he called down, embarrassed.

"You comin'?" Daryl yelled back and I snorted, tears in my eyes as my shoulders shook with laughter. Oh no he didn't! Who knew Daryl could be funny?

"What?"

"You comin'?" he repeated. He had to stop. I couldn't breathe. Glenn looked at him in confusion, glancing back in the tower to Maggie for assistance. "Come on we could use a hand."

That did it. I was officially hyperventilating. Someone call Hershel. Everyone laughed as we turned and started back towards the cars, a befuddled Glenn still standing on the ledge of the guard tower.

"You're extra," I smiled at Daryl who bumped his shoulder against mine as Glenn yelled they'd be right down.

"Ya love it," he whispered playfully and I almost tripped and fell, clearing my throat awkwardly as he raised his eyebrows. I tried to smile. To pretend what he said hadn't hit me right in the feels. He was absolutely right. I did love _it_ and _him_. That wasn't how he meant it and I would probably never have the guts to tell him. I loved this brash, unrefined redneck with my whole heart and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I could just imagine telling him. He'd either die of shock or shoot me, probably a bit of both. It took the man three months to stick his tongue in my mouth. Declarations of undying love would short-circuit his brain.

"Hey Rick," T called out, the rest of us turning and just like that all humor was extinguished faster than Glenn and Maggie's sexual escapades. My eyes narrowed as I watched Oscar and Axel walking towards us. Admittedly geography wasn't my thing, but I was pretty sure this was our side of the prison.

Rick hauled ass up the dirt road. "Come with me." Like he needed to ask. I was right behind him with T and Daryl hot on my heels. On instinct I pulled a knife as T's eyes darted to mine. Better safe than sorry.

"That's close enough," Rick told the pair. "We had an agreement."

"Please mister, we know that," Axel started as the guard tower door opened, Glenn and Maggie stepping out. "We made a deal, but you gotta understand we can't live in that place another minute. You follow me? All the bodies. People we knew, blood, brains everywhere...there's ghosts."

"Why didn't you move the bodies out?" Daryl asked, hands on his hips as he watched them closely. I adjusted the grip on my knife, my feet sliding into position should they decide to attack.

"Should be burning 'em," T added.

"We tried. We did." Axel sounded offended.

"Do or do not. There is no try," I told them as Rick's head slowly turned. "Yoda."

"Fence is down on the far side of the prison. Every time we drag a body out those things just line up," Oscar explained ignoring my intergalactic wisdom. "We're just droppin' the bodies and running back inside."

Axel stepped forward and I brought my knife up, stepping in his path my face lethal and eyes calculating. He skidded to a stop, swallowing hard as he looked at me then at Rick over my shoulder.

"Look, we had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew, nothing." Who the fuck are Tomas and Andrew?

"Porn and Kevin Hart," T answered absently. I said that out loud? Jeez, I was more tired than I realized.

"You tried to prove a point. You proved it bro." Axel was speaking with passion, his desire to get out of their cellblock evident. "We'll do whatever it takes to be part of your group just please...please don't make us live in that place."

"Our deal in non-negotiable," Rick told him. "You either live in your cellblock or you leave."

Word.

"I told you this was a waste of time," Oscar said to his friend. "They ain't no different than the pricks who shot up our boys." His last words were aimed at me and I flinched at the accusation, afraid he saw something I desperately tried to keep hidden. Daryl moved forward standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me as he glared daggers at the man. "You know how many friends' corpses we had to drag out this week?"

I understood his pain, truly I did, but he was aiming his gun at the wrong person. I hadn't started this epidemic. I was just trying to survive it.

"Do you know how many we've buried this year?" I shot back. He'd been struggling for a _week_. We'd suffered for over a year. He couldn't hold my gaze, but he continued to plead his case to Rick.

"We just threw them out like..." His voice broke, unable to finish the sentence. "These were good guys. Good guys who had our backs in the joint against some really bad dudes like Tomas and Andrew. Now we've all made mistakes to get in here Chief and I'm not going to pretend to be a saint, but believe me...we've paid our dues enough that we would rather hit that road than to go back into that shithole."

Spoken like a man who didn't have a clue what the fuck he was talking about. Rick looked at him for a moment before glancing first at Daryl then me. Our answer the same. No.

"Daryl escort them out and lock the gate." I practically heard Axel's jaw hit the ground in shock. Never bluff unless you were willing to lose it all. While Daryl led the men out the rest of us gathered behind the overturned bus as T suddenly went turncoat.

"Are you serious?" Rick asked in disbelief. "You want them living in the cell next to you? They'll just be waiting for a chance to grab a weapon. You wanna go back to sleeping with one eye open?"

"I never stopped," T admitted and I found logic in his answer. I hardly _ever_ slept so I didn't have a leg to stand on here. "Bring them into the fold. We send them off packing we may as well execute them ourselves." He sounded a lot like Dale.

Glenn sighed, "I don't know. Axel seems a little unstable."

Rick glanced at me for confirmation. "He's not unstable. He's scared." T nodded at me in approval and I held my hand up. "Doesn't mean I agree with you."

"After all we've been through," Carol said. "We fought so hard for all this. What if they decide to take it?"

Two guys with limited weapons and no experience? Yeah, I wasn't worried about them taking the prison. I was however worried about them taking a life.

"It's just been us for so long. They're strangers. It feels weird all of a sudden having other people around." Maggie crossed he arms over her chest, swaying back-and-forth with nerves.

"You brought us in," T countered her argument. _Check_.

"Yeah, but you turned up with a shot boy in your arms. Didn't give us a choice." _Checkmate_.

"They can't even kill walkers."

"Their convicts bottom line," Carol said and I stiffened. If that was the criteria for who we let in and who we kept out I should be on the other side of that fence. It didn't matter what those two did to land in here it was nothing compared to what I'd done.

"Those two might actually have less blood on their hands than we do."

It felt like a knife piercing my heart when Daryl looked at me. It was only a glance, barely a second, but I saw it. Axel and Oscar may have blood on their hands, but I was hardly able to keep my head above the blood I was swimming in. He realized his mistake the moment he made it, his blue eyes shining with regret, but the damage was done. I clamped my lips together to keep from lashing out.

"I get guys like this," Daryl told the group, eyes searching my face for forgiveness I didn't grant as I let my gaze fall to the ground, unable to stand the sting of his betrayal. "Hell, I grew up with 'em. Their degenerates, but they ain't psychos. I could have been in here just as easy as I'm with you guys."

I tuned him out, too caught up in my own head to follow the conversation taking place around me. People always showed you how they felt. Maybe not with words, those were unreliable, but actions always told the truth. All you had to do was pay attention. The second T mentioned blood stained hands Daryl's eyes found mine before he could reign in the impulse. It was instinct, internal programming he was helpless to overcome based on what he knew about me. I understood it, but it didn't stop me from feeling gutted where I stood. I ignored the sympathetic looks from Carol and Maggie too busy listening to the words _killer, murderer, evil_ inside my head.

"Then you're with me?"

Daryl scoffed, "Hell no. Let 'em take their chances out on the road just like we did."

"What I'm saying Daryl..."

Rick cut him off, "When I was a rookie I arrested this kid, 19 years-old, wanted for stabbing his girlfriend. The kid blubbered like a baby during the interrogation and during the trial. Suckered the jury. He was acquitted due to insufficient evidence." He paused, hands on his hips. "Two weeks later he shot another girl." His face looked haunted by the memory. "We've been through too much. Our deal with them stands."

I pivoted on my heel, stalking back up the path towards the cars, ignoring Daryl as he called my name. We shouldn't talk right now. I needed time to calm down so I didn't say or do something I'd regret later.

"Alex!" he tried again, jogging to catch up with me. "Will ya wait a second?"

"Don't." I kept walking, eyes forward, refusing to stop.

"Goddamn it woman, stop." He grabbed my hand and I rounded on him, pulling my hand free and stepping back as I shot him a warning look. Choose your next actions carefully my body language shouted. He held his hands up, but didn't step away. "Ya can't keep doin' this."

"Doing what Daryl?" The group passed by, giving us a wide birth as we stared each other down like gun slingers in the Wild West.

"They ain't got nothin' to do with ya." He pointed towards the fence where Axel and Oscar were still standing looking like puppy's that were passed over for adoption.

"Who has more blood on their hands?" I ground out. "They may be the convicts, but I'm the criminal, right?"

He shook his head, running his hands through is hair. "You. Ain't. Them."

I laughed, "You're right. I'm worse."

"Stop." He took a step towards me, completely ignoring the fact it was likely to end with him bleeding. "The things ya did were different than what put them here. Stop punishin' yurself."

"That's rich coming from you." Now it was my turn to feel regret as his face clouded with anger. This was why we shouldn't be talking. I was unable to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth no matter how much I wanted to. My need to make someone hurt like I hurt too much to contain.

He gave me a condescending look, his teeth dragging over his lips. "Believe whatever the hell ya want."

He stomped off, following the others as I stood there for another minute breathing hard, remorse heavy on my shoulders. This was my fault. Yes, he made a mistake, but he was trying to fix it and I hurt him simply because I could. Sighing I tightened my ponytail, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my hands before swiftly turning and catching up with the others.

I could fix this. I _would_ fix this.

"Move the cars to the open yard. Point them facing out. They'll be out of the way, but ready to go if we ever need to bail."

Carol, Maggie and I nodded at his instructions as Glenn jogged away towards the locked exterior gate so we could get the rest of the cars inside. My skin itched to reach out and touch Daryl, but I kept my hands to myself when he refused to even look in my general direction. I had a lot of fixing to do.

I squinted into the sun as I watched Glenn locking the exterior gate, Axel holding a box of provisions in his hands. Waste of resources if you asked me, but Rick was a softie on the inside no matter how he acted. I waited for Carol to back up the suburban. Hoping she didn't run me over in the process. I waved her on, stepping to the side as she slowly reversed. Rick, Glenn and Daryl were outside the main fence, gathering wood for our walker bonfire. The engine of the truck roared to life, snapping me out of my daze, and I leapt out of the way as the vehicle shot past me.

"Sorry!" Carol said absently, hitting the brakes.

"You can't drive for shit."

She stuck her head out the window. "I can drive. I just can't back up."

"Backing up is part of driving Carol. If you can't do that you can't drive." It took ten more minutes, two more close calls and what amounted to little more than a miracle before I was able to successfully guide Carol and the suburban to safety. When she stepped out she smiled at me.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

I frowned at her, "You almost ran me over. Twice. Next time I drive you assist."

She rolled her eyes at me, but our attention was drawn to the door of the prison. I couldn't believe my eyes as Lori stepped out ahead of Hershel who was making his way down the stairs on a pair of crutches less than a week after losing a limb. That man was harder than Superman's kneecap. He stumbled a little at the first stair, losing his balance, but Beth and Lori easily righted him and he continued down.

"Alright Hershel!" Glenn yelled from behind me and I grimaced, my hand going to my knife on instinct as I looked around for any walkers. I relaxed when I found the area clear and watched as Hershel made his way across the old basketball court flanked by Lori, Beth and Carl.

"Your old man is tough as nails," I told Maggie who grinned.

"Can you believe it?"

I shook my head, "With Hershel, I'd believe anything."

Everyone stood there, basking in what felt like a major victory, and damn if it didn't feel good. Carl sent me a wave I promptly returned, and I shot Maggie a knowing look. Favorite Aunt was in the bag.

"Quit, it's not a competition," she scolded.

"Says the one losing." She wrapped her arm around my shoulder giving me a side hug, but before I could return the gesture a tingle shot down my spine. A sense of foreboding so intense the tiny hairs on my arm stood on end as my eyes darted everywhere, trying to identify the source. My throat went dry when I saw them. "Oh my god," I muttered as I took off at a sprint towards the group in the courtyard. "Walkers!"

Carl looked up, his hand coming up to shield his eyes against the sun as he frowned at me. A group of walkers were right behind them and they had yet to see them. I screamed again, but no one could understand me from so far away and I pumped my arms and legs harder, faster.

"Walkers!" I tried again, pointing behind him and he turned slowly. I heard him repeat my warning as the four of them backed up, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. I pulled my PPQ from my leg holster and a knife from my sheath as I closed the distance. I could hear Maggie, Carol and T running behind me, their cries drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Still sprinting I aimed at the closest walker, firing a shot that took him down as Beth helped Hershel stumble towards a fenced off area in the corner of the courtyard. My shot snapped Lori out of her stunned stupor and she pulled a six shooter pistol from her pants, squeezing off a round. I fired another shot, killing a walker that was trailing Beth and Hershel, giving them the time they needed to get up the stairs. Once I was inside the courtyard I made a beeline for Lori and Carl, firing at a group of walkers trying to surround them. If felt like the walkers were coming from every direction as they spilled into the courtyard. Where were they all coming from? We cleared this part of the prison.

I heard the frantic shouts of Glenn, Rick and Daryl, but knew they were too far away to help. I fired twice in rapid succession, dropping two walkers as I yanked on Carl's shirt, pulling him away from danger and dragging him behind me. The boy fired to our left, successful killing a walker, but I kept backing them up as I fired again and again. Maggie charged in, shooting at the all too plentiful targets before looking around with dread filled eyes. I pointed to the right and she nodded, taking aim.

"Make your shots count!" I yelled over the mayhem, but knew it wouldn't matter. We had limited ammunition and there were too many for us to handle. It was like bailing out water on a sinking ship until you plugged the hole you were only postponing the inevitable. The walkers were coming from somewhere, and until we plugged the hole they would just keep coming until we were overrun. I fired three more rounds, but was forced to retreat back as the wall of walkers in front of me surged forward. I kept my body between them and the mother and son behind me as I searched for any means of escape.

"Alex!" I don't know how I heard Daryl's scream over the chaos taking place in the courtyard, but I did. I wanted to look at him, find strength in his blue eyes, say goodbye, tell him I was sorry, but the swarm of walkers made it impossible.

"Move back!" I ordered Lori and Carl. Maggie fell into step beside me, the two of us forming a wall of protection around the child and pregnant woman. "Find us a way out of here."

"I can't leave you," she insisted.

I fired again, the slide locking in the open position, my weapon empty. In less than five seconds I dropped the magazine, pulled a spare from my waist, loaded it and chambered a round. Not a moment too soon as a walker dove at me. I caught him around the throat, holding him back just far enough to tuck my gun under his chin and pulled the trigger.

"Go!" I screamed at her. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she complied, ushering Carl and Lori further away from the walkers.

"The gate is open," T screamed before firing. I looked in the back of the courtyard, seeing the chains on the fence we secured days ago lying on the ground. We found our leak. Now we had to plug it.

"Stay with them," I told him.

"No," he argued, "I got it."

He was running forward before I could stop him and I steadied my hand, clearing a path for him as best I could with multiple well placed shots. My face paled when I Carol followed him, shooting at walkers as she went.

"Lori, Carl, Alex, here!" Maggie yelled. I kept firing, desperate to protect T and Carol, but Lori's panicked scream made me glance over my shoulder. Maggie killed walker only feet away, her eyes pleaded with me to come with them.

"Close the door!"

She shook her head, the stubbornness that always pissed me off rearing its ugly head. "Not without you!"

"Goddamn it," I murmured, firing at one walker before stabbing another in the head that was dangerously close. Pulling the knife out of his head I looked for T and Carol, but couldn't see them through the mass of walkers. Please be OK I whispered before sprinting towards Lori, slamming the door closed once I was inside.

Maggie led us inside the cellblock and we raced across the man cave heading for the safety of our cellblock, but before we could get there a walkers emerged from thin air in the doorway then another and another. I skidded to a stop, shooting two of the three as Maggie grabbed Carl and Lori, dragging them back the way we came. The slide on my PPQ locked back signaling another empty weapon, but there was no reloading this time. I cursed, tossing the useless weapon to the ground as I followed them. I didn't have any more ammunition and if I was going to die, which was likely, I wouldn't need it anymore. We darted through a side door leading to bowels of the prison, Maggie and I slamming it closed just before the remaining walkers followed us. Our eyes locked as we panted and I squeezed her shoulder, grabbing another knife.

"Come on." I led us down a pitch black hallway with Carl to my left, using the wall to feel my way along. We'd never been down this way before and I had no idea where it led or what we'd find, but the smart money said it was nothing good. We hadn't been walking long when a blaring alarm sounded and I stopped, looking behind me.

"What is that?" Maggie shrieked, hands covering her ears.

"Alarm," I answered, stating the obvious. "Better question is how is it going off?"

There was no power running to the prison so how was an internal alarm triggered? Suddenly all the pieces fell into place. Someone was sabotaging us. The broken chain, the walkers and now the alarm. It was the only explanation that made any sense. My mind immediately went to Axel and Oscar, but something about that didn't sit right with me. I listened to their pleas this morning, watched their faces for any signs of deceit and found none. Their desire to be included in our group was genuine. My gut told me they weren't behind this.

"Doesn't matter," Lori wheezed, "We can't stay here." I frowned, taking in her pain filled face and hands cradling her belly. For the first time today my stomach clenched in fear.

"Lori?" She braced her hand against the wall ignoring my question, a moan of agony spilling out as she hunched forward.

"It's the baby," she said, gasping for breath as my mouth dropped open.

"The baby?" I repeated. Trying to make sense of what she was saying. She looked at me, desperation on her face and I nodded, putting my arm around her waist as I helped her forward. Nugget was coming, now. "Carl, find us somewhere to hide."

"Something's not right." Lori leaned against me and I struggled to hold her weight as she cried out from the pain of another contraction.

"Is she bit?" Maggie asked.

I looked at her and Carl, swallowing hard as I said, "The baby's coming."

Maggie paled and I knew I was wearing an identical expression. This was bad, really bad. Lori told Hershel she needed a C-section to deliver Carl due to complications, and the veterinarian informed us in all likelihood she would need one with Nugget. It would be a tricky delivery fraught with danger for both mother and baby even with the medical supplies we had stashed upstairs and a veterinarian behind the wheel. Down here we had no medical supplies, a terrified child, a farmer's daughter with limited medical knowledge, and a former assassin whose medical expertise ranged more in the _giving_ of wounds than _healing_ them.

"Mom," Carl cried, moving towards his mother, but a group of walkers rounded the corner.

"Back!" Maggie yelled as we drug Lori between us, the laboring woman dead weight.

Carl was in the lead, gun held high as he checked every doorway and corridor just like he'd been taught. We neared the end of another hallway, but the guttural moan of walkers cut us off, forcing us to backtrack again. Lori was panting hard, grunting as she suffered through far too many contractions in such a short period of time. I didn't know much about childbirth, but everyone knew the closer the contractions the closer the arrival of the baby. The way she was laboring she might give birth to Nugget in the hallway if we didn't find somewhere soon.

"In here." Carl pulled open a metal door and we drug Lori inside. I could hear Carl banging on the door, trying to close it all the way, but the frame was bent preventing it from closing properly.

"Leave it," I told him, guiding Lori down a set of stairs. The sound of the walkers passing by had us all on edge as we waited to see if they discovered our hiding spot. I moved to the pregnant woman who was holding onto a chain for support, looking her up and down.

"How close are the contractions?" Her cry of pain as another contraction hit was answer enough and my arms flew around her, helping her stay upright as she suffered through it. "Breathe. Breathe Lori."

I had no idea what the hell I was saying, but in the movies they always said shit like that to women about to give birth. Oh my god, she was about to give birth. We needed a doctor.

"I'm going to get Hershel," I stated.

Lori screamed, grabbing my arm and almost broke a bone. "You can't...it's too late...you'll never make it back in time."

"She's right," Maggie agreed, "And even you could get past all the walkers and find him he's moving too slow." Lori let go of the chains, walking away and bracing her arms against a steam pipe. Her face was too pale, a thin sheen of sweat covering her face.

"Lori, let's lay you down," Maggie suggested.

"The baby's coming now." She said it like it was a death sentence and I swallowed hard because I knew she was right.

"We have to try to get back to our cellblock," Carl insisted and my eyes flicked to Maggie. She nodded, moving to stand next to the boy, arms around his shoulders as she tried to calm him down. "We have to get Hershel just like Alex said!"

She knelt in front of him as Lori was wracked by another contracting, squeezing my hand so hard I cried right along with her. "We can't risk getting caught out in the open. We're gonna have to give birth to the baby here."

"Come on Lori." She was panting hard as I slowly lowered her down to the ground.

"What's wrong? Can't she breathe?"

"Maggie," I barked when the young woman froze up.

"She's fine Carl."

She most certainly was not fine, but if it helped calm him down she could say whatever the hell she wanted. I got Lori on the ground. Taking off her pants and trying to remember every ounce of medical knowledge I was ever taught. I was woefully unprepared for this. If you wanted to know which bones hurt the most when broken I was your girl. If you needed to know where to stab someone and not kill them I was happy to help. Learning how to birth a human never came up in my previous line of work.

"I'm going to need help delivering Nugget," I told Carl and Maggie, trying to keep my voice steady even though I was freaking the fuck out. "You guys up for it?" The both nodded mutely at me. Great start. "Maggie, did your dad ever teach you anything about this?"

"Uh, he, I can see if she's dilated."

I nodded, "Good, come here and check." I moved slightly to the side as she crawled forward on her hands and knees examining Lori. She pulled back a moment later, looking at me with an apology.

"I can't tell," she admitted. I squeezed her hand, letting her know it was alright. None of us were prepared for this.

"I gotta push." I frowned. I wasn't an obstetrician, but she didn't look anywhere near 10 centimeters dilated which was what she needed to be to push. Hell, she wasn't even one centimeter dilated, but what was I supposed to do, tell her no?

"OK."

She sat up, "I gotta push. Oh, I gotta push."

"You wanna stand up?" She nodded and Maggie and I helped her to her feet as she held onto a set of bars, taking a few deep breaths before bearing down hard.

"Somebody!" she cried and my heart broke as I took her hand. "I'm OK. I'm OK."

"Let your body do the work," Maggie encouraged, "It knows what to do." At least someone in the room did.

She bore down as another contraction hit and it became painfully obvious something was seriously wrong. Blood was pouring down her legs and I screamed for her to stop pushing, but she hollered something about another one and kept going.

"Get her on the ground," I said, my hands coated in her blood. The alarms finally stopped as I gently lowered her head to the ground, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, sweat soaking her brown hair.

"Mom, mom look at me. Keep your eyes open," Carl urged as he knelt near her head. I moved down her body, examined her again and shaking my head at Maggie. No change. I pressed my lips together, trying to think of something, _anything_ , to save them both.

"We have to get her back to Dad."

Lori's eyes opened, her face ashen. "I'm not gonna make it."

"Let her push!" Carl shouted at me.

I ignored him, "Lori, you're not dilated. No amount of pushing is going to change that."

"I know what it means," she told me with a look of resignation.

"No," I told her shaking my head. "No way."

"I'm not losing my baby." She stared at me as a tear slipped down my face. "You promised you'd protect Nugget and now you're gonna do it."

"Lori please..."

She interrupted me, "You gotta cut me open." Maggie's eyes went wide, hands flying to her mouth as I let my tears fall in earnest now.

"No," I begged.

"You promised," she mumbled, fighting to stay conscious. "There's no other choice."

"I'll go get Hershel." Carl stood up, moving to the door, but Maggie grabbed him, pulling him back as she sobbed with the boy in her arms.

"Listen to me, I don't know what I'm doing. Carol was the one practicing. I can't... If I do this..."

"Please." I couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe what she was asking. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't.

"I have no anesthetic, no way to stop the bleeding, no supplies," I pleaded with her.

She smiled sadly, "You have a knife."

I stared at her for at beat. "You'll die." Not to mention the pain would be worse than she could possibly imagine. I knew that for a fact.

"My baby has to survive. _Nugget_ has to survive." She was crying now as she reached for my blood soaked hand, her own ice cold. "Please...my baby...for all of us. Please Alex! Please!"

She continued to beg me to save the life of her child at the expense of her own. I sobbed, nodding my head as I agreed. I'd killed many people in my life, and it was never easy, but this would be the first time I killed a friend. For Nugget's sake I hoped I had the strength to do it. She motioned for Carl to come to her as I drew a knife, sinking back on my heels as I waited. I watched the mother and son embracing like I was floating outside my body. It felt like I was hovering near the ceiling, a voyeur intruding on their most private moment, their last moment.

"Baby I don't want you to be scared," Lori told him. Carl looked stricken, but he was holding up better than me. "This is what I want. This is right. You...you take care of your daddy for me alright? And your little brother or sister, you take care of them."

"Why do you have to do this?" The heartbreak in his voice made me look away, unable to bear his sadness.

"You're going to be fine. You're gonna beat this world," she affirmed, "I know you will. You _are_ smart. You _are_ strong and you _are_ so brave and I love you."

"I love you too," he sniffled. Maggie grabbed my hand, the two of us trying to hold each other together long enough to do what had to be done.

"You gotta do what's right baby. Promise me you'll always do what's right?" Her voice broke and I looked up. "It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. So...so if it feels wrong don't do it. Alright? If it feels easy don't do it. Don't let the world spoil you." Her voice cracked as she tried to finish her deathbed confession. "You're so good." She wiped the tears from his face with a sad smile. "My sweet boy. You're the best thing I ever did. I love you," she choked out the last words as Carl fell into her, the two of them embracing for the last time.

It was strange how something so breathtakingly beautiful was born from something so tragic. I never experienced the kind of motherly love Lori felt for Carl, but in that moment the room was filled with so much pure, unadulterated love it felt like it might burst. Some people didn't believe in love because they couldn't see it. They were wrong. In that room I witnessed true love as clear as I saw the family in front of me. I saw it in the little boy crying for his mother and the brave woman sacrificing her life for her unborn child. They held each other as Maggie wept beside me and I put my arm around her, hugging her to me.

She kissed him one last time and then pulled away, "OK, OK now. Alex, when this is over you're going to have to..."

"Shhh!" Maggie cut in, unable to hear any more.

"No, no you have to do it," she insisted, "It can't be Rick." I covered my face with my hands, breathing erratically as I nodded, words failing me. I didn't just have to kill her. I had to kill her twice. "OK, alright, it's alright," she muttered, her eyes drooping. She looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep inhale. "Goodnight love."

I hope Rick heard her.

I lifted her shirt up, my knife shaking in my hand as I whispered, "I'm sorry."

I cut across her abdomen, following the line of her old C-section scar as best I could. She screamed. A sound so soul-shattering, so gut-wrenching I knew it would haunt me long after my bones turned to dust. Blood poured out of the knife wound as she continued to wail, Maggie holding her down a best she could until she finally passed out from blood loss and shock. I barely heard Carl shouting at me as I cut through her stomach muscles and sinew, racing against the clock to save Nugget. We couldn't lose them both. I wouldn't allow it.

"Maggie, give me your hands."

She reached in, holding the two flaps of skin apart while I searched for the uterine wall. Once I saw it I picked up the knife, hesitating slightly before pressing the blade against the sac as gently as I possible. One slip, one wrong move, and I killed them both.

"I see the baby," I said, reaching in and pulling the opening wider. "I see the baby. I'm going to pull it out." I reached inside, feeling around as I gingerly grabbed onto what felt like a foot, but could easily be a hand, the limited light and incredibly tight space making it hard to tell the difference. "I can't tell...I don't know if this is an arm or a leg. Shit," I cursed as the appendage slipped through my fingers. Reaching down I fumbled for a hold, exhaling sharply when my fingers wrapped around something. "I'm going to pull the baby out."

"OK," Carl mumbled in a monotone voice.

I tugged and pulled, trying to fit Nugget through the incision site without causing any damage. I pulled one last time and she was out. _She_. It was a little girl. She was covered in so much blood and mucus I struggled to keep a solid hold on her.

"She's not crying," Maggie said in distress.

My eyes darted all over the newborn, my heart racing as I opened up her tiny mouth and swept two fingers inside, scooping out the amniotic fluid and mucous. When she still didn't cry, her body turning a terrifying shade of blue I flipped her over, my hand across her chest as I massaged her back.

"Come on Nugget," I commanded, massaging and patting the impossibly small infant. "Breathe."

Without warning she wiggled, arms and legs flailing in all directions as she let out the most beautiful cry I'd ever heard. Maggie gasped as Carl smiled slightly, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to me so I could bundle her up. I wrapped her in the jacket, Maggie picking up my knife and severing the umbilical cord. We needed to move, quickly. The girl had a solid set of lungs on her and while that was great it was bound to attract every walker roaming the prison. Plus, she needed food, and with Lori gone we had no way to feed her. Lori. We couldn't leave her like this.

"We have to go," Maggie insisted and I nodded, standing up and getting ready to hand Nugget over, but Carl stopped me.

"No," he said, already drawing his pistol.

"Carl," I begged, "Let me do it." I wanted to spare him this. No one should have to kill their mother.

"She was my mom," he insisted. My eyes flicked to Maggie and she swallowed hard. I looked back at him, watching the tears run down his face and looked at Lori. What should I do? What would she want? What would Rick want? "Please Alex," he pleaded.

My eyes snapped to his and I gave him a jerky nod before turning and heading up the stairs with Maggie, giving him as much privacy as we could manage in such a small space. I waited at the door holding Nugget against my chest, my shoulders shaking as I cried. I cried for the fearless friend I lost. I cried for the baby in my arms who would never know her mother. I cried for the boy I loved who was being forced to grow up too fast. Maggie cracked open the door, making sure the coast was clear before ducking back in just as a gunshot rang out. I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut as I cradled the back of Nugget's head. Hershel believed in heaven. I wasn't sure what I believed, but wherever Lori was now I promised her I would protect her children, with my life if necessary.

When Carl made it up the stairs his face was blank and eyes vacant. He walked right passed us without a second glance. In that moment I cursed this world for what it made you give. For what it took from you. I loathed what it was doing to the little boy I loved. Maggie and Carl led us back through the maze of hallways, but I hardly paid attention. The only thing I was consciously aware of was the little girl in my arms. I looked down at her and saw her tiny eyes staring back at me as she squirmed.

"Shhh, Nugget. I gotcha. I won't ever let anything hurt you," I vowed.

She yawned, snuggling into my arms as I continued forward, dreading the moment we found our way out. Carl pushed open a door and the sunlight blinded me as we walked out finding ourselves back on the courtyard. I didn't hear any walkers, but the change in lighting was enough to wake Nugget who cried despite my attempts to console her. Maggie held the gate open for me and I shuffled forward, my hands stained to my elbows in Lori's blood, my body shaking like a leaf as I watched the group watching me. My eyes flicked from shocked face to shocked face until they landed on Rick and stopped. He looked at me and the bundle in my arms in disbelief. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing and I found myself at a loss for words.

"I...I..." I couldn't finish the sentence because there was absolutely nothing to say. No words that would offer him any comfort. I froze in place, watching the distraught man walk forward, the axe in his hand dropping to the ground. He walked forward in slow motion, each step bringing him closer to understanding. His eyes watered as I continued to cry openly. "Mmm...I didn't...She...We got...," I mumbled incoherently.

He paced in front of me every like a caged lion, every emotion known to man crossing his face in seconds. "Lori? Where is she?"

"She didn't...I couldn't...I tried," I sobbed, hunching forward and hugging Nugget closer as I shook my head in answer. He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what I was telling him. It took him a few seconds, but I saw the instant he realized his wife was gone. The light faded from his eyes as he stalked towards the cellblock.

"N-n-no," I stuttered, too quiet for him to hear or maybe he simply didn't care. Either way he kept going. "Don't."

"No!" Maggie shouted at the same time, finally finding her voice. She reached for him and I backed away when he brushed her off with a cold look, but she was undeterred. "Rick no!"

Something in her voice stopped him and it was only then he noticed Carl. The boy was staring at the ground, unmoving, face a disturbing shade of white. Rick looked to the sky, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Oh no!" he cried, "Oh noooooo!"

I curled into myself, the sound of his anguish sobs like a thousand gunshot wounds hitting me at once. He continued to call out for his dead wife, crying as he walked around aimlessly, but I couldn't see him through my tears. I didn't _want_ to see him. I didn't want to see anything. I didn't _want_ to hear anything. And then suddenly he was standing in front of me and I fell apart. Daryl reached out, cupping the sides of my face, his own filled with grief.

"I'm sorry," I bawled, "I tried. I swear I tried. I couldn't save her. The baby was coming and she was bleeding and I don't..."

"Shhh." He pulled me closer, careful of Nugget as she slept in my arms, blissfully unaware of the world falling apart around her. "Easy Red."

It had been eight months since we lost someone and in one afternoon it was all swept away like sand carried out to sea by the ocean tide. Gone, erased, like they had never been here at all. The only proof they ever existed our tears on the blood stained concrete.

* * *

 **Lots of feels in this chapter. I hope you felt the sorrow, the anguish, and the helplessness as this chapter progressed. All in a good way of course :) This was such an emotional turning point for the show I really hope I did it justice.**

 ** **Let me know!****


	24. Way Down We Go

**Way Down We Go**

Nugget's screams brought me back to the harsh reality we were facing. The tiny newborn in my arms felt like the only thing tethering me to the world at the moment. Her desperate pleas for food a reminder of an imaginary clock steadily ticking as she got closer to starvation with each passing second. She needed food and her mother, the only one capable of providing it, was dead. Daryl's lips thinned as he pressed a kiss to my forehead before walking passed me to Rick. He knelt in front of him, calling his name as he waved a hand in the catatonic man's face. There was no indication he heard him, his gaze distant as sat on the ground, the shock of his loss too much to overcome. Whatever we were going to do we were on our own.

"Let me see the baby," Hershel said and I shuffled to him.

"What are we gonna feed it?" Daryl asked, having given up on Rick for the time being. "We got anything a baby can eat?"

No, we didn't. Lori asked us to keep a lookout for the essentials months ago, diapers, clothes and formula. Even then she was preparing for the worst, but every shop we raided and house we ransacked was devoid of any powered formula.

Hershel looked her over quickly with a sad smile before announcing, "The good news is she's healthy, but she needs formula and soon or she won't survive."

Whatever bubble I was floating in popped, my body stiffening. I knew what he said was true, knew it back in the steam room, but hearing it was jarring. Carl moved forward, stopping beside me, curious as he watched his little sister continuing to wail in my arms. Rearranging the tiny bundle I transferred her to him. He looked terrified to hold her so I gave him an encouraging smile. It was a testament to our utter lack of preparation that everyone felt more comfortable fighting walkers than holding a baby. Once she was safely in her brother's arms I stepped back, smiling sadly as I watched the siblings, wishing desperately their mother had lived long enough to see this.

"Nope. No way. Not her. We ain't losin' nobody else. I'm going for a run." Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder, striding away with renewed purpose, his body a solid mass of determination.

"I'll back you up," Maggie said.

"I'll go too." There was no way Glenn would let Maggie go without him. Not after today. Probably not ever again.

I looked between the pair then down at my hands, choking on bile as I examined the red stains marring my pale skin. Swallowing hard I silently followed them. If anyone was going it was me. I was the one who killed Lori. It was my fault Nugget was at risk. I had to do something. I had to keep my promise.

"OK, think of where we're going," Daryl yelled to the couple, not noticing me trailing in their wake. He motioned for Beth to follow him, but I ignored everyone as I made my way to his bike. I checked my weapons and remembered I didn't have my PPQ, only my knives.

Turning to Glenn I held my hand out, "Give me your weapon."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me. "Alex…"

"Give it to me. We don't have time for this."

He looked at Maggie whose face was pinched with concern as she watched me closely. There were only three souls in the entire world who knew what happened in that steam room and she was one of them. She was worried about me, that much was clear, and I appreciated the concern, but it didn't change anything. Glenn reluctantly handed me his weapon which I quickly checked, making sure it was fully loaded before holstering it. I looked over their shoulders and saw Daryl and Beth with their heads together, talking in rushed whispers, but before I could wonder what that was about I noticed our headcount was off. My eyes scanned the courtyard, counting bodies with a frown only to backtrack and start over when the numbers didn't add up.

"Where are Carol and T?"

My eyes shifted to Glenn and he licked his lips unable to hold my gaze, a slow shake of his head my only answer. I swayed on my feet, vision going dark around the edges, a loud buzzing flaring in my ears as Maggie reached out to steady me. No. It couldn't be. We couldn't have lost them too, but as tried counting again only to come up short I knew we had. I shouldn't be surprised. I knew when the two of them charged into a herd of walkers it might be the last time I saw them, but I hoped they would find a way out. That's the thing about hope. It didn't care what you wanted. I swallowed the painful lump in my throat, a lesson from a lifetime ago floating to the forefront of my mind. _  
_

_It can always get worse_.

I was a fool to forget that heartbreaking lesson. The pain in my heart was enough to steal the air from my lungs as I mourned not one friend, but three. Carol. T. Gone. Those three words were playing on an endless loop in my head and I was powerless to stop it.

"You guys get the fence!" Daryl yelled, "Too many pile up we got ourselves a problem. Glenn, Maggie, Alex, vamos!"

"I don't think she should come." Glenn's voice sounded far away, like he was speaking at the end of a long tunnel. I looked at him, but his silhouette was fuzzy around the edges and I shook my head in an effort to clear my vision. "Look at her."

I took a deep inhale, shrugging out of Maggie's hold with a stumble. "I'm fine." I _wasn't_ fine. I was about as far from fine as I had ever been, but the hounds of Hell couldn't keep me from going on this run.

"Rick!" Hershel called out, the three of us turning just in time to see the widower pick up his axe and head into the cellblock. I closed my eyes, trying to get my breathing and equilibrium under control. Going down there was a mistake, but it was his mistake to make. There was no way to keep him from going if he was determined to go. I pushed the images of Lori's dead, mutilated body from my mind before I collapsed.

"Get the gate! Come on we're gonna lose the light!" Daryl's command of the situation almost made me smile. Almost. He was stepping up when we needed him most. Becoming the leader, the man, I always knew was hidden inside. It was a shame it took something like this to bring it to light.

"There's a Piggly Wiggly on 85," Glenn suggested as we ran towards the cars.

"There's nothing there," I replied, "Lori…she asked me to keep a lookout."

"She's right. We've haven't had much luck," Maggie confirmed.

Daryl pulled his crossbow off, stopping at his bike. "Is there any place that hasn't been completely looted?"

"We saw signs for a shopping center just north of here." I remembered the spot Glenn was talking about. Remember him marking the map so we could check it out later. Later had just become now.

"There are too many cars on the road. We'll never make it through," Maggie stated, standing behind the open car door.

"Then we take the bike," I suggested.

"I can only take one of ya." Glenn and Maggie looked at me, but I was already swinging my leg over the bike as Daryl donned his vest and horse blanket.

"Alex wait." Glenn jogged over, wringing his hands in discomfort. "After everything…maybe…maybe you should let me go."

Daryl's watched me carefully, but I kept my chin high, curling my hands into fists to conceal the shaking. "I have to go."

"I was there too," Maggie said, her voice shaking harder than my hands. "It wasn't just you."

Daryl swung his leg over the bike as I gave her a grim smile. "I know, but I promised."

Glenn looked between us as we remembered what might be the darkest moments in our lives to date. She swallowed hard, reaching for Glenn's hand. "Be careful."

She handed me a backpack which I slung on my shoulders as Daryl kick started the bike and tore out of the prison. I wrapped my hands around his waist, resting my head between his shoulder blades, taking a moment to compose myself on the ride. The bike's engine roared as he twisted on the throttle, the bumps in the uneven road lulling me into a hypnotic trance as we raced against the clock to save Nugget's life. We headed in the direction of the shopping center Glenn mentioned, but a nagging doubt in my gut told me we wouldn't find anything and we didn't have time to waste looting empty stores. Every second we were gone was a second that brought the little girl closer to death. As we approached the shopping center Daryl slowed down, pulling the bike to the side off the road as we scrutinized the area.

"Whatcha think?"

Peering around his shoulder I grimaced. The place was a mess. Windows were shot out, cars overturned, bodies lying dead in the streets, trash blowing in the wind and more than a few walkers roaming around aimlessly. All-in-all it looked like shit.

"We don't have time for this," I grumbled, turning and looking behind me, squinting as I tried to see through the trees.

"Ain't got no choice."

"Turn around." He glanced at me over his shoulder in question. "There's a road back there. I think…I think I saw a house."

He didn't seem convinced but he did it anyway. He'd probably rather shoot himself with an arrow, again, than argue with me right now. I was holding myself together with duct tape and dreams at this point. The slightest shake would send me splintering into a million pieces. He swung the bike around, taking a sharp left onto an overgrown dirt road. I squeezed his shoulder, pointing at a dilapidated house.

"I'll be damned," he exclaimed. He stopped outside the small one story home, the two of us taking in the old jungle gym and children's toys strewn around the fenced yard. My throat tightened. It was a daycare not a house.

"Company's close." He killed the engine as we both climbed off. I pulled Glenn's gun, Daryl hoisting his crossbow off the bike. "Stay tight."

We crept towards the building slowly, using our ability to communicate silently to our advantage. I signaled to the left and he nodded once, stepping slightly to his right as we cleared our designated areas outside the house. There weren't any walkers so we proceeded to the rickety fence and it took me a few hard pulls to get it open due to the overgrown grass. The rusted hinges squeaked and groaned as the gate swung open, the sound a distinct contrast to the silence of the woods.

I kept my eyes off the abandoned swing set as we made our way to the building, but my mind couldn't help but wonder what happened to the children that played here. Did any of them survive? Had someone saved them the way we were trying to save Nugget? The likelihood was small, but I wanted to believe that at least some of them made it. I needed to believe they were out there somewhere. It was the only chance we had a species. If we couldn't find a way to protect our young it was only a matter of time before we were gone. I couldn't practically hear their laughter as they ran and played, no idea the world was about to fall out from under their feet. This place was full of ghosts. Daryl fell in behind me as we climbed the stairs, watching my back as I peered through the dirty, glass panels on the front door. There were no walker's visible inside, but that didn't mean much since most of the rooms were tucked on the backside of the house. I tried the handle, locked.

"Fuck this." I used the butt of Glenn's gun to break a small pane of glass, reaching inside to unlock the door. I didn't have the time or the patience for picking locks right now. Kicking the door open I walked inside, weapon raised, scanning the room for danger. What I found was a million times worse. One wall was lined with cribs and the other covered in tiny, colorful, painted handprints with children's names scrawled in the center.

George.

Alyssa.

Sofie.

If it wasn't for Nugget I would have walked out of this room and never looked back. I'd rather face every walker roaming what was left of the Earth than see this. Sometimes it was easy to forget how much everything had changed. We were insulted, cut off from others by lack of communication. We had no way of knowing if we were the only one's left until we crossed paths with someone. It was only then that we gained insight into how far we'd fallen. This room, those handprints, was a visual reminder of our loss. A painful image painted on a wall that spoke to our inability to protect the most vulnerable of us. The odds of survival for an adult were minimal. The chances of long-term survival even less so, but children never stood a chance against this plague.

I'd never though much about having children of my own. Given my life choices I never considered it a real possibility, and that didn't even take into account my inability to maintain any semblance of a long-term relationship. As I looked around the room, at the memories of children who were probably dead, I didn't think I would ever have one. How did you bring a child into this world? My heart ached for Nugget. An innocent, little girl born into a broken world. She would never know anything but pain and loss. She would grow up holding a weapon instead of a doll. She would see the horrors of the dead eating the living. Happiness, the kind that used to fill this house every day, wouldn't even be a memory she could call on in hard times. I tore my eyes away from the wall. This was the most depressing room I'd ever been in and I once spent three months locked in an Iraqi prison.

Shrugging out of my backpack I knelt before a row of cabinets, checking them for formula. There wasn't any, but there were bottles, diapers, burp clothes and wipes. I grabbed them all, stuffing them into the backpack. I heard Daryl enter the building, but kept my eyes locked on the contents of the cabinet. If I looked at him, if I stopped for even a second, I'd probably curl up in a ball and never move again. I had to hold it together for just a little longer.

We separated in the hallway, him going right as I proceeded left. I held a flashlight in front of me under my weapon, checking behind every door and inside each room as I listened for anything that might signal a walker. The place was empty and relatively untouched which made sense. Why loot a daycare? Checking the rooms at the end of the hall I found some baby powered and a few more diapers that I stuffed in my backpack, but still no formula. A scratching sound from the other end of the house made me freeze for a second before I started back, Daryl meeting me halfway, both of us tense as we followed the sound.

The constant scratching was coming from a small room near the end of the hall. Pressing our backs against the wall on either side of the door he peeked inside, shaking his head no. Whatever was making that sound was hiding in the closet. Great, because nothing bad _ever_ happened when you opened a creepy closet doors with questionable noises coming from the other side. He motioned for me to go inside, a flashlight in his mouth as he held his crossbow, arrow notched and ready. The top half of the dutch door was open so I reached inside turning the door knob as quietly as I could and swinging the bottom half open. Daryl entered the room, a plush doll in his hand and I smiled. What a softy.

The banging and scratching got louder, my anxiety skyrocketing as I inched closer to the door, Daryl pressing himself into a corner to line up the shot. I looked over my shoulder at him and he nodded. I reached for the door, the wooden frame shaking as whatever was behind it went wild hearing my approach. Unable to handle a second more of the suspense I pulled the door open, recoiling in disgust as a possum hissed at me. I swear it sounded like it said ' _Alex'_ , creepy as fuck. It backed its hairy body further into the corner of the closet, teeth bared. Daryl wasted no time releasing an arrow, a direct hit to the animal's forehead and I cringed.

"Hello dinner," he smiled, picking it up by the tail.

"I'm gonna puke," I gagged, turning around and looking through the cabinets to distract myself. "I hope you have a plan to get that disease ridden creature back."

Possums were just nasty. I may be starving and it may be food, but I drew the line at gigantic marsupials that hissed at you like Satan himself was beckoning you. Opening the upper cabinet I exhaled sharply, my shoulders sagging with relief. Two full cans of powdered formula sat untouched on the shelf. I put them in my backpack looking for more. I found one more and tried to figure out how long it would last. It wasn't much and it definitely wasn't a long-term solution, but it was enough for now. It would buy us the time we needed. We made one last sweep through the building, but found nothing useful.

"Let's go," Daryl urged as we raced back to his bike, the sun already dipping behind the trees by the time we made it back outside. My heart was in pounding so fast in my chest it felt like it might beat its way straight through my rib cage. My doubts and fears were spiraling out of control. Were we too late? Was Nugget already gone? "Red!" Daryl hollered over the roar of his bike, his hands squeezing my arm.

I loosened my hold on him, squeezing his hand. I was holding him so tight I was liable to break him in half and that was no easy feat. "Sorry!"

He rubbed my arm briefly before grabbing the handle bar and twisting the throttle all the way back. When I saw the turnoff for the prison I mentally urged him to go faster even though I wasn't sure the bike was capable of much more. Plus, killing ourselves in our haste wouldn't help anyone. The spotlight from the prison blinked at the sound of his engine, a gunshot ringing out, a walker to our right dropping dead as we sped down the path towards the main entrance. I looked up and smiled at Glenn and Maggie as they cleared our path, Oscar and Axel banging on the fence in an effort to distract the rest. The gate swung open and we tore through it as Daryl squeezed the brakes, the bike skidding to a stop.

"Go!"

He didn't need to tell me twice. I jumped off the bike and sprinted towards the cellblock. As soon as I opened the door I heard her crying and all but flew down the steps into the man cave. I don't think my feet even touched the stairs. Carl was gently rocking his baby sister in an effort to soothe her like he did this all the time. Hershel and Beth sat nearby, identical worried expressions of their faces, but they lit up when I came racing into the room like the Tasmanian Devil. I quickly upended the contents of my backpack on a table as Beth ran over.

"How's she doing?" Daryl asked the doctor.

I didn't hear his answer, but judging by her screams I'd say she had passed hungry a long time ago. I grabbed a bottle and a can of formula as Beth opened a canteen of fresh water. I tore open the formula can, using the plastic scoop inside to measure the powered substance before dumping it into the bottle.

"How do you know how much to use?" the girl asked, but I didn't answer, too frantic at the moment for explanations. I took the canteen from her, bending down and using the ruler printed on the bottle to pour out the correct amount of water before screwing on the cap and shaking the bottle. I rolled the bottle in my hand as I made my way over to Daryl trying to warm the frigid liquid. The formula would be cold and normally babies hated that, but Nugget was so hungry she'd probably try to nurse from Daryl. And, really, who could blame her.

He took the bottle as he held her, gently swaying back-and-forth. "Shh, shh now. Come on, come on."

I stepped back, watching him with wide, surprised eyes as the baby took the nipple in her mouth, sucking down the formula with greedy slurps. Daryl smiled, looking up, his eyes finding mine and I smiled back at him. I leaned against the metal grating next to Glenn and Maggie taking in the sight before me. Another check mark for the bucket list. Daryl feeding a newborn like it was his chosen profession.

I leaned over Glenn whispering to Maggie, "Did you hear that?"

She turned to me, looking around. "Hear what?"

"The sound of my ovaries exploding."

"Oh god, please don't." She snickered as Glenn groaned.

"I'm just sayin' _that_ ," I pointed at Daryl, "Is one for the spank bank." There was absolutely no saving my panties.

Maggie nodded in agreement, the two of us high-fiving. Glenn's head swiveled to her, mouth agape. She laughed, hugging him close as he sputtered. Glenn was adorable and incredibly sweet, but Daryl was smokin'-freakin'-hot. Adorable and sweet just couldn't compete with that. I turned my attention back to the baby whisperer. He was still swaying back-and-forth, rocking her as she fed and I wondered if he even realized he was doing it. He was a natural, no big surprise. The man was good at everything he did despite what he believed. It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in a long time. I could have watched it forever.

"She got a name yet?" Daryl asked Carl.

"Besides Nugget," he answered throwing me a wink. I gave him an approving nod as he turned back to Daryl, his face going serious. "I was thinking…maybe Sophia." My heart dropped into my feet. "There's Carol too, and…Andrea, Amy, Jaquie, Patricia, or…Lori. I don't know," he trailed off and I bowed my head. The names of our dead. The one's we lost. The one's we failed to protect.

"You like that?" Daryl cooed as the baby gurgled. "Huh, you like that Lil Asskicker?"

"Oh hell no," I barked and he shot me a smug smirk. He did not get to come in here at the eleventh hour with his big bulging biceps, sexy redneck smirks, and panty melting baby skills and steal this kid's nickname right out from under me.

"What do ya say?" He looked around the room as everyone smiled. Everyone except me.

"I say no."

Even Hershel laughed. The traitor. "I like them both."

"But it's a better name right? Lil Asskicker. You like that huh? You like that sweetheart?" She cooed at him and my face softened as he peeked at me.

"It doesn't totally suck," I admitted. "We can rotate I guess."

"I think that sounds good," Beth added.

At least someone from the Greene family was willing to stand with me even if it was only half the time. I pushed off the wall, making my way out of the cellblock. Nugget would be good for at least an hour or so now that she'd been fed and I needed some time. Time to process what I'd done. Time to come to grips with the one's we lost, and I couldn't do that inside the concrete prison.

I made my way outside to the courtyard, the chilly night air a welcome contrast to the stagnant air in the cellblock. I didn't have a destination in mind, but found myself taking a left around the corner of a building, only stopping when I was sure I was out of sight of anyone who might try to follow. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself as I took several slow breaths in and out. When I opened my eyes I saw them. Three mounds of fresh dirt. Three wooden crosses.

Graves.

My back hit the wall hard as I slid down, my legs unable to support my weight as I buried my face in my hands. Huge, body shaking sobs wracked my body. My tears burned my eyes, falling so heavy and so fast the wetness coated my hands, leaking between in my fingers and dripping on my pants. This wasn't me. I didn't cry hysterically. I didn't do snot bubbles. I didn't fall apart, but I couldn't stop myself. There was no pretending like the hurt wasn't tearing me apart from the inside out. My chest burned with grief as I sank into the ground wishing it would swallow me whole. I pulled my knees to my chest and screamed, my hands clinched so tight my nails cut into the tender skin of my palms.

I knew they were gone and logically I knew we would bury them, but logic didn't live here right now. Seeing the graves was too much. It was too real. I struggled to breathe through the sorrow swallowing me. I couldn't breathe. I sputtered and choked as tried and failed to suck enough air into my lungs, still crying, still screaming. My anguished cries mixed with the moans of the dead attracted by my breakdown. For years I'd been an expert at feeling nothing. I trained relentlessly to numb myself to any and all situations, but the grief flooding my system overpowered everything. I was no stranger to this, had felt it most of my life, but despite that fact it never got easier. Grief festered and swelled because it was love with no place to go, no outlet, no release. I never thought I would feel this again after the loss of my sister, but all that vanished the moment I faced off with Daryl in the woods. I became a part of this group, opened myself up, let these people in, and now their loss was killing me. It felt like I was being sliced open over and over, a thousand tiny cuts, none fatal on their own, but the sheer number threatening to bleed me dry.

"Red?" I didn't even try to pull myself together as I lifted my head, barely able to see him through my haze of tears.

"They're gone," I sobbed.

He moved quickly, dropping to the ground beside me and gathering me in his arms. I crawled into his lap, burrowing into him as far as I could like it could somehow shield me from the truth and the pain. He didn't protest, simply held me tighter, his arms steady and solid around my shaking body.

"I don't…T…Carol," I choked on a cry, "Lori."

He rubbed my back, whispering into my ear much like he'd done with Nugget earlier. Curling my fists into his shirt I buried my head against his chest, sure I would never be able to shake this terrible feeling.

"I killed her." His hands stilled as he pulled me away from him which was a testament to his determination. He held my head in his hands, face serious, eyes so dark they looked black.

"Ya did what ya had to." I shook my head at him, the waterworks still running at full capacity. "Red, stop it. Listen to me, ya didn't kill nobody. Ya saved that little girl. There was nothin' ya could do for Lori 'cept that."

My shoulders shook as I listened and he pulled me to him again. "It hurts."

"I know." His voice wobbled as he stumbled over the two words.

I sniffled, trying to get a hold of myself. I wasn't the only one hurting right now. Those graves out there weren't just a shot directly to _my_ heart. I wasn't alone in my pain. These people meant something to him too, Carol in particular. I imagine she was as close to a best friend as he had ever come and my heart ached for his loss.

"Are you OK?"

"Gotta be." He turned away from me and I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"Don't do that. Not now. Not with me."

His breathing hitched, eyes watering slightly and I couldn't stand it. My pain was nothing compared to watching him suffer. I would gladly feel this burning ache inside my chest for the rest of my life if it meant sparing him one second of pain. I hugged him to me, the two of us trying to hold each other together. I'm not sure how long we stayed there, locked in each other's arms, but by the time he pulled away, helping each other stand, my knees ached and my back was sore.

"Come on." He took my hand, leading me away.

My eyes were so swollen from crying I could hardly see anything, but I didn't care where we went as long as we were together. He opened the door at the base of the guard tower, guiding me up the stairs, his hand never leaving mine. When he led me into the main portion of the tower, closing the door softly behind him I stopped in the middle of the room, turning around to look at him, genuinely confused.

"Why…"

His lips crashing against mine cut me off. His arms went to my hips, pulling me against his solid body as my arms automatically wrapped around his neck, my fingers sliding into his hair. He was everywhere, nipping and biting, his tongue dancing in my mouth as I melted against him. I tugged at his vest, our lips never breaking apart as he shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled on my tank top and I stepped back just long enough to raise my arms so he could pull it over my head and toss it into the corner. Our pants were next. First mine, then his and I was forever grateful to whoever invented the concept of commando. My heart was racing as I reached behind me, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the ground. His breathing hitched as he watched me strip the last of my clothes, stepping out of my panties and standing before him in nothing but my birthday suit.

"Ya deserve better than this," he whispered.

I didn't know what he meant by that. Sexy time in a guard tower? The world in general? Him? Taking a good look at his face it was painfully obvious it was the last one. Even in the dim light provided by the moon I could see his doubt and hesitation. He was battling deeply rooted insecurities cultivated over a lifetime. I cupped his face in my hand, loving the feel of his stubble under my palm. After all this time he still didn't get it, and I couldn't bear to let him go another minute believing he wasn't enough. If Lori's death taught me anything it was not to wait. I knew tomorrow wasn't guaranteed, even before all this, but I'd been there at her end. Listened in silence as she told the husband she thought hated her that she loved him with her dying breath. I didn't _ever_ want to feel that kind of regret. No matter the fallout.

"I love you Daryl Dixon."

At first I wasn't sure he heard me. He didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't blink. For a few agonizingly long seconds I thought I'd made a horrible mistake and the feeling only intensified when he took a step back, but I grabbed his hand, holding on tight. If he wanted a fight he'd get one. The only thing I was better at than loving him was fighting. I kept my face calm even as his eyes went wide. He was so unsure of himself, so unlike the Daryl in this moment. It was such a contrast to his normally stoic, self-assured demeanor, but all that was a ruse. He wore those masks to cover up his lack of confidence. I knew because I was the master of masks. I'd worn them all over the years. Sometimes so much it was hard to remember where they ended and I began. All I wanted was for him to see himself as I saw him. He was caring, passionate, loyal and brave. He was everything.

"You're worthy of love." My pulse was all over the place as I stepped closer. "You're more than worthy of _my love._ "

Fingers trembling, I reached around his neck, pulling him to me and kissing him. For several seconds he didn't respond and then he sighed, his lips moving against mine. My courage bolstered I pushed against his chest, walking him back until his legs hit a chair, his body sinking down. My heart skipped a beat as I peered down at him, his eyes bright with need as he waited to see what I'd do next. Before Daryl sex had been a means to an end. A way to find a mutual release, a momentary escape from reality, or a calculated act meant to lower an enemy's defenses. I wasn't particularly proud about any of that, but I pushed those thoughts aside as I focused on him. With him everything was different. More importantly I was different.

Placing a hand on either shoulder I straddled him, climbing onto his lap. I paused only long enough to unwrap the condom I'd thankfully had the forethought to sneak out of his jean pocket before tossing them god knows where. I tried to keep from passing out from desire as I rolled it on his massive erection. He sucked in a harsh breath as I touched him, our eyes locked, and I smiled shyly before slowly lowering myself onto the hard length of him. I moaned as he settled inside me, a long moment of silence passing between us as I adjusted to his size and tried to maintain control. He threaded a hand through my hair, pulling me down and kissing me with an intensity that shattered me. His other hand dug into my hip and I couldn't stay still one second longer. I began to move on top of him, his head falling back immediately, eyes squeezed shut as he ground out my name between clenched teeth. The muscles tightened low in my stomach, my breathing coming out in short, fast pants as we found our rhythm. His hands were everywhere, my hips, my breasts, my hair, my face. When he reached between us, easing a finger against my gathering wetness I saw fireworks bursting beneath my eyelids.

"Daryl," I whimpered.

"Come for me Red," he commanded.

I once told him not to tell me what to do unless I was naked. Well, we were naked and I was more than happy to comply, rolling my hips as his fingers continued to work what could only be described as magic. He was doing things with his hands, with his hips, with his lips, that denied explanation. The feeling building inside of me expanded so fast and so wide it felt like it might rip me in two. Man, what a way to go. My head was spinning, my need for release at a boiling point as every cell in my body tingled with exquisite pleasure. Air lodged in my throat as I slipped over the edge into pure ecstasy. Words slipped from my lips I didn't understand, in a voice that wasn't my own. I screamed his name as a sensual shock wave of pleasure rolled through me obliterating my senses. His mouth covered mine, muffling any remaining commentary as I rode out the most intense orgasm of my life. My fingers dug into his shoulder, my body boneless as I floated back down to Earth.

He muttered a harsh groan beneath me. "I can't…"

"It's OK," I assured him, pressing my body against his as I helped him find his own release. His hands wrapped around me, pulling me closer as I ground myself against him. He jerked, his body straining as I grew bolder, picking up my pace.

"God…Red." I felt like a goddess in that moment. Powerful. Beautiful. Loved.

Our pace became feverish as I our hips slammed into each other. The moment was incredible. He was incredible. I put my hands on his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. His restraint broke with a harsh curse and I felt him pulsing inside, my name on his lips as he let out a ragged breath, head falling forward against my chest as I cuddled him to me.

"That was…" he trailed off.

"Yeah."

You could say that again. Twice. No wonder Maggie and Glenn came up here so often. This place was magical. Then again, it wasn't the place, it was the person. I didn't know sex could be like this. I felt connected to him, so in tune with his body it was like it became an extension of my own. I stroked his hair, pressing my lips together to contain my smile when I heard him purr in response, nuzzling against my chest. He pulled back, looking up at me and I tilted my head to the side in question. He dropped a kiss on each cheek and then the tip of my nose before he found my mouth. It was the sweetest, most tender thing I'd ever experienced. It spoke more than those three words I said earlier he didn't say back.

"Me and you," he whispered in a gruff voice, a shiver shooting down my spine.

"This side or the other," I finished.

He kissed me again as we held each other. We'd suffered today, felt the bitter sting of loss we would never get over, but in his arms I felt a renewed sense of purpose. We would honor the dead by living and loving. We would keep their memories alive though each other. It _was_ possible to find more than pain and death in this world.

I knew because I was holding it in my arms.

* * *

 **Confession time.**

 **This is the first time I've written a scene with this much...um..."detail"? I'm incredibly nervous to see how it's received. I didn't want to write something like this just to write it. I wanted it to mean something (I cringed when I typed that, who says things like that? Me apparently). I really hope it helped show a side of these characters you haven't seen before. I want you cheering for them, laughing with them, crying with them and I felt like giving you a little more here was important to building towards that end. I was once told if you don't feel comfortable writing something don't write it. As scared as I am to put myself out there with this chapter I'm proud of how it turned out.**

 **Man, I hope I'm right about this one. **I'll be hiding under my bed awaiting the reception.****


	25. All That's Lost Is Found

**All That's Lost Is Found**

I woke up before the sun was even shining through the guard tower windows and groaned, cursing my internal alarm. Stretching brought a lazy smile to my face, my body sore in the most wonderful ways. Daryl shifted behind me, mumbling incoherently as I sat up and looked around for my clothes. Clutching his worn vest that I used as makeshift blanket against my chest to ward off the chill I grimaced at the state of the guard tower. My pants were in one corner, my tank top in another, and my panties were hanging on the edge of the window. I had no idea where my bra was and so far I could only find one of my boots.

"It looks like a sex tornado ripped through here," I sighed, snatching up pieces of clothes, keeping my own while tossing his over my shoulder without a backwards glance. His pants slapped him in the face and I giggled when he sat up with a growl.

"Christ woman, watch it will ya!"

"Someone's grumpy in the morning," I sing-songed, snagging my underwear from the window. Lord help us if anyone noticed that. Talk about waving a red flag at a bull. There would be no living this one down. Quickly picking up my pants I shoved one leg through, hopping around as I tried to get the other leg in. "Do you see my other boot?"

He mumbled under his breath, pointing behind me and I saw the steel toed tip peeking out from underneath his discarded flannel shirt. I was worried for about a half-second things might be awkward after my impromptu confession last night, but everything so far seemed normal. I continued to throw his clothes at him and he continued to grumble and curse so, par for the course. Even him slinging my bra and tank top at my head didn't wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. Only Daryl could wake up pissy after last night. I, on the other hand, would be smiling like a dope and walking funny for the foreseeable future, but you know what they say, if you aren't walking funny the next morning someone wasn't doing their job. I winced as I bent forward to buckle my boots, ignoring the satisfied gleam in his eyes as he watched. The man had done his job and he knew it.

Leaving him to gloat and get dressed at a glacial pace I stepped outside. It was still early, quiet, and I took a calming breath as I surveyed the landscape. The pre-dawn hours had always unsettled me. Something about the twilight felt ominous and foreboding. Maybe it was because it was the optimal time for an attack, too early for the sleeping to be awake, too late for the night watch to be alert.

The wet air coated my arms and face already dampening my tank top. Today would be scorching, but what else was new. Closing my eyes I tried to prepare myself for what was sure to be a shit day. I heard Daryl step out behind me and glanced at him over my shoulder, smiling. He stood next to me, arms braced on the railing, crossbow slung on his back as he looked down at the yard. I followed his gaze with a dejected sigh. Just like that our timeout was over.

"Gonna grab something."

He didn't elaborate and I didn't question him as he walked towards the door leading to the stairs. He stopped so suddenly I almost plowed into him which, as it turned out, saved us both time, his arms snaking around my waist and pulling me flush against his rock hard body. He brushed his surprisingly soft lips against mine both of us sighing when we made contact. He leaned back, his lips twitching in amusement at my bemused state. Normally I would play it off, deny, deny, deny, but that was a fool's errand. I was so hot and bothered I barely resisted the urge to fan myself as he pivoted on his heel and walked away. Off to do whatever it was Daryl Dixon did when he wasn't kicking ass and taking names or making women's panties spontaneously catch fire.

Half an hour later I heard his footsteps approaching from behind. I would know his distinct swagger anywhere. I had long ago memorized the rhythmic steps, cataloguing it along with every other unique trait he possessed. I was on my knees in front of the graves, my eyes glued to the crudely made crosses with hastily scrawled names carved into the wood. I didn't look down at the fresh dirt atop each one. I didn't think my fragile psyche could handle it, but it didn't stop my mind from conjuring the image. There weren't even bodies in two of the graves and somehow that made it worse even though I wasn't sure why. Dead was dead. I'd buried more than my fair share of empty coffins over the years, but none carried the heartache these did.

Daryl didn't say anything as he walked forward, bending down and placing something on Carol's grave. It wasn't until he stepped back that I saw it was a Cherokee Rose. I sniffled, closing my eyes as I remembered a time not long ago when he'd given her one for her daughter. The daughter we were unable to save. Just like her mother. He took his time placing the delicate flower inside a ring of rocks he painstakingly laid down. I felt like I was intruding on something private, but he said nothing about my presence and I was powerless to move. She'd been a sister to me and a best friend to him. The two had formed the most unlikely of friendships, but that was what made it truly special. I didn't think either of us would ever get over her loss.

My eyes flicked to T's grave, the only one of the three with a body. If you could even call what was left of him a body. My lips trembled remembering the state they found him in. He deserved better than this, deserved better than a shallow grave in a prison yard, his body torn to shreds. It would have been me lying here dead if he'd let me go for the gate. It _should_ be me. He was a good man with an endless heart and now he was gone. He was the best friend I didn't deserve. I missed him so much it felt like I might drown in my sorrow.

I had yet to look at Lori's empty grave. The images I had in my head of T's body were from Glenn's abbreviated description and Rick's stricken face. Lori was a different story entirely. I remembered with vivid clarity the blood pouring out of her body, her screams of pain as she died. She was another person in a long line that died because of something I'd done or rather failed to do. Again, the details didn't matter. Dead was dead.

Daryl put his hand on Carol's cross, pausing for a second to say his final, silent goodbye before looking down at me. "Ya comin' in?"

I swallowed hard, keeping my head down. "In a minute."

He squeezed my shoulder briefly, but didn't say anything, heading back for the prison. I knew I couldn't sit here forever. There were things that needed doing, not the least of which was taking care of our newest addition, but I needed time.

Just one minute with my friends.

With my family.

To grieve.

To say goodbye.

By the time I made it into the man cave everyone was halfway through breakfast. My steps faltered for a beat as my eyes drifted to Oscar. He was an outsider and that made me caution of him on principle, but after what he did yesterday he earned his place, for now. I'd be keeping an eye on him though. As if sensing my eyes on him he smiled at me as I made my way to where Daryl was sitting on the stairs, but when I scowled at him in return his eyes dropped to the floor. He may have earned his place, but we weren't going to exchange friendship bracelets just yet.

I sat down and Daryl handed me a bowl, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "Be nice." His eyes flicked to Oscar.

"Seriously?"

If the world hadn't stopped spinning before it sure had now. The poster child for anti-social behavior was telling _me_ to be nice. I was officially living in some kind of Twilight Zone. What was next, Carol giving up porn? Glenn not shouting the hallelujah chorus at all hours of the night? I couldn't handle the hit to my equilibrium. It was too disorienting. I needed some kind of stability in a world gone mad. Carol with her nose shoved in porn, whatever the hell Maggie did that made Glenn scream "weeeee!", and last, but certainly not least, Daryl being an ass to everyone. Those things were my normal. They made sense. Me being nice to Oscar the Inmate did not.

I eyed my breakfast bowl with disinterest, pushing the contents around with a spoon as I surveyed the room. Nugget was sleeping soundly in Beth's arms as she rocked the child back-and-forth. It made me smile and that was the only thing. The moment my eyes shifted to Carl I frowned. He was sitting at the table, his food untouched, face pale, eyes vacant, body language screaming silently for help. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, but this time there was nothing I _could_ do. He didn't need me.

"Rick?" I whispered to Daryl who bit his thumbnail and shook his head no. I sighed, but the sound of a voice from outside the door startled me.

"Everybody OK?"

Rick slowly opened the door as Maggie answered, "Yeah, we are." Debatable.

He'd cleaned himself up since yesterday. The blood and grim was gone from his body and clothes, but there was no hiding the instability in his haunted eyes. He made his way to the table, Carl's eyes leaving his bowl for the first time as he looked at his dad expectantly. I silently prayed he wouldn't fuck this up. I understood he was hurting, but so was Carl. He may have lost his wife, but his son had not only lost his mother, he was the one to put her down.

"What about you?" Hershel asked, a knowing look in his eye.

"Cleared out the boiler block." I shook my head at the non-answer.

"How many were there?" Daryl questioned.

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen." If he wasn't such a train wreck I'd call him out on his hypocrisy. Just yesterday he scolded me for taking on nine by myself and here he was storming the beaches of Normandy, alone. "I have to get back. I just wanted to check on Carl."

"Rick we can handle taking out the bodies," Glenn told him, standing up. "OK, you don't have to."

"No I do," he insisted. He made his way over to Daryl and I. "Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

Daryl looked at me before answering, "Yeah, we're running low on ammo though."

"Maggie, Alex and I were planning on making a run this afternoon." Daryl's eyes flicked to me, eyebrows raised in silent question and I suddenly found my bowl very, very interesting. Thanks for that Glenn. Totally buddy fucker that guy. "Found a phone book. Some places we can look for bullets and formula."

Bullets and formula. What a fucked up world we lived in.

"Cleared out the generator room," Daryl added. Suddenly I felt like a slacker. This must have happened while I was mourning at the graves. "Axel's there now tryin' to fix it just in case of emergency. We're gonna sweep the lower levels as well."

He sounded matter-of-fact, like they were clearing out the lower levels because it was something that had to be done which it did, but I knew better. He was hoping to find Carol, one way or another. The thought of her being dead was painfully enough. The thought of her walking around somewhere in the prison as one of those things made me want to vomit. We couldn't leave her like that. She deserved peace, but I couldn't work up the courage to go back down in The Tombs. It was part of the reason I volunteered for the run.

"Good, good," Rick told him, heading for the door.

"What about Nugget?" I asked, unable to keep my mouth shut or my voice civil.

His daughter was less than a foot away and he had yet to glance at her. Lori died so that little girl could live and if I had to handcuff him to the table until he acknowledged her so help me I would. He didn't stop at my question, and I stood up, ready to physical restrain him if needed, but Daryl's hand stopped me. His eyes held a note of sympathy, but the death grip on my arm was firm as he gave me a subtle shake of his head. Frustrated to no end I pulled my arm away, breathing hard as I paced the room. The sound of Rick's high heels against the concrete getting fainter and fainter as he ran away.

"He'll come around Alex," Hershel insisted.

"He's gonna come around now." I never wanted to set foot in that boiler room again, but this was ending, now.

Hershel took a calm breath, looking at me with understanding and patience that only served to infuriate me. "You can't force him."

"I can and I will," I promised, making my way to the door, but Nugget's cry stopped me, my shouting startling the sleeping baby. Beth rocked her, shushing her with quiet reassurance and the child settled almost immediately, but just like that the fight was sucked out of me, leaving me drained and more than a little hopeless.

"He doesn't blame you," the old man stated.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "It's not about that." But it was and everyone knew it. I needed to make this right.

"I'll go talk to him."

If anyone could reach Rick it was Hershel. If I went I would only make things worse and we would both end up bleeding. I was the last person he wanted to see right now other than Nugget. The reason he was a widower. I gave the old man an appreciative nod and made my way into the cellblock, my breakfast forgotten. Grabbing the railing I hopped up the stairs, skipping every other one on my way to the perch to grab a set of "clean" clothes and my pack before heading to the bathroom. The bucket of water next to the sink was cold but clean so I quickly stripped off all my clothes, taking a bird bath as quickly as I could. Folding up my soiled clothes I tossed them in the corner with the rest of the laundry pile before shrugging on the least disgusting pants and tank top at my disposal. When I looked at myself in the mirror I shuttered. So this was what busted looked like. Pulling my hair out of the pony tail I did my best to brush out the numerous knots and tangles with more than a few tears. Tossing the brush into my pack I dug out my last tube of toothpaste and my toothbrush. With my back against the sink, eyes glued to the floor, mind a million miles away I brushed my teeth with enough force to draw blood from my gums.

"Gonna tell me ya were goin' on a run?" I was so caught off guard I jumped a foot in the air, knocked all my toiletries off the sink and was halfway to throwing a knife at his head before I regained my senses.

"Jesus Christ Daryl!" I exclaimed, lowering the knife. "Sneaking up on people is gonna to get you killed one day." Like today.

"Made enough noise comin' down here to wake the dead."

I glared at him, "That's not funny."

He smirked, "Didn't answer my question."

"Yes _mom_ , I was going to tell you." Lie. I was going to sneak off and deal with the fallout once I got back like the good, little avoider I was. He leaned against the door frame, looking way too hot for a man in desperate need of a shower. Why was it men got hotter when they were filthy? I saw what I looked like 20 minutes ago and that was not hot.

"I need some time away from here after..." I waved my arm around.

"I get it," he said, "Be careful." My eyes bulged at his nonchalance. This was some kind of trap.

"That's it?"

He uncrossed his arms looking at me funny. "The hell ya talkin' about?"

"You're not going to yell or scream or throw things?" When he just grinned at me it felt like the world was tilting on its axis. Was I dreaming? "You're not even going to threaten to shoot me with an arrow?"

"Bolt."

I groaned, "For the love of all things sacred." He actually laughed at that. "Why are you being weird?"

"Ain't bein' nothin'."

"OK first, that made no sense." I held up one finger to emphasize my point. "And two, this thing you got going on here." I pointed an accusing finger at him. "Isn't fooling me."

When he just stood there silently I started to get anxious. I gathered up all my toiletries, shoving them into my pack so I could get out of this fun house. The next thing out of his mouth was likely to be that the world had finally run out of ABCs and 123s, and I just couldn't handle anymore earth shattering revelations.

"You're freaking me out Legolas."

He grabbed my arm as I passed by, "Why?" He was laughing at me. That little redneck piece of shit was actually laughing at me.

"You don't get to be the sane one in this relationship buddy." I poked my finger into his chest and tried not to wince. Would it kill the guy to have a fat cell? "I'm the semi-rationale one. You're the...the...other one."

He did laugh this time, but only for a moment before he kissed me and I forgot what we were talking about. He backed us up against the wall and my pack slipped from my fingers as my arms went around his neck. He braced his arms on either side of my head, nipping and sucking to the point I lost consciousness. The kiss was over too soon, but then again any kiss that didn't end in the horizontal mambo was too soon in my book. He shot me a smug smirk as I blinked at him like a drunken owl before he turned on his heel, striding down the hallway.

"See ya again Red!" I tilted my head to side, licking my lips as I stared at his ass in a lust filled daze.

"This side or the other," I mumbled, my brain cells misfiring. I was a sucker for the way he moved. He was a drug I craved and that ass, _damn_ , it was like nicotine, heroine and ecstasy all wrapped into one perfect denim package.

"Heard that!" he yelled from around the corner and I slapped a hand over my mouth. Ears like a fucking wolverine.

Half an hour later I sat in the back of the suburban absently staring out the window as Maggie and Glenn chatted quietly in the front seat. I couldn't get last night out of my head. I swore I could still feel Daryl's hands on my body, his lips as they traced every curve of my skin so excruciatingly slow it was equal parts torture and bliss. I could hear the way he breathed my name like a prayer as he moved above me. My mouth watered just thinking about it and I was sweating bullets which was not sexy. A supermodel couldn't pull of pit stains and I was no supermodel. I held my arms out at my side to help with ventilation. His sexiness was distracting as hell. I'd be lucky if I made it through the day without impaling myself with my own knife.

"Alright, what's up?" Glenn asked, eyeing me in the rear view mirror. "That's the tenth time you've moaned like that and why do you keep touching your lips? Are you sick?" Maggie snorted and I kicked the back of her seat. That really got her going as her boyfriend looked between us, clueless.

"She's not sick honey."

"Maggie," I warned.

She turned around in the seat, raising her eyebrows at me and I knew there was no hope. She probably even saw the panties on the window. I was screwed. That settled it. I was jumping out of the car. I reached for the door handle and heard the distinct click of the locks just as my hand touched the handle. I glared at Glenn, taking two fingers and slowly pointing them at my eyes then at him.

You.

Me.

Later.

"If you aren't sick why do you look so flushed?" This sent Maggie into another fit of giggles that made me want to strangle her with my pit stained tank top.

"Glenn, it's a good thing you're so freakin' adorable," I muttered, looking out the window with a huff. Clearly picking up on social cues was not his thing.

"Seriously, what am I missing?"

Maggie patted his shoulder, "Honey did you see Daryl or Alex in the cellblock last night?" I exhaled sharply, trying the door handle again. This looked like as good a place as any to die.

"No." He still didn't get it. This was painful. Like a root canal without the happy gas.

"Right," she confirmed waiting for it to click but when a full minute passed and he was still frowning even she sighed. "They were up in the guard tower."

I let my head fall back against the seat, covering my face with my hands. Was fuck off an emotion? Because right now, I felt it deep in my soul.

"Oh. Oh. Oh!" he exclaimed, finally, his voice rising in pitch every time he said it. The car swerved violently to the left and I was thrown across the seat into the door as Maggie yelped, holding onto the 'oh shit' bar above her seat. "Sorry."

"I'm walking home," I declared.

"Not so funny when you're on the receiving end, is it?" she gloated.

I sent a glare at the back of her head, "Being a dick won't make his any bigger."

"Hey!" Glenn shouted as Maggie turned around, reaching for me in the backseat looking a little too crazy for my taste. She swatted at me and I curled into a ball, moving towards the door to stay out of her reach. "Stop it you two!"

If she started hair pulling it was on. When she lunged at me with her velociraptor talons I put my hands up, screaming, "OK, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. Please stop, I haven't had my tetanus shot this year!"

"Not helping Alex!" Glenn yelled over the mayhem, trying to restrain his girlfriend _and_ drive neither of which he was doing well. When actual foam starting dripping from the corner of her mouth I started to fear for my life.

"I'm sorry!" I yelled at the top of my lungs and she stopped, watching me like the witch doctor she was. I stayed absolutely still. Afraid if I breathed wrong she'd bring the crazy again. When she nodded at me once, settling back into her seat I collapsed against mine. And people thought I was OOC.

Glenn pulled to a stop in the main drag of the small town we were scouting. The windows of all the stores were boarded up, graffiti spray painted on the concrete buildings and even a few cars. Nothing said classy like, 'The End is Near, Have Sex!'. Words to live by, truly. Climbing out of the suburban I pulled my weapon checking the immediate area for any danger. I didn't see anything, unless you considered copious amounts of trash and sketchy advice dangerous.

"Someone's a litterbug," I commented as the wind blew a piece of cardboard in front of me, "This place looks like my bedroom when I was in high school."

Maggie pulled her own weapon, looking around. "Your room was full of trash, men's clothing and shopping carts?"

I shrugged, "I know how to have a good time." Spring Break 2001 in da house!

She laughed, shaking her head at me as she circled the car heading for Glenn. "We're all clear outside."

"Alright, let's take a look." Glenn already had his backpack on and a pair of bolt cutters in his hand for the chains securing the doors.

"Keep an eye out for sunscreen." Both of them turned to me. "What? I have very sensitive alabaster skin."

"You are a little pale," Glenn commented.

"Pale? I'm not pale. I'm translucent." I blamed it on my Irish-American heritage. At this point my skin color being considered eggshell would be a step up. The summer months were always torture. While others basked in the sun's rays I hide in the shade. I didn't do tan. I did deathly pale or deathly burned. There was no middle ground. Even now I could feel the skin on my arms and neck sizzling like a burger on a flat top.

"You got it," Glenn promised as Maggie made her way to him.

"Hey," she whispered before leaning forward and pecking his lips. That was bad enough, but when he cupped her face in his hands and starting licking her I shut my eyes before I went blind.

"Please try to keep it PG." I turned around, squinting against the sun. I'd rather risk the sunburn to my corneas than watch them swap spit. Crossing the street I headed towards the stores lining the opposite side of the road.

"Stay close," Glenn yelled and I gave him a thumbs up without turning around. Some things just couldn't be unseen.

I picked the lock on the door to a sporting goods store, swinging it open carefully, scanning the interior. It smelled stale and dingy, but the putrid stench of the dead was absent. Either there weren't any walkers inside or they were very conscientious of their BO.

It only took me a few minutes to clear the small store. A quick scan of the shelves and cases by the cash register proved fruitless unless we planned on starting a dodge ball team. If so, we hit the motherload. Along with an assortment of athletic equipment the store sold guns and ammo but the ones in plain sight had long since been looted so I made my way to the manager's office, slowly walking around the tiny room. The desk drawers were wide open and empty save a few pens and paper. There was a lone bookshelf in the corner with books, discarded manuals, binders, and rows and rows of family photos.

Stopping in the center of the room I examined it with a critical eye. Almost all the abandoned cars in the street had gun racks in the back window or NRA stickers on the bumper. We were in the heart of the south where gun ownership was practically a birthright. The chances were good the manager of the store kept a personal stash in his office for safety. I just had to find it and hope someone else hadn't beaten me to the punch.

The obvious places had all been checked, but that was thing about hiding places, they were rarely in obvious places. Not the good ones anyway. A painting on the wall caught my eye. I cocked my head to the side as I studied the cheap knockoff of Vincent van Gogh's, _The Starry Night_. Walking over I stopped in front of it, eyebrows scrunched. This thing belonged here about as much as Anna Nicole Smith at a rehab meeting. Tapping the wall surrounding the frame I heard a distinct hollow sound and grinned. Grabbing the painting I lifted it off the wall uncovering a hidden combination wall safe.

Bingo.

Now I needed to crack it. With the right tools, enough time and some C4 just in case this would be a non-issue. Unfortunately I didn't have any of those things. Turning on my heel I made my way back to the desk, rummaging through the drawers and papers until I found an old weekly planner underneath a destroyed computer keyboard. Flipping through the pages it was obvious whoever ran this place was old school, opting for paper over computers programs and apps for scheduling, correspondence and invoicing.

A day in May caught my eye, the neat handwriting on the 16th a stark contrast to the hastily scribbled notes going every which way on all the other pages. In huge, bold, carefully written letters was a reminder that was circled a few dozen. **  
**

**20 Year Anniversary. Don't forget to pick up gift for Linda! Dinner at 6 p.m.**

My eyes flicked back to the bookcase. A framed picture of an older man with his arm around a much shorter woman with slightly graying hair in a french braid stared back at me. She was laughing when the picture was taken, her eyes locked on her husband, her head thrown back, hands grasping his shirt as he gazed down at her with loving eyes. They looked happy and they were probably dead.

Dragging my eyes away from the picture I flipped the calendar over, looking for the year. I quickly did the math in my head before returning to the safe and twisting the dial, entering the couples wedding date as the combination. When I entered the last number I heard a soft click and smiled, pulling down on the handle as the door to the safe swung open. There was mortgage paperwork, bonds, and investments. All useless in today's world. The two handguns and boxes of ammunition were a different story. Those would pay the bills for a few weeks. It certainly wouldn't cure our shortage, but there were at least a dozen 50-round boxes and something was a hell of a lot better than nothing. The two additional handguns were just icing on the cake.

I left the store, my pack heavy on my shoulders as stepped into the street, making my way back to the vehicle. I could see Maggie carrying a basket that I sincerely hoped was filled with formula and maybe a bottle of sunscreen, but before I made it halfway across the street a voice called out from behind them.

"And where is it y'all good people are callin' home?!" The man had a gun pointed at them and I froze, drawing my own as I aimed it at him. The cold steel of a muzzle being pushed against the side of my head stopped me before I could squeeze the trigger.

"Long time no see Red." I cursed my sloppy, distracted behavior. The fact someone like _him_ was able to get the jump on me was unacceptable. I put my hands up in surrender, glancing over my shoulder as Luke leaned forward taking my PPQ.

"Hey Lucy, you're not dead after all. I was so worried," I lied, my voice dripping in sarcasm. "It's too bad about Danny and Matt." His smirk transformed into a scowl and I winked at him. Because I was irrevocably fucked up there was a very large part of me that was happy he was still breathing. Now I could kill him myself.

"Keep your hands where I can see them or so help me I'll splatter your brain all over this road," he threatened, pushing me forward.

Given my current situation I had no choice but to do as I was told. Glenn and Maggie had their weapons pointed at the stranger in front of them, and had yet to see me or Lucy. I could hear the two men exchanging words, but was too far away to hear. Luke walked us forward slowly, too scared to even let the muzzle of the weapon leave the side of my skull for a moment. He angled us closer to his companion and further away from my friends. We rounded a truck and the man standing across from Glenn and Maggie let loose a rumbling, belly aching laugh. My face scrunched up, the sound tickling something in the back of my mind, a memory just out of reach, but that didn't make sense. I had never laid eyes on this man, but I recognized his laugh and his accent. Why? It wasn't just the southern drawl. Almost everyone had one of those in these parts. It was his word choice, tone, even the way he drew out certain phrases that was eerily familiar. Luke shoved me forward one final time and we were out in the open. Glenn's eyes went wide and Maggie's mouth dropped open the moment they spotted us.

My sole focus was the newcomer and now that I had an unobstructed view of him I almost fainted from shock. His face was covered in blood from a broken nose, a week old beard covering his face, and his white hair was buzzed closed to his scalp, but none of that was what sucked the air out of my lungs making it difficult to breath. None of that meant anything. It was his eyes that held me transfixed. The deep, blue crystal eyes hauntingly familiar. Those I knew. My head swam with dizziness as the implications of who I was standing in front of set it. My gaze fell to his left hand or where his left hand should have been. Instead there was a crude contraption strapped on his stub with a knife tapped on the end. The minuscule shred of hope I harbored this was not who I thought it was evaporated instantly. There was no mistaking his identity.

Merle Dixon. Daryl's brother. That was, unless there was another unhinged, crude, redneck with only one arm running around Georgia. I wasn't holding my breath.

"And who's this firecracker?" he hollered, grinning at me as I stood there in stunned disbelief. What were the chances? I wasn't sure, but they were somewhere in the realm of astronomical. "Like what ya see honey?"

I blinked at him, shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut momentarily before opening them again, hoping in vein to change what I was seeing. No luck. He was still there and still very much Daryl's brother. Well, this day was turning into a real clusterfuck.

"Get on your knees," Luke barked at me, his foot kicking me in my right leg as I stumbled forward.

I shot a glare over my shoulder, "You really want to do this again? Didn't work out so well for you last time."

Merle hooted with enjoyment. "Hot damn, this is her?! I thought yur pansy ass was full 'o shit when you came back hollerin' 'bout some red-headed ninja bitch."

While I took exception to the bitch part on principle I wasn't going to argue with the ninja. That was spot on.

"Alex," Glenn said and I looked to him, giving him a small shake of my head as I got on my knees. The last thing I needed was one of them trying to play hero and getting themselves killed. Luke roughly grabbed my wrists, pulling them behind my back and securing them with a zip tie.

"Someone's learning," I taunted and he pulled on the zip tie hard, the plastic binding cutting into my wrists as I hissed in pain. "Someone's also still on their period."

This sent Merle into another fit of laughter and I got the distinct impression there was little to nothing he didn't find funny. He lobbed insults at Lucy while keeping his gun aimed at Glenn and Maggie.

"Merle, you don't want to do this..."

"Glenn," I cut him off.

He pleaded with me and I narrowed my eyes in warning, hoping he understood the message to keep his mouth shut. Knowledge was power and we didn't need to arm our enemies with any more firepower. Obviously Merle knew I was with his brother's group by virtue of being found with them, but he didn't know _what_ I was to his him. Volunteering that kind of information was handing them a loaded gun they could point directly at our heads, and I already had that covered. Merle shuffled closer to me as Luke reached down to my boots pulling out the knives I kept hidden there. Jeez, stab someone one time with a hidden blade and they never got over it. He walked around to face me, slowly unfastened the sheath at my waist containing the rest of my knives and pulling it off, sneaking a not so subtle at my cleavage and I rolled my eyes. Some things never change.

"How's your hand? You able to open your own ketchup bottles yet?" His face turned bright red as he reared back and punched me in the jaw with a right hook. My head snapped to side, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth. Turning my head back to him I opened and closed my jaw experimentally before gathering a mouthful of blood and spitting it on his boots. "Still hit like a bitch Lucy."

"Oh damn, I like this one," Merle smiled, his eyes crazed, but not by drugs. He wasn't high. He was just a lunatic. "If you make it outta this alive Firecracker you and I could have a real sweet time." I turned to him, my face filled with horror but not for the reasons he thought. "Oh, yeah, I bet ya like what ya see, huh?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth like a snake and I frowned. Was he having some kind of seizure? Apparently the infamous Dixon sex appeal was doled out sparingly.

"If I had a dog that looked like you I'd make it walk backwards after I shaved it," I replied, chin held high.

Luke froze beside me. I heard Glenn mutter curse, taking a step forward as Maggie swallowed nervously. Everyone waited to see what Merle would do, but for a moment he didn't do anything. He just looked at me with a bewildered expression as I stared back, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth. Slowly a smile started tugging at the corner of his lips before he tipped his head back, slapping Luke on the back so hard the man almost fell. Luke Cage my left tit.

"What the hell ya talkin' 'bout?" He was laughing like a maniac. All the stories I heard about the man didn't do him justice. I couldn't blame them. Describing this level of insanity was like trying to finger paint the Sistine Chapel, not happening.

"Did I get it right?" I asked, genuinely curious. It hadn't sounded right, but then again, redneck never sounded right to me.

"Hell no!" My shoulders sagged. Shit. I was on a roll lately. A roll being I got one right the other day. This was gonna kill my average. Merle pivoted on his heel, pointing his weapon at Glenn and Maggie, "We're all gonna load up in this here car and take a little ride."

Glenn's face hardened. "I already told you, we aren't taking you to him."

"No ya ain't. I'm takin' y'all." My stomach seized in fear. I did not like the sound of that one bit.

"Take me," I suggested, trying to fake disinterest, drawing Merle's attention back to me. "It's time I moved on anyway."

He eyed me for a beat before shaking his stubby arm at me, the knife strapped to the end bobbing like a finger that knew my secret. "And why would I do that Firecracker?"

"Why bother with three when all you need is one?" I kept a bored look on my face. "I owed them, but saving the love birds makes us square. I'll tell you what you want to know."

Lie.

I would tell him a whole bunch of shit, but never the truth. By the time I was done unloading false information and half-truths they'd be chasing their tales until the end of days. I was a master of deceit. A virtual savant at creating a web of lies that tied my victims in knots.

"Bullshit," Luke sneered. "You won't sell them out. You didn't do it at the warehouse and you won't do it now."

I looked at him with a sad shake of my head, "Oh Lucy, so simple minded. What makes you think this group is the same one that saved me from the warehouse?"

Merle's eyes shifted to Luke as he awaited the answer. An answer Luke couldn't give because he didn't know. He never saw my rescuers because he had tucked tail and ran to save his own skin.

He shifted his weight nervously. "Why would they go through the trouble of saving you just to leave you?"

"Loyalty only goes so far when a heard unexpectedly blows through your group. You did your job well enough. I couldn't keep up so I got left behind."

He looked unsure as his eyes bobbed between me and Merle. The one armed redneck was quiet for once as he considered me, eyes scrutinizing and far more aware than I would have liked. He was checking my story for holes.

"How long ya been with my brother's group?"

"Few weeks," I shrugged, "Helped me out of a tight spot and you know how Officer Grimes is, couldn't bear the thought of leaving a lone woman behind."

That was categorically untrue, at least now. A year ago that was exactly who the former cop was, but we buried that man back at the Greene farm along with Sophia and Dale. There was a coldness to him now, an emptiness, a harshness that made who he used to be a distant memory. The man who would have once risked his life for a stranger was now more likely to put a bullet in their brain before they could finish their hello, but Merle didn't know that.

"'Cept for when he's handcuffin' people and leavin' 'em for dead," he ground out.

"Well, there is that." I kept my voice light like the story held no weight, something I'd heard in passing, but cared little about. It wasn't hard to fake. I honestly didn't care. "I've heard the story. Guess it was a good thing he didn't find me on a roof."

Merle licked his lips and for a moment I thought I had him. Thought his need for vengeance against Rick would outweigh his desire to find his brother, but the moment his eyes flicked to Glenn I knew we were screwed.

"I got unfinished business with Officer Friendly, but seein' as how he ain't here the Chinaman's gonna have to do." He turned to the pair. "Now why dontcha put yur weapon's on the ground nice and easy."

The danger we were facing turned my blood to ice as I watched my friend's faces pale. Their hands were shaking as they held their weapons, unsure of what to do. They should leave, plain and simple. With me out of the fight it was two against two and Merle wanted to find his brother too bad to risk killing his only link to him. Glenn eye's drifted to me and I mouthed the word _"Go"_. He frowned and I silently mouthed it again pointedly looking at Maggie. I could take care of myself, would be able to handle whatever came next, but the same couldn't be said for them.

Merle might not have the Dixon sexiness, but he certainly had the lack of patience. With a huff of frustration he whirled around, the sound of a gun firing a stark contrast to the silence that proceeded it. It took my brain a second to register what was happening as a bullet tore through my arm with such velocity it knocked me to the ground. I didn't feel the pain at first, too busy trying to process the fact Daryl's brother shot me. This was going to make family get-togethers awkward.

The searing pain of the flesh wound snapped the world back into focus so quickly it made my head spin. I was on my side, hot, sticky blood running down my arm and mixing with the dirt on the road. I took slow deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. It wasn't bad, hardly fatal, but it served its purpose. I heard Maggie and Glenn screaming as they surrendered their only advantage, their weapons, putting them on the ground.

"How's your arm?" Luke goaded, bending over and zip tying my feet as I clenched my lips together against the pain. I didn't bother with answering, my mind working overtime as I tried to figure out how to keep us all alive. I wasn't worried about myself. I'd been through a Governor inspired questions and answer session so I knew what to expect. Maggie and Glenn were hilariously unprepared for what was coming. Separately they might be able to hold out for a short period of time, but sooner or later everybody broke. Torture only had two roads, information or death. All it would take to break my two, sweet, disgustingly in love friends would be a threat against the other.

"Pick her up," Merle ordered.

I heard their boots on the road as they made their way to me. Maggie's was crying as the two of them slipped their hands under my arms, lifting me up. I groaned as the wound on my arm pulled and stretched painfully. Glenn stumbled over more apologies than I could count as they drug me to the vehicle, trying not to hurt me.

"Put her in the back." They sat me on the tailgate, Maggie helping me swing my legs up into the back. I shifted, scooting further back as Glenn watched me.

"Are you OK?" he whispered quickly. Luke and Merle were headed this way, guns aimed at their backs.

"Yeah."

"Alright Chinaman, yur with me in the front," Merle flicked his gun towards him with an expectant expression and he reluctantly moved away. "Dontcha worry, my friend here will take real good care of yur girlfriend."

Luke grinned at Maggie and I pulled against the zip ties in vain. I only succeeded in digging the restraints further into the already torn skin at my wrist, but the look on Luke's face made me frantic. He motioned for her to get in the car. She took one more look at me before disappearing.

"Lie down," he ordered, pointing the gun at my head.

When I obeyed without comment he grinned before slamming the door closed. I heard the engine start and felt the vibrations of the car as Glenn pulled away. The ride to their compound was made in silence, as I scrambled to find a way out of this. My arm throbbed with its own heartbeat. My wrist burning as blood trickled from various wounds. My body was jostled in the back as we drove and I was unable to brace myself due to my restraints, but I found comfort in the pain. It helped center me, kept me calm, alert. Pain was an old friend, and it was nothing if not reliable. Focusing on the pain was better than the focusing on the terror. Fear wouldn't get us out of this.

Most people feared pain, physical, emotional, mental, it didn't matter. We weren't built to withstand it, not for any amount of time. We were built to yield to it. I learned a long time ago to not only ignore it, but draw strength from it. I began my life in the shadows where pain blossomed. I taught myself how to thrive in it, to revel in its subtle complexity. It didn't stop the hurt, but the hurt was useful. It let you know you were still alive. My father taught me my first lesson in pain and it was simple.

It was better to feel pain than nothing at all.

* * *

 **He's baaack!**

 **Gotta say, I love Merle's character. Michael Rooker is awesome in just about every role and this is no exception. I'm excited to write Merle and hope I do him justice. He's such a wildcard I feel like the possibilities with him are endless.**

 **Are you guys excited about what's coming? I hope so. Lately it feels like this story maybe isn't doing as well (?). I've just noticed a big decline in readers, but I'm hoping it's just life getting in the way of the things we want to do...like read TWD fanfic all day. LOL**

 **Thanks to everyone who is sticking with it. I have tons more and hope there is still interest.**


	26. You Want A Fight, I'll Start A War

**You Want a Fight, I'll Start A War**

"Stop here." Glenn did as he was told, the screech of the breaks loud as the car rolled to a stop. "Now y'all just sit tight."

Where the hell else would we go? Two doors opened and closed, but I waited another 10 seconds just to be on the safe side.

"You guys OK?" I heard Maggie shifting in her seat. "Don't turn around," I all but yelled, instantly regretting my tone, but needing her to stay still less what little time we had to strategize be taken away entirely. "We don't want to give them any more reason than they already have to hurt us."

"What do we do?" Glenn asked, his voice low. He sounded a million miles away, not a few seats.

"They're going to separate us. You've seen what they can do." Maggie sucked in a harsh breath that rapidly descended into muffled sobs at the reminder of my torture, but I kept talking, trying to prepare them as best I could. "Hold out as long as you can, but do what you have to stay alive. Maggie, I don't think they'll hurt you physically, but be ready for anything. They know you two are together and if you hold out long enough they _will_ use that to their advantage."

"You don't think they'll…." Glenn trailed off, his voice dangerous and I swallowed down the bitterness in the back of my throat. I wanted to reassure him that he didn't need to fear _that_ , but the truth was everything was on the table at this point.

"I don't know, but if it comes to that you tell them what they want to know. Do you hear me?"

"But the others," Maggie cried. I didn't have an answer for that so I ignored it. We would just have to deal with the consequences later. If there was a later.

"You tell them. No information is worth that," I insisted. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We may be outnumbered but these guys are sloppy. They _will_ make a mistake and when they do you need to be ready. When you find your opening take it." My voice was full of authority as I tried to pump them full of the confidence they would need to survive this and escape. "You find each other and get the hell out of here any way you can."

"What about you?" Glenn's sounded incredulous, his voice high-pitched and panicked.

I shook my head even though they couldn't see it. "I'll be fine. Worry about each other."

"We're not leaving you." Maggie had stopped crying. She sounded determined which normally would be better than falling apart, but I needed to stomp out that fire. I wouldn't allow either of them to risk their lives for me.

"You can and you will," I stated, my tone leaving no room for argument. I heard muffled voices outside the car and knew we were almost out of time. "They don't know who I am, not really. Don't worry about me. I'll find a way out."

"But Daryl…"

I cut him off, "Keep him out of it. Focus on what they know, not what they don't. They'll want to know where the group is, how we got there, that will be their focus. Leave it there. Listen to what you're being asked and only answer that question. Offer no additional details unless you have to." The voices were getting closer. "They already see our group as a threat, but they think I'm new and have no real ties. We can use that. If they find out that's not the case we lose the only advantage we have." And even that wasn't much of an advantage.

"Alex." Maggie's voice wobbled and I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing thoughts of Daryl from mind. I needed to be strong and the thought of never seeing him again made me feel anything but strong.

"I know." I took a measured breath, men visible through the window now, trying to get myself under control before the shitstorm began. "Just tell him…"

What?

That I loved him?

That he meant everything to me?

That the time we had together was the happiest in my life?

It didn't escape my attention I was thinking in the past tense. I may be trying to convince Glenn and Maggie there was hope for our continued survival, but I held little for myself. I barely walked away from my last encounter with these people and that was only Luke and a few incompetent flunkies. This time around I wouldn't be so lucky.

"Yeah," Glenn promised, his voice a whisper.

The backdoor was yanked open, two sets of hands roughly pulling me out. The gunshot wound to my arm stretched and pulled, the wound still bleeding consistently as they drug me between them. When they stopped I saw two other men standing opposite me. One with a gun aimed at Maggie, the other with a gun aimed at Glenn. Merle stood in front of us all, a smirk tugging at his lips that made me so queasy I had to look away. It was the same smirk Daryl had given me just this morning outside the bathroom.

"Alrighty then, you two take the Chinaman and his sexy little piece that way." He pointing to his left. "And you two take Firecracker over there. Ya know what to do."

My eyes shifted to my friends one last time as we were pulled in opposite directions, and I wondered if it would be the last time I ever saw them. I scanned my surroundings as the two men drug me between them, memorizing distance, cataloging weapons, counting personnel all the while looking for potential escape routes, anything that might give me an advantage. I might not get the chance to use the knowledge, but old habits died hard and luck favored the prepared.

The road we were on was dirt, but when we first entered the compound it had been paved. The smooth surface of asphalt a stark contrast to the bumpy unpaved road we traveled on for the majority of the trip. There were rows of what looked like old shipping containers Mack trucks used to pull behind them on every highway across America not so long ago. Only these containers had been modified to include grated, metal doors that were welded to the sides, complete with hinges and locks. I fully expected to be shoved into one of the many lining the side of the road, but my captors bypassed them and I frowned. Why go through all the trouble to make them and not use them?

We continued passed a tall building that was a factory at one time, but its heyday ended long before the apocalypse. Most of the windows were either missing entirely or covered by metal sheeting and the roof looked on the verge of collapse. Taken together the place reminded me of a third world shanty town, but this was southern Georgia not Afghanistan. It didn't add up. Every single occupant of this community I'd come across was clean and well fed. There was no way they called this place home. It had to be some kind of underbelly in an otherwise pristine compound. Every crackpot leader had dirty little secrets, and I would bet my last can of ABCs and 123s this was The Governor's.

A collection of snarls drew my attention as we passed another shipping container and I blanched as my previous question was answered. Why retrofit a shipping container to function like a prison? Because you needed somewhere to lock up your pet walkers. The men pulling me between them didn't bat an eyelash at the rows and rows of walkers snapping and clawing at the metal grating keeping them confined. I had one question answered, but now I had about a zillion more. Why keep pet walkers at all? What could they possibly use them for? I had no clue and something told me I didn't want to find out. When we passed by an open area with wooden poles arranged in a circle complete with metal chains secured by bolts and bleachers on either side I felt the first real trickle of fear race down my spine. How did they sleep knowing all this was taking place only a few feet away from their beds? It would give Freddy Krueger nightmares and I had only seen a fraction of it.

More questions with no answers. My mind could only come up with two plausible explanations for the…arena? Either they were either using it as some kind of sacrificial ring where they offered up virgins to appease their god or they started their very own Fight Club. I couldn't decide which one was worse. I was hoping it was for sacrificing virgins because I figured at least then I was safe. This place made Christian Grey's red room of pain look like Chuck E. Cheese.

The men veered hard to the right after we passed the fight/sacrificial ring, swinging open a rickety door and ushering me in. The inside of the structure was lined with what looked like tin on one side and old bricks from the original structure on the other. There were electrical wires running across the ceiling, hastily strung and tapped together like electricity to this part of the community was an afterthought. We passed a few doors before they found the one they wanted and shoved me in. One of the men kept a firm hold on me, a knife pressed so hard against my throat it was hard to swallow without the sharp blade nicking my skin. The other knelt down, cutting away the zip ties at my feet before removing the ones on my hands. Before I could relish the feeling of being free of from my restraints they sat me down in what reminded me of a dentist chair, zip tying my hands and feet to the solid steel frame. The man doing the restraining looked conflicted, his eyes darted to mine in muted apology as he tightened them enough to imprison me, but not hurt me. I memorized his face, tucking that little bit of information away for a rainy day.

Someone with a guilty conscience. Interesting.

"Outside Martinez," Luke barked at my guilty captor as he stepped into the room. Martinez paused for a moment, hesitant to leave me alone with Luke. Maybe more than just a guilty conscience then, maybe an ally. At the very least he wasn't a total nut job. I could work with that.

"I'm touched you came to see me Lucy." Martinez covered his laugh with a cough as Luke shot him a nasty glared any second grader would envy. The two men had a quick pissing contest before Martinez shut the door without a backwards glance. Now it was just me and the last Defender.

He smiled at me, obviously proud of himself for reasons unknown, but knowing Lucy that wasn't a difficult benchmark. "Comfortable?"

I shrugged, "Not the first time."

"Probably the last."

"Oooh, was that a threat?" I grinned, "You gotta work on it man. You aren't bringing the scary." He closed the distance between us in two steps hitting me hard across the face with the back of his hand. My head whipped to the side a throbbing headache flaring at my temples. "Better, but you need to put your back into it."

I wasn't goading a man who was dead set on killing me because I was glutton for punishment. Granted it was mildly amusing to watch his eyeballs bulge and the vein in his neck pop out, but anyone could fluster Lucy. He made it too easy. This was just the sideshow. People made mistakes when they allowed emotions to overwhelm them and that was exactly what he was doing. His need to prove he was better, tougher, smarter than me would override his better judgement. It would cause him to slip up. Maybe a little, maybe a lot, but either way it didn't matter. I didn't need much. One tiny mistake and I could level this town with nothing but the contents of my pockets and all I had in there was a discarded wrapper from a stick of gum and a condom. I was a Doomsday MacGyver. He exhaled harshly, bringing his right hand back and slamming it into my face just underneath my right eye. My neck popped loud and violently as my head snapped back. Ow.

"What, no witty comeback?" he taunted with a smile when my only response was a groan. "I just came in here to let you know your friends are settling in. I'm surprised the skinny guy's holding out, but I'm the smart money is on Merle. He always breaks them."

I stared at him impassively. Nothing in my outward demeanor betraying how much his words unsettled me. My anxiety for my friends was so palpable it was difficult to keep my body from vibrating with the desire to snap his twig of a neck. But the Alex tied to the dental chair wasn't friends with Glenn and Maggie so I forced out a lazy sigh, cocking my throbbing head to the side with indifference. The Alex staring back at him didn't care they were being beaten and terrorized.

"Well, good luck with that."

He grabbed a fist full of my hair, yanking my head back, "I thought you were willing to spill all their secrets?"

"That was only if you let them go and my debt to them was repaid. You took them so the deal's off. Try to keep up." His hand wrapped around my gunshot wound and he squeezed, digging his fingers deep into the gaping hole in my skin. I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming.

"I'm going to enjoy watching this." He leaned in close, the pressure on my wound intensifying as blood poured down my arm.

"Go to hell," I spat, tears welling in my eyes from the pain.

He cocked his head to the side, letting go of my arm with a shove. "You first."

He turned on his heel and left, hitting the lights on his way out and plunging the room into darkness and I almost thanked him for the tiny respite. The dull throb in my skull was now a raging migraine. I let my head fall to my chest as exhaustion and pain settled into my bones. I felt my eyes closing even as I fought to stay awake, knowing sleep was a bad idea for many reasons not the least of which was a head injury, but my body didn't seem to care I might never wake. In fact, it might prefer it, but before I could surrender to the darkness music pumped into the room through speakers hanging in all four corners I hadn't noticed. It was loud. So thunderous it made the metal chair vibrate underneath me and my teeth rattle. My ears felt like they might explode from the volume and I struggled to swallow the acidic bile inching its way up my throat from the agony exploding like fireworks behind my eyes.

Psychological warfare it was then. I was well acquainted with the technique so I knew what came next. This song, or one just like it, playing on repeat in an endless loop. I took a deep breath through my nose, holding it for a moment before slowly blowing it out through my mouth. I repeated the action several times until the nausea passed. Once my nausea was relatively under control I was able to focus on blocking out the blaring sounds. I smiled as I let my head fall back against the cushions of the chair, focusing my mind as the music faded little by little until it was so far in the background it was hardly noticeable. It wasn't that this was a bad tactic per say, but breaking someone with this method took time, lots of time. Everything I knew about these men told me they didn't have the patience for it. They would break long before I ever did.

I retreated deeper into my mind where nothing but blissful silence awaited me. I heard the music, could feel it humming through every bone in my body, but I didn't allow it to touch me. I wasn't in this room. I wasn't tied to this chair. I wasn't facing endless interrogation followed more than likely by death. In my mind it was last night and I was in the tower with Daryl. It was quiet and I was safe. He was holding me, his arms firm and solid, grounding me in a moment of pure joy. He whispered reassuring words into my ear he had never actually spoken. I told him things I would probably never get the chance to say in real life. He told me to rest and I let my eyes fall closed, confident in his ability to keep me safe, even if it was a dream.

I'm not sure how much time passed as I sat in the dark, my memories of the previous night my only company. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The music cut out at the same time the lights flicked on and I blinked rapidly trying to focus, my eyes watering as they adjusted to the stark contrast between dark and light.

When my vision finally cleared the first person I saw was Merle followed by Luke and then Martinez, all three standing by the wall near the door, but my focus was on the man standing in the middle of the room. I had never seen him before now. He was tall, lean but deceptively strong, somewhere in his mid-forties with dark brown hair that was graying around his temples. His jaw was clean shaven and his clothing impeccable. He was dressed as if the world never ended, right down to his wingtip shoes. His dark eyes were like black pools as he critically assessed me as I sized him up. He had an authoritative air that surrounded him, but there was more to it than that. The men behind him didn't have their backs pressed against the wall because they respected him. No way. I saw the way Luke fidgeted nervously, eyes flicking to him then back at the ground over-and-over. Martinez, on the other hand, locked his eyes on the man and hardly seemed to blink as if that tiny moment of vulnerability was all he needed to strike. Merle's reaction was the most telling. Every story I'd ever heard about him said he was fearless, brash and absolutely horrendous at taking orders, but he stood in the back of the room, shoulders hunched like a whipped dog, sweat lining his upper lip, and a slight tremble in his one good hand. I didn't need the three terrified men in the room to confirm what I already knew about the man. He had an underlying current of violence running through his veins. I could feel it like a pulsating wave crashing against me as he stood there motionless. He may be dressed like a banker, but he wasn't one.

He walked forward slowly, eyes sweeping me from head to toe with a clenched jaw that begot concern at my battered state, but he couldn't hide the dilation of his pupils or the slight change in his breathing. It didn't concern him. It excited him. This man was as cold-blooded as they came. He was probably outwardly charming which explained the community he held under his thumb and the firepower he commanded. That was sociopath 101. There were reasons you never saw men like this coming. It was because by all outward appearances they were unremarkable, well-adjusted, friendly and highly educated. They were everyone's neighbor and no one's enemy. Those skills made them exceptional at manipulation. You followed them willingly, right to your death. He was David Koresh in a sweater vest.

"Welcome to Woodbury," he said as he took a seat opposite me, crossing his legs like a woman in that weird way some men thought was sophisticated but was just odd. That could not feel good on the boys.

"You must be The Governator." His lips pressed into a hard line. Mental note, easy to rile up.

My eyes shifted briefly to the men behind him as he gathered himself. Martinez looked uncomfortable, Luke looked ecstatic, but Merle…something was definitely off with him and it wasn't just his fear of the lunatic sitting in front of me. Something had changed, something big. Gone was the brash, insult slinging redneck that found everything funny. In his place was a man who looked scared to death. That did not track with what I knew about Dixon's. They didn't get nervous. They didn't do scared. Those kinds of traits were for _other_ people. Whatever had him spooked was serious. He looked ready for war. I knew because I'd seen the same look on his brother's face. The question was why? A few hours ago he was the confident, cocky, right hand man to this dick weed.

"Your friends tell me you took the prison not far from here." The Governors voice brought my attention back to him, but I merely raised an eyebrow. If he was expecting a dramatic response he was going to be severely disappointed. "Care to tell me exactly how you did that?"

"Not really."

"If what Luke says is true you must have been instrumental in occupying it. That prison is deep in the red zone overrun with biters." He crossed his hands over his knees, leaning back like we were having a conversation over afternoon tea. When I kept my mouth shut he huffed in irritation. "What did you do before all this?" he asked, changing tactics when silence was his only answer.

"Kindergarten teacher." He smiled at me and it made my skin crawl. I could not imagine a person alive who wouldn't find that creepy as hell. He was a crazy lollipop triple dipped in psycho.

"How long have you been with that group?"

I shrugged, trying not to wince at the sting in my arm. "Hard to say. My secretary is shit at keeping my schedule straight."

He was playing a game I'd practically written the rule book to. Ask a question, wait for the subject to answer or not. Sometimes not saying anything was more telling than an answer. Interrogation was one of my many specialties before the world ended so I was well versed in this particular subject. I could dissect a subject like a biology project. A tilt of their head, a slight shifting of weight, diverting their eyes, it was all communication of the non-verbal variety. It was an art form of subtle nuisances that told you everything you needed to know if you knew how to listen. When I wasn't the one zip tied to a chair my subjects refusing to answer made little to no difference. I didn't need answers to wiggle my way inside their head and take up root. People lied all the time even when they didn't have to. Body language, facial tics, changes in breathing, those you could count on to spill all your dirty little secrets.

If The Governor was hoping for the same result with me he was wasting his time. He'd have better luck going back to beating Glenn and terrorizing Maggie. I wouldn't break. Not here. Not now. Not ever. Sure, I might talk, but I would never tell them anything I didn't want them to know. Some might be truth, some might be lies, but they would never be able to differentiate between the two. The key to convincing your captors to accept your lie as truth was to believe them yourself. You had to be all in. There was no room for weakness, fear, regret or second guessing.

"You're quiet loyal to a group of people you say just met."

I smiled, "Or maybe your hospitality is a little lacking. I offered to turn on them willingly back in town and took a bullet for my trouble."

He frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the Three Amigos. Obviously they neglected to share that tidbit of information. "I apologize for their behavior. That's not normally how we do things around here." He shifted in his chair, rearranging his crossed legs. Lie. "Maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement."

I pretended to consider his offer. This Alex wasn't loyal to the group at the prison. I was a woman of opportunity, a mercenary just surviving in what was left of the word.

"Depends on the terms," I finally replied.

"And those would be?" He was intrigued, but not on the hook.

"Well for starters not having the shit beat out of me would be a nice change of pace."

He nodded, "Of course." Lie. We weren't off to a good start.

"Two, I get five minutes alone with that piece of shit. No questions asked." My wrists may be zip tied to the chair, but I could still point and my bloody finger was aimed right at Luke. Martinez took a few steps away from him just so there was no confusion. The Governor grinned.

"Done." Truth. Luke paled and I smiled. Now it was time to swing for the fences.

"Last, you let Maggie and Glenn go."

He shook his head, "Why would someone who cares nothing about them make such a demand?"

"As I told Mutt and Jeff over there," I nodded my chin at Merle and Luke, "I owe them. They saved my life when they could have left me for dead and I pay my debts."

"You have a deal." Lie. I narrowed my eyes at him. "So long as you tell me how your group took the prison."

Now this was a problem. I could give him a play-by-play of how we took the prison and he still wouldn't believe it. It was an anti-climactic story. We were good at what we did and what we did was kill walkers.

"We found it by chance and got lucky," I started, "Had people in the tower covering our man on the ground as he ran for the main fence. Once he got it closed we picked them off one at a time."

He was quiet, face impassive. He showed no sign of surprise at my confession and a tendril of doubt made my stomach clench. "And the rest of the prison?"

I shrugged, wincing slightly at the pain in my arm. "A small group of us cleared out one cellblock. The rest we locked down or barricaded to keep the walkers out." Not the whole truth, but I could already tell from his expression it didn't matter. Not only was he not surprised by my reveal, he didn't seem to care. He hadn't come in here to talk about the prison.

"You did all that with only a handful of people in your group?" I shook my head yes and he smirked. "Sorry, but that's a little hard to believe."

"It's the truth." Taking it hadn't been our greatest challenge. Keeping it was an entirely different story. We paid an incredibly high price to do that.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need more than your word to honor our arrangement." I _sooo_ did not like the sound of that.

"Meaning?" The other shoe was about to drop.

He smiled, "A small demonstration should suffice."

I was afraid he was going to say that. This explained his lack of surprise. He already knew how we took the prison and how many people were in our group. He only asked me because it gave him a segway to what he really wanted. Me. Luke had taken me by force from the shopping center because he believed his boss would salivate over someone with my capabilities. He was right. The smug look on his face right now only confirmed it. He would never honor our agreement. He wasn't letting any of us go.

"I'm gonna have to pass."

He stood up, brushing off non-existent pieces of dirt from his dorky sweater vest. "You misunderstand. I wasn't asking. Take her outside," he ordered.

Luke and Martinez came forward, each cutting the restraints on their side before standing me up and shoving me out the door keeping a gun pressed against my back for good measure. I was led to the sacrificial ring and pushed into the center by Luke. There were dozens of men lining the either side of the ring all eyeing me up and down with open skepticism. Whatever they were expecting I wasn't it. That was understandable. On the outside I wasn't much to look at. The Governor took his sweet ass time walking to a set of bleacher and climbing to the top.

"Two men step forward."

It wasn't hard finding volunteers. I was shot, bleeding, and beaten. To them I looked like an easy target, a way to score brownie points with their psychotic leader. On any other day I would wipe the floor with these ass-hats if only to prove a point, but not today. That was what The Governor wanted and it would only confirm Luke's claims. I wouldn't give him that. I'd been a weapon once before and that was with my consent. I would die before I became one without it.

Two burly men swaggered towards me, identical self-assured smiles on their faces. The slapped each other on the back, pointing at me as they tipped their heads back to laugh at their joke. They stopped a few feet away and took up fighting stances, but faltered when I didn't reciprocate. Sure they were all for beating up on a woman, but only if she hit back. The one on my right glanced over his shoulder at The Governor who motioned for him to continue. He turned around looking a little less enthusiastic about pummeling me. How chivalrous. Stepping forward hesitantly he reared back with his right hand, lips pulled into a thin line. The brawny muscles in his chest and shoulders constricted as he swung his enormous fist straight at my face. I kept my face relaxed and arms loose at my sides as his fist sailed at me in what seemed like slow motion. I didn't move. I didn't blink. It was a game of chicken and I had no intention of losing.

"What the…" he muttered, his hand stopping inches from colliding with his target. His eyes bulged as he stared down at me, hand dropping to his side. "You're fucking crazy."

"She didn't even flinch," the one behind him mumbled as they both looked at The Governor for guidance. The hired help may be shocked I was willing to take a right hook to the eyeball, but he wasn't. If anything his demeanor said he expected as much.

"You really going to make this difficult?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Being difficult is kinda my thing."

He sighed dramatically like my defiance exasperated him, but like back in my cell, he couldn't completely hide his crazy. He liked it. This was like foreplay to him and I wanted to hurl. Just…gross.

"Bring them out."

Two figures were hauled forward, bags over their heads, and I dropped my eyes to the ground. I didn't need to watch the big reveal to know who they were. I told them in the truck they would use us against each other and now they were. If I didn't fight they would kill them one at a time or maybe they would beat them in front of me until I complied. Either way it didn't matter. My time was up. There was no more stalling.

"You want to save their lives and repay your debt?" He motioned towards the duo. "Here's your chance."

Even though I was prepared for it I couldn't stop my blood from boiling as I looked at Glenn. His face was bloodied, swollen and bruised. My eyes shifted to Merle who was hidden in the rear of the group trying to blend into the background, but I saw him. When our eyes met he quickly looked away. If I didn't known better I would have sworn I saw regret, but I did know better. Maggie looked unhurt physically, but her face was far too pale and she was wearing Glenn's shirt. My tenuous control almost snapped then and there.

Turning to The Governor I scowled, "You're making a mistake."

"That's what they all say," he laughed, his men joining in. "Again."

This time when the one in front of me swung he didn't stop. His fist slammed into my cheek with enough force to send me stumbling to the side. The pain radiating from the impact point held nothing on the migraine that was back in full force. Slowly I traced a thumb along my lower lip, inspecting the smear of blood before standing up straight and facing them, making no move to defend myself.

"Again!"

The first one lost his nerve so his companion stepped forward. This time instead of a fist to my face I took one to the gut. My head was grateful for the break, but all the air was sucked out of my lungs like a siphon as I fell to the ground on my hands and knees, gasping painfully for air that wouldn't come. Glenn and Maggie screamed in the background, but I could hardly hear their voices over the wheezing in my chest.

"I don't have time for this," The Governor said in annoyance. "Get them on their knees!" Glenn and Maggie were forced to the ground, two men pressing guns against the backs of their heads.

"Stop," I sputtered, holding up a hand as I slowly made my way to my feet.

"Willing to play now?" I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders and cracking my knuckles.

"When this is all over remember who started this war." He laughed. They all did. Idiots, every single one. They thought themselves invincible, but they had never been tested.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "Let's get on with it."

I brought my hands up in a defensive posture, spreading my feet out as I slide my right foot behind my left slightly, sizing up the men in front of me. I didn't dare look at Glenn or Maggie. What I was being forced to do, what they were going see, made me sick. Would they ever look at me the same after this? I couldn't imagine so. How did you look a monster in the eye and feel comfortable? The two men grinned at me, downright giddy with anticipation. They advanced slowly, spreading out as one came at me from the left and the other from the right.

Before they got closer enough to engage The Governor changed the rules. "Keep in mind, you kill one of mine I kill one of yours."

My hands dropped as I gawked at him. He smiled, his teeth so unnaturally white it was practically blinding. Asshole. I refocused on my assailants. He said no killing, but he didn't say anything about maiming. Hello loophole.

I turned to the closest one, sprinting towards him with speed that surprised him. He swung forward with his left hand and I easily avoided the hit, parring his move in order to position myself behind him. As the momentum of his strike carried him in front of me I hooked my left arm under his armpit and around to his shoulder. I swung my body around his like a swing dancer, my legs going up and over his head as I locked them around his neck. The addition of my body weight caused him to stumble, his body pitching forward in an attempt to stay upright, but it only served to advance my position as I reached up and looped my right arm under his chin. He let out a strangled yelp as I twisted my upper body at the same time I released my arms sending him spiraling to the ground on his knees. I untangled my legs before I hit he ground, easily landing on two feet beside him.

Giving him no time to recover I wrapped my right arm around his throat, rotating my upper body with as much force as I could muster towards the ground behind him. His disorientation and unbalanced weight sent him flying backwards. His back slammed into the ground so hard I felt the ground beneath me shake, his head striking the hard packed soil like a blunt force object. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body went limp, unconscious but alive. In less than a minute he was out of the fight.

"Holy shit," someone muttered in the crowd, but I ignored it.

The sound of footsteps pounding behind me held my entire focus. I spun around just in time to see the second man slashing at my head with a knife. I kicked my feet out from underneath me, my body parallel to the ground as I rotated like a figure skater completing a double axel. The blade passed over my head and body as I reached for the ground with my left hand, reaching across my body so I could roll on my shoulders to lessen the blow as I hit the ground. Popping up I slide on my knee for a moment before skidding to halt and jumping to my feet, now behind my attacker. Grabbing the hand holding the knife I yanked it behind his head, the shoulder joint on the verge of dislocation. He cried out in pain, dropping the blade as I twirled into him like we were dancing except instead of looking at him with doe eyes I slammed my elbow into his nose. Blood exploded from his face as bone and cartilage were crushed by the impact. His vision was impaired by the involuntary watering of his eyes, and his attack stalled due to the pain of his now broken nose. He would probably bow out on his own, but in an effort to expedite the process I spun on my heel, hooking my right leg around his neck and stomping my foot back into the ground. He fell onto all fours and I kicked my steel toed boot into his face, ignoring the sound of his cheek bone shattered as he crumpled. He didn't move again after that.

I stood up, breathing hard as I surveyed the remaining crowd. Want some? Come get some. The once rowdy group was dead silent as they gaped at me. Their eagerness was gone, replaced by fear. They didn't take me seriously before, but they did now. The slow, ominous clapping made me want to march over to the bleachers and strangle The Governor with his sweater vest.

"My, my, seems Luke wasn't exaggerating." He walked down the steps of the bleachers, a seriously sinister smile on his face. "And here I thought we lost our chance for someone like this." The last part wasn't directed at me and I followed his line of sight to Merle who swallowed hard.

"I told ya that bitch is dead," he stated, his normally sure voice anything but right now. That was a lie.

"Yes, but what a waste." The Governor's beady eyes were back on me. He looked like every kid on Christmas morning. If the kid was a deranged sociopath. "If you'd done your job and convinced them _both_ to stay we wouldn't have lost such a valuable resource."

What the hell was he talking about?

"I told ya…"

The Governor's head snapped to Merle in warning and the he instantly went quiet. This explained why he was on the outs. He had failed The Governor in some way and now his ass was on the chopping block. That could be our opening. It wasn't much, but given the redneck looked scared beyond belief it might be enough. Best case scenario we convinced him to help us escape in exchange for taking him to his brother. Worst case scenario he killed us all to wiggle his way back into the inner circle. It was a coin toss.

"I think I'd like to see a little more." The Governor smiled at me, motioning for more men to come forward.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I barked. The two on the ground still hadn't moved and once they did they would need a feeding tube to eat for the foreseeable future, but he wanted more? He was a masochist, plain and simple.

"Afraid not." He winked at me and I glared back. This guy had more dick in his personality than in his starched, corduroy pants.

The mob advanced on me slowly and tentatively. They lost their taste for brownie points around the same time the unconscious men lost their front teeth. I could wait for them to take their sweet ass time getting to me or I could give them a little push and get this over with. Patience wasn't a virtue. It was a pain in my ass.

"Pussy's," I taunted with a sad shake of my head. As expected it did the trick. They came at me like a damn breaking. Men and their sensitive egos, always an easy target.

The first one to reach me was a short, stocky brawler who opened up with a telegraphed right hook. I dodged to my left, pushing on his elbow as his fist sailed by my face missing me entirely and sending him stumbling away from me. I didn't spare him a second glance as Andre the Giant's twin brother bum rushed me. He was at least 6'6'' and over 300 pounds so my options were severely limited. I sprinted towards him, his face clouding with confusion at my tactics, but before he could recover I jumped, extending my body and legs in front of me as both feet connected with his chest. The force with which I hit him caused and abrupt change in his trajectory, his arms and legs flailing, taking out more than a few of his counterparts in the process as he staggered. His massive body hit the ground like a giant sequoia being cut down in a National Park.

I fell to the ground on my back, eyes looking around wildly as the circle surrounding me got smaller and smaller. Pulling my legs up to my chest I put my hands flat on the ground rolling my weight onto my shoulders. In one explosive movement I kicked my legs up into the air as I pushed against the ground. My kick up landed me in a squat just as someone reached down for a handful of hair. Spinning around I delivered a roundhouse kick to his chin that sent blood and teeth flying out of his mouth.

Quickly standing up I had no time to recover as another man instantly replaced the one looking for his molars. I was forced to backtrack as he rained down punch after punch. I could feel my arms and legs tiring as I panted under the exertion of the never ending fight. He clipped my chin with a left hook I was only partially able to deflect and it sent me staggering to the side. Too exhausted for anything flashier I pivoted around to face him, sending my own left hook directly at his face. He was too busy congratulating himself for stunning me to see it coming. As my fist connected with his chin his arms went limp at his sides and he fell on his face at my feet. Night, night dickhead.

Again and again they came. Some I handled without incident while others landed blows that momentarily stunned me. I danced and weaved around them, in-between them, among them. There were at least a dozen out of the fight, some groaning in pain, some clutching broken bones, some knocked the fuck out, but this was an exercise in futility. No matter what I did or how long I did it I would never win this fight. There were too many and I was only one person. My body was nearing its limit. My fighting sloppy and sluggish with fatigue as I tried to hold off the mob trying to kill me.

I wasn't at all surprised when one of them caught me with a roundhouse kick to the side of my head that made stars explode in my field of vision. A part of me was even glad. The quicker they killed me the quicker the pain stopped. They crowded around my prone form as I lay on the ground. Yelling insults and screaming profanity as they kicked, hit and clawed at me like a pack of rabid dogs. I curled myself into a protective ball, trying to make myself as small as possible, covering my head with my arms, instinctively trying to protect the most crucial parts of my body.

"Enough!"

The Governor's shout was enough to break up the feeding frenzy as the group took a collective step back. I could barely hear the metallic click of his ridiculous dress shoes on the bleachers over the flood of pain roaring in my ears. Gingerly I rolled to my side, pausing only long enough to make sure I didn't pass out before struggling to my hands and knees. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallow down the bile as my stomach rolled, my body screaming at me to lie back down. Ignoring the pain and queasiness I pushed myself to my feet through sheer willpower. I would sooner wash my hair with Daryl's cigarette ashes than lie beaten at this man's feet. He stopped in front of me, just out of arms reach. I would have laughed at his bitch-ass if it didn't hurt to blink.

He whistled as he looked me up and down, shaking his head like he couldn't believe I was still alive much less upright. I swayed dangerously on my feet, struggling to remain conscious, my vision cutting in and out of focus as I starred at the three Governor's standing in front of me. I decided to focus on the one in the middle if only for the sake of my equilibrium.

"What's your name?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. Now I really might puke. I _did not_ want this man finding me intriguing.

My unfocused gaze wasn't on him or a shell shocked Glenn or a sobbing Maggie. It was on the lone man standing apart from everyone else. He was watching me, his face grim. He may have shot me and tortured my friends, but his body language screamed he didn't agree with what was happening and an absolutely insane idea struck me. It was a gamble, that much was sure, but given my current state I had nothing to lose. If this was a preview of what my time here would be like I wouldn't survive the night much less tomorrow.

Two tears in a bucket, fuck it.

Turning my attention back to The Governor I held his unflinching gaze with my own. I may be addressing him, but my answer was for the man standing behind him.

"Alex Dixon."

* * *

 **Oh snap!**

 **This was just too much fun to pass up. I hope you're interested (dying) to know how Merle will react and enjoy seeing Alex kick a little ass. Things are really picking up speed now.**

 **Thanks so much for reading! You guys are the absolute best.**


	27. Love The Way You Lie

**Love The Way You Lie**

"I'll take it from here," Merle said, his usual swagger back in full force as he sauntered into the room.

Lifting my chin from my chest I watched him as he glared at my young and extremely nervous guard. Why I needed an armed guard when I was zip tied to the dental chair, beaten and bleeding all over the place was anyone's guess. I wasn't a threat to the fly that kept buzzing my face like a fighter pilot in Top Gun much less anyone who could stand without assistance.

"Uh, I, um…" the young man stuttered. Merle's order was in direct conflict with Luke's which was, _'I don't care if a herd of biters strolls in and wants to slow dance with you. You don't leave this room.'_

Merle's demeanor unsettled the already jittery kid, and he was a kid. He was tall and too skinny, all gangly limbs and knock-knees, but his face held a healthy portion of baby fat his transition into manhood had yet to shed. He'd been nothing but a bundle of nerves since the moment he walked into the room. He couldn't look me in the eye, opting to look over my shoulder or random points above my head. I unsettled him, that much was obvious, but he was reluctant to take his eyes off me all the same. Quite the conundrum for the young lad. If talking didn't take so much effort I would have told him he didn't have anything to worry about. The only thing I was capable of at the moment without fail was fading in and out of consciousness.

Merle raised his eyebrows at him and I stifled a laugh as the kid literally shook in his boots. I bet if either of us yelled 'boo' he would have a nervous breakdown right here. This was his first big boy assignment. I knew it. Merle knew it and he was taking full advantage. For about a millisecond the kid stood his ground, his body tucked into a corner as he trembled, eyes wide and locked on the redneck stalking towards him with a sinister smile on his face. It was so over-the-top it was comical. All it took for the kid to decide he would rather face a Defender than a one-handed hillbilly was a little shake of his stub. The kid moved so fast it was like he teleported out of the room, his feet touching the ground only twice in his haste.

Merle chuckled briefly, grabbing a chair and placing it directly in front of me. He sat down slowly, all humor extinguished the second the door slammed closed, his face serious. He saw me in a different light after my bombshell in the ring, but he wasn't entirely sold. His eyes swept all over my face, searching, but for what I didn't know. Even if I _was_ married to his brother I wouldn't have tattooed Mrs. Dixon on my forehead.

"Who are ya?"

"I already told you."

He growled in annoyance. "Don't play games with me Firecracker. I ain't in tha mood."

"Well that would be a first," I joked.

"We ain't got time for this." Not true. I had all the time in the world. At least until someone came back and finished me off, but evidently he was on some kind of a schedule. "Said yur name's Dixon." I nodded at him. "That yur real name?" Was that hope I heard in his voice?

Here's the thing about Dixon's; there was no grey area when it came to loyalty. It was black and white with them. You were either one of them or an outsider, plain and simple. I may not have Dixon blood running through my veins, but marriage was an instant initiation into their closely guarded ranks. It was like becoming royal only without the fancy hats, important titles and finger waves. Instead you got squirrel innards as a wedding gift and in-laws that shot at you.

Everything was ridding on this. If Merle believed I was indeed married to his brother he would feel obligated to help me, his uncompromising loyalty to his sibling extending to me by virtue of our union. On the other hand, he might not believe me and kill me himself because I pissed him off. Not exactly a win-win scenario, but The Governor would be the death of me one way or another so like it or not my best chance was the unpredictable man sitting across from me. Blood made you related, but loyalty was what made you family.

"It's my married name. My maiden name is Winters," I told him evenly.

Saying it out loud made my heart hammer in my chest and pulse skyrocket. I told myself a 1,000 times since I came up with this harebrained scheme it was just a way to get through to Merle, to save us, but deep down there was a very large part of me that wanted it to be true. It was stupid to entertain the idea much less get attached to it. Merle was right, Daryl wasn't the marrying kind, and that stung more than it had a right too. If my hands weren't tied to a dental chair I would bitch slap myself for being sad about something I never had or wanted. How could you miss something that was never yours to begin with? Never in my life had I seriously considered the idea of marriage that was until I came across a crossbow totting redneck that discriminated against sleeves. With him, like most things, everything was different. I didn't know who was more shocked by the revelation, me or Merle.

"Said ya wasn't with his group long."

I snorted, "I said a lot of things."

"Bullshit!" he shouted. "My brother ain't the marryin' kind." You don't say.

"Been a while since you've seen him. He's a different man."

"Ain't no changin' a Dixon."

"I'll give you that. I still can't get him to shower on a regular basis and he smoke's those cancer sticks like it's still 1950." Merle's face scrunched up in disbelief.

"No fuckin' way. I don't believe ya! Knowing that don't mean yur hitched. Anyone 'round him for 10 minutes would know that," he snarled, getting up so fast the chair toppled over as he paced the room like a caged tiger, another trait his brother also possessed. I watched him in silence as he made a few passes back-and-forth before licking my lips and taking a deep breath, crossing my fingers for good measure. Here goes nothing.

"You guys grew up in the mountains of Northern Georgia with an abusive father and a chain-smoking mother, the latter of which died in a house fire when Daryl was young. You did a stint in the Marines, but punching an NCO ended your career before it ever really got started. You were court-martialed and dishonorably discharged." His face lost all color, his steps faltering. "In typical redneck fashion you both moved in with your dealer because nothing says death wish like cooking meth with a Bunsen burner. You idiots spent your days doing nothing but drinking, watching TV and somehow not dying from toxic fumes until one night a discussion turned violent." His mouth dropped open, but I plowed ahead with my ace in the hole. "The dealer attacked you and in retaliation Daryl beat him within in an inch of his life. He almost killed him, probably would have, but somehow he landed a sucker punch to his gut that caused him to puke up the keg he drank that day. Of course you and your loser friend found this hilarious and all was forgiven. Shall I go on?"

Merle stumbled, his face white as a ghost. Shit, maybe I went too far. He looked like might pass out. His breathing was labored, eyes glassy and far away as his mind traveled back to a world before the apocalypse. I kept still and silent as he had a significant emotional event right in front of me.

After a few minutes his eyes snapped into focus, his face going from astonishment to acceptance in a heartbeat. It wasn't much, but I saw the subtle shift in his demeanor. He believed me. What other reason would Daryl have to tell me their most closely guarded secrets? They weren't the sharing kind. They didn't even talk about these things with each other much less random strangers. Dixon's weren't talkers. If you couldn't smoke it, drink it or shoot it, you left it alone. He shuffled back to me, picking up the chair and falling into it.

"You and Daryl?" he asked, his face slack. I nodded again my throat too dry to speak. "Hooollly shiiit."

He exaggerated the words, turning a three syllable phrase into 40. Yeah, pretty much. Heaven help me when Daryl found out. I thought telling him I loved him was a line I would never cross. Now I'd gone and married us without even invited him to the wedding. That was just plain rude.

"I shot you!" he exclaimed, his voice approaching a pitch only dogs could hear as he pointed at my arm.

I pinned him with a dull look. "Yeah, I was there. Thanks for that _bro_."

"How did…when did…what did…" he trailed off, an all too familiar glazed over look in his eyes. He had about a zillion questions and I had neither the time nor the answers. I could spin a web of lies like nobody's business, but there were limits to my magic and dolling out the details of my fake wedding to my fake brother-in-law was one of them.

"Merle, snap out of it for fuck's sake." His eyes cleared as he looked at me then over his shoulder at the door. We really were in a time crunch. "Maggie and Glenn?"

"Fine." When I glared at him he amended, "They're alive." That _did not_ inspire me with confidence. "Don't gimme that look."

"You have to get them out of here," I pleaded.

"I can't do nothin'. In case ya missed it The Governor ain't rightly pleased with me at the moment. I'll end up in here with ya if I try."

"Well did you just come here to chat?" Now it was his turn to glare. "You can take that look and shove it up your ass Captain Hook. You want to see your brother? Find a way to get us out of here."

He ran his hand over his short, scruffy hair. "My brother musta lost his damn mind marryin' the likes of ya." Married five minutes and already fighting with the in-laws.

"So much I'm sure he doesn't even remember it," I mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." The sound of voices in the hall had us both looking at the door. He stood up quickly, moving the chair back to the wall. He reached behind him, pulling a knife from his pocket and I reared back, suddenly afraid I misread the situation. He scowled when he noticed the shift in my demeanor.

"Have a little faith Firecracker," he smiled as he bent forward, lifting up the back of my shirt.

That did it. I didn't care if I had to take a piece of his ear to get him away from me I would Mike Tyson the shit out of him. He shot me. Taking a chunk out of an appendage was nothing compared to that, but I paused when I felt him slide the blade into my back pocket, pulling my shirt down to conceal the handle. He gave me a self-righteous smirk as my mouth fell open in shock.

"You did shoot me," I commented dryly as he stepped back.

He pointed at my waist, "That should make us even."

I laughed, "Not a fucking chance Dixon."

The voices were getting progressively louder. Merle scratched the stubble of his beard having some kind of internal debate. Whatever conclusion he came to I knew I wasn't going to like it.

"Play along." I didn't have time to answer as he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked back hard, pressing the knife attached to his stub to my throat. I yelped as the door swung open, pressing my back into the seat.

"What's going on?" Martinez questioned.

"Just seein' if Firecracker here had any useful information is all," Merle said in a sickly sweet tone, releasing me with a rough shove. "Ain't that right sweetheart?"

"Fuck off." I was only half kidding. Did he have to take a chunk of hair with him to make it convincing? Jesus.

"Let's go, Governor wants us."

"See ya soon," he promised as he walked out with Martinez without a backwards glance. My young guard returned looking more worried now than he was 10 minutes ago if that was even possible.

"Take a deep breath before you pass out," I instructed. He swallowed hard, hands shaking as stood as far away from me as possible. "Good lord kid, are you OK?" He didn't look OK. He looked like he was about to piss his pants.

"Keep your….mouth…shut."

I shook my head at him. "You need to sit down before you fall down. For the love of all things sacred, how old are you?"

"Old enough." I snorted, raising my eyebrows at him. "Seventeen." I groaned. A child. Not even old enough to vote, if that was still a thing. Great.

"How did you end up here?"

He adjusted his grip on his weapon, his palms sweaty. "My mom and sister…they needed somewhere safe. My dad died and it was just us. I promised him I would protect them."

I nodded in understanding. "Do they know what's going on here? Who The Governor really is?" Or rather _what_ he was?

He shook his head no, sweat dripping down his temple. This sucked. It would be easier if this community was packed full of accomplices. It was hard to justify burning it to the ground now that I knew it would include collateral damage.

"How old is your sister?" I didn't know why I asked him that. I didn't need to know. I didn't _want_ to care.

"She's 10. Her birthday was last week."

My mind immediately went to Carl. I squeezed my eyes closed. It could just as easily be him living here in blissful ignorance although Carl was too smart for that kind of thing. Still, could I really blame civilians, children, for trusting a sociopath? Things just got a lot more complicated that was for sure.

"What's your name?"

He hesitated, looking at the door for a beat before answering, "Tanner."

"I'm Alex."

"I know who you are."

"No you don't." The person he saw in the ring wasn't me. "How long have I been here?"

He shrugged, clearing his throat. "I'm not sure. I don't know…"

"Is it night yet?" I interrupted.

"Yeah."

"My friends, the two people I came here with, do you know where they are?"

"Please," he said, shaking his head, his floppy hair falling into his eyes. "I can't."

"Tanner, you can't stay here. It isn't safe. You know that." He looked at the ground, conflicted. "If you cut me loose, lead me to my friends, I can get you and your family out of here."

What the hell was I saying? I would be hard pressed to walk out of this room without falling and now I was promising to smuggle out an entire family? Before he could answer a series of loud bangs sounded outside. CS Triple Chasers. I would know that sound anywhere. When the rapid exchange of gunfire started I thought my heart might explode.

"Tanner! Cut me loose!" He was frozen in shock, fear making him instinctively back away from the door and the danger outside. "Tanner!" I tried again. It was no use. He couldn't hear anything except the small war raging on the other side of the door. "Shit."

I pulled on the zip ties, ignoring the burning in my wrists as the plastic dug into the deep, jagged wounds. I knew I couldn't break them, not without giving Merle a run for his money as Captain Hook, but maybe, just maybe, there was enough room to slide my hands out. Folding my fingers over each other I tugged and pulled, the skin on my wrist and hand sloughing off as I cried out in pain. Another round of gunfire erupted just as Luke barged into the room like a deranged tornado. He quickly scanned the room, a lone knife in his shaking hand as his eyes skimmed over Tanner before settling on me, a deep sigh of relief coming from him.

"Brought a knife to a gunfight Lucy."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Jokes on you bitch, your friends came all this way for a rescue and left you behind."

A roaring sound filled my ears as adrenaline rushed through my veins. They were here. _He_ was here. My mind buzzed with awareness at his proximity, a primal need to find him overwhelming me, but reality sunk in pretty quickly. I was still zip tied to the chair with not one, but two armed guards. Taking a deep breath to settle my nerves I pushed thoughts of Daryl from my mind, focusing instead on Luke's admission. A small smile tugged at my lips as I absorbed the information he hadn't said, but disclosed all the same.

"Lose someone Lucy?"

Perhaps two someone's. He practically growled in response and I tipped my head back, laughing despite the pain it caused my ribs. They found them. Glenn and Maggie were safe. My options expanded exponentially with every step the two of them took away from this place.

"I don't know why you're laughing bitch! They left you!" he screamed, but that only sent me into another fit of giggles, his discomfort music to my ears.

I didn't bother with a comeback. I knew the truth. Daryl wouldn't leave me unless he had no other choice. The moment they split the three of us up it made a successful rescue attempt for everyone unlikely. Assuming Glenn and Maggie hadn't been moved they were being held right next to the perimeter fence. I, on the other hand, was stashed away deep in enemy territory that was crawling with armed guards. Plus, they had no idea where to even start looking and judging by the firefight there wasn't time to stop and ask for directions. I just hoped everyone made it out safely. That was all that mattered. I would save myself.

Martinez walked into the room, glancing briefly at Luke then me. "Get her up and outside."

"What happened?" Luke asked, his eyes never leaving me.

"The Governor was hurt. That bitch we let go, the one with the samurai sword who was supposedly dead, cut out one of his eyes."

Oh. Hell. Yes. Could today get any better? I didn't know who this chic was, but I wanted to meet her and shake her hand.

"That's absolutely awful," I cackled, pouring on the sarcasm.

"Shut up," Martinez said with more exhaustion than vehemence. "Come on."

Luke cut me loose, shoving me ahead of him as I kept my hands up still trying and failing to stop laughing. No one held a gun to my back or a knife to my throat this time around. I guess they figured given my current state I was less of a threat. These guys almost made it too easy. I made an extra effort to hobble slowly, hissing in pain every few steps just to really sell it. No doubt I was supremely fucked up, but I could still kill everyone in this hallway without breaking a sweat. The knife Merle slipped me burned against my skin and I had to curl my hands into my palms to keep from using it to slit all their throats. It wasn't time yet, but it would be, soon.

Tanner shuffled beside me, the poor kid sweating bullets. "Stay close to me," I whispered and he tensed, the only indication he heard me.

The kid was on the wrong team, but it was out of necessity, not choice. He just wanted to keep what was left of his family safe and I understood that. If I could save him I would. Our route was familiar as they led me back to the sacrificial ring only this time instead of empty stands they were packed full of screaming people. There were armed guards sprinkled around the place, but the crowd looked like civilians. I didn't see a weapon on anyone as they stood, fists raised in protest, shouts of outrage filling the night. Luke stopped a ways back, the four of us concealed in darkness despite the torches and lights burning bright and illuminating the ring. I shifted to the side, scanning the crowd. These people had to be the community members, but what were they doing here and why did they look on the verge of rioting?

Sensing my curiosity Luke turned. "Don't worry, this is just the opening act. You're the main event."

The Governor's tall, lanky figure ambled into the middle of the ring, shoulders hunched in obvious pain and grinned when I saw his hastily bandaged eye. That looked like it hurt. A hushed murmur fell over the crowd before they all went still, waiting to hear from their leader.

"What can I say?" he began interjected a dramatic pause that made me roll my eyes. "Hasn't been a night like this since the walls were completed. And I thought we were past it."

I snorted and Luke glanced at me from over his shoulder, "Keep fucking quiet." I threw him a mock salute, winking at Martinez as he watched from a few feet away. His eyebrows furrowed, still trying to figure me out. Good luck with that one buddy.

"Past the days where we all sat huddled, scared in front of the TV during the early days of the outbreak." He turned in a slow circle as he addressed his cult. The man sure had a flare for public speaking I'd give him that. These people were eating this bullshit up. "The fear we all felt then…we felt it again tonight."

"Oh please," I muttered. When Luke rounded on me I raised my eyebrows. "Bite me Lucy."

He raised his hand, but before he could follow through with the hit Martinez caught his arm, restraining him. "Knock it off man," he hissed. When I smiled at Luke he almost started foaming at the mouth and Martinez sighed. "You too. I swear to god you have a death wish." He stalked off, leaving me with Luke and Tanner.

He sounded like Daryl. My chest constricted painfully at the thought of him, but The Governor kept rambling and I did my best to focus on his word vomit not my aching heart.

"And I failed you," he continued, "I promised to keep you safe. Hell, look at me. I…I should tell you that we'll be OK. That we're safe. That tomorrow we'll bury our dead and endure, but I…won't."

I glanced around at the people with a grim face. They were delusional if they believed a word that came out of his mouth, but it was obvious by the way they sat on the edge of their seats they did. Their eyes tracked him as he paced the ring like he, and he alone, held the key to their continued survival. They were too scared of the unknown to see what was really happening, and The Governor was taking full advantage of it. I understood fear better than most, but ignorance was harder to abide. The longer I stood in the shadows observing the harder it got to feel sorry for any of them.

"Cause I can't," The Governor ground out. "Cause I'm afraid." A rush of murmurs filled the crowd at his admission. "That's right, I'm afraid of terrorists that want what we have!" Terrorists? That was rich considering he turned me into a walking punching bag for his own sadistic pleasure. "They want to destroy us! And worse because one of those terrorists...is one of our own."

I felt my body tense, my limbs twitching with nerves as I awaited his big reveal even though I knew without a doubt who it was. Suddenly the knife at my back felt like a branding iron.

"Merle!" he accused, pointing to the man in question. He was standing off to the side, a nervous look on his battered face. "A man I counted on. A man I trusted. He led them here! He let them in!"

The Governor's henchmen drew their weapons on Merle, escorting him to the center of the ring. This wasn't going to end well.

"It was you. You lied. Betrayed us all!"

I watched as The Governor accused Merle of mutiny, the crowd roaring their consensus and I couldn't blame them. Merle wasn't going to win any personality contests. It wasn't a big leap to believe he was capable betrayal. A group of men made their way to the ring, a lone man with a bag over his head between them. His hands were tied behind his back, but he fought them every step of the way despite his disadvantage. My stomach dropped, my palms instantly sweaty as I watched in morbid fascination. His clothes, his walk, the way he fought his captors like the devil himself. It was Daryl.

"This is one of the terrorists!" The Governor shouted as they shoved Daryl forward. I was breathing so fast Tanner glanced at me in concern, but my gaze was focused straight ahead as they ripped the bag off his head. It was a minor miracle I didn't faint. I knew it was him, but seeing him standing there was a real punch to the tit. "Merle's own brother!"

The crowd went nuts, their bloodlust sending them into a frenzy. I barely heard a word, watching the two brothers', side-by-side, staring at each other for the first time in over a year. Fear. Surprise. Disbelief. A gamut of emotions on both their faces as they stood in stunned silence. I swallowed hard as Luke's earlier words slammed into me like a baseball bat.

The opening act.

Dread flooded my system, my throat going dry as I realized The Governor's twisted intentions .

"What shall we do with them, huh?" He smiled, phrasing it like a question, but it was a statement.

The crowd shouted and screamed, some even throwing objects into the ring. It was difficult to pick out any one voice, but I heard words like "traitors", "fight", "kill them both" being thrown around. This was worse than bad. It was a goddamn Greek tragedy. I glanced over my shoulder, looking to see if there was anyone behind me and found no one. There was not a cold chance in hell I was going to stand here and watch them kill each other.

"You wanted your brother now you got him," The Governor grinned at Merle.

He walked a slow circle around the brother's as they eyed each other warily. I saw a blonde head streaking into the ring only to be restrained by one of the armed guards. I shook my head to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Andrea? It couldn't be. I frowned, not trusting my own mind. This wouldn't be the first time I conjured up a dead woman so I searched my memories, trying to discern fact from fiction. Carol said she went down in a herd after saving her life back at the Greene farm. She was dead. She was _supposed_ to be dead, but every time I looked up she was there, pleading with the one eyed psycho. She was begging for Daryl's life with serious gusto, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. The guards drug her away as she kicked and fought to get free, screaming for mercy. It was a waste of time. The Governor didn't understand mercy.

"I asked you where your loyalties lie." The Governor pinned Merle with a look of pure hatred, motioning for a guard to cut Daryl's bindings. Holy fuck nuggets. Here we go. "And you said here. Well prove it."

I swallowed hard, praying to any god that would listen I was right about Merle. He may be an asshole, but he was a loyal asshole. He didn't hurt me and he wouldn't hurt his brother. He damn well better not or an angry mob of townsfolk would be the least of his worries. My mind raced as I struggled to adopt a Merle-ish mindset. Letting my IQ drop a few dozen points I asked myself what I would do if I were him? As I looked at the enraged crowd, the sacrificial ring set up like a stage, and the numerous armed guards the answer was obvious. I would play the game. There was no getting out of here without giving them a show. They wanted blood, violence, drama and I would give it to them. I would satisfy their savagery until I found my opening.

"Prove it to us all. Brother against brother. Winner goes free. Fight…to the death!"

When the crowd went wild with excitement I decided I was done worrying about this community's safety. They could all rot in Hell. Daryl looked at his brother from the corner of his eye, hesitant and unsure. Both emotions uncharacteristic on the normally self-assured man I had come to love. Carol told me once he was a different person around Merle. Up until this point I thought her stories exaggerated mainly because I couldn't imagine the Daryl she described, but looking at him now I realized she had drastically _understated_ the relationship. He stood next to his brother, a mere shadow of himself, in complete submission to his elder. I didn't know that Daryl.

Merle held his intact hand in the air, silencing the crowd. "Y'all know me! I'm gonna do whatever I gotta do to prove…" He spun around, slamming his fist into Daryl's face, catching him completely off guard. He fell to the ground kicking up dust in his wake as I dug my nails into my palm. I could feel blood trickling down my palm as I watched helplessly from the sidelines. "That my loyalty…" he shouted, adding a brutal kick to his brother's gut. "Is to this town!"

It was now or never. I didn't know how far Merle was willing to take this, but I wasn't willing to risk Daryl's life. Slowly, carefully, deliberately I reached behind me, my hand slipping underneath my tank top and grasping the hilt of the knife. I paused, eyeing the men in front of me, but their focus was solely on the ring. Pulling the knife out I kept it hidden behind my leg, my face blank, eyes forward. The sound of flesh hitting flesh made bile churn in already shaky stomach as I fought the urge to charge in there with nothing but a knife. I wouldn't make it two steps before I was dropped by a bullet and that helped no one. I had to wait and hope for a better opportunity. When men holding long, metal poles led walkers into the ring I wasn't sure how much longer I could bide my time. Apparently a fight to the death wasn't exciting enough for these degenerates.

Luke turned around briefly, flashing me his creepy, signature smile. "Show's about to get real interesting. I can't wait until it's your turn."

That made one of us.

The men holding the walkers took care to keep the dead far enough back their outstretched arms couldn't reach the duo fighting in the ring, but close enough that if either one faltered this fight would be over in a hurry. I grinned when Daryl landed a fierce right hook to his brother's face, pulling himself to his feet, anger flashing in his blue eyes. _That_ was the Daryl I knew.

Lock up the china the boys are at it again!

They wrestled on the ground, the crowd thunderous as they screamed for blood. Daryl wrapped his hands around his brother's throat, leaning down towards him and I saw Merle's lips move. This was it. I took a half step forward, Tanner's eye's flashing to mine, but he froze as I put a finger to my lips. He nodded slightly, a single tear trailing down his boyish face. At the same time the brothers popped to their feet, but instead of facing off against each other they were fighting back-to-back. I took another half step forward.

The sound of a single gunshot came from somewhere off to the side. The head of a walker dangerously close to Daryl exploding like an overripe melon. For a moment no one moved and then the world burst into fast forward. Martinez darted off, weapon drawn, screaming at the men to take cover. The crowd spilled out of the bleachers, ducking and screaming as gunfire came from all angles.

I sprang forward, left arm going around Luke's neck, the bend in my arm centered under his chin, my fist resting near his shoulder. He cursed, kicking wildly to dislodge my hold on him, but it was too late. I put my right hand on the back of his head, grasping my arm with my left hand to advance the hold. Using my bicep and forearms I exerted pressure on his neck and his feet gave out from under him. I kept the chokehold firmly in place as I lowered him to the ground. His body jerked wildly as he sputtered and choked, trying and failing to breathe.

"Go…to…Hell."

"You first." He collapsed on the ground, unconscious as I knelt over him, releasing my hold. Rearing back with my knife I sank the blade into his temple, ignoring Tanner as he vomited beside me. "I told you I was going to kill you."

Bullets were raining down on the ring, but a muffled sob caught my attention. I saw Tanner stand up, wiping puke from the corner of his mouth and leapt up, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to the ground.

"Stay down!" I ordered, taking the weapon from his shaking hands. Pivoting on my heel in a crouch I took aim at the two closest guard and squeeze the trigger both of them dropping. A smoke bomb was lobbed into the ring and I stood up, racing forward. "Come on!" I hollered at Tanner, shooting a guard in the head as we raced passed.

Someone shot out the lights on the perimeter fence and the ring was plunged into relative darkness. The entire scene was utter mayhem, people screaming, crying, shooting, but my mind was focused on one thing, Daryl. I raced into the smoke filled ring like a woman possessed, passing Merle who was bludgeoning a walker to death with the metal plating on his stub. Like it was scripted from a movie the smoke cleared and I spotted the angel wings stitched on the back of his vest. He was holding one walker by the throat to keep him at bay as he kicked at another trying to charge him. In less than two seconds I fired two rounds, killing both walkers, his head whirling around to locate the source of the shot.

I jumped over a dead body, grabbing Daryl's vest as I passed, yelling over my shoulder to Merle and Tanner. "This way!"

"Go, go!" Merle shouted from behind me and I turned around as he shoved Tanner forward, trying to get the terrified teenager to keep moving, but before he could take another step a single gunshot slammed into his head throwing him backwards.

"No!" I screamed, skidding to a stop. Daryl reached for me, but I easily dodged his outstretched hands as I backtracked towards the kid. I covered my mouth with my hand as I looked down at Tanner, a bullet hole right between his eyes. I promised him I would get him and his family out of here and now he was dead.

"Come on Firecracker!" Merle grabbed me by an arm as he ran by, dragging me away from the dead body.

I didn't fight him because there was no point. Tanner was gone. There was nothing I could do for him or his family right now. He shoved me into Daryl's waiting arms, the three of us ducking down as someone let loose a hail of bullets. We stayed low, trying to move fast but carefully as shots pinged off the metal structures surrounding us. A flashing light from a corner drew my attention as I squinted, watching the distinctive pattern of light then dark, someone signaling to us with a flashlight. I elbowed Daryl who looked down at me, following my outstretched hand to the light. The brother's nodded at each other over my head, Merle jumping off and taking off with speed that surprised me. Daryl pulled me up and I groaned, struggling to keep pace as we ran. Every step I took was pure agony as I panted, pure determination to not die keeping me going.

We passed a man wielding a familiar looking crossbow and I could practically feel Daryl's outrage. He swung at the man, never breaking stride as the man crumpled into a heap. Daryl swiped his prized weapon from his limp hands before he even hit the ground. I shook my head at the unconscious man. He was getting off easy. Touching the crossbow was a big no-no. We made our way towards the light, Daryl's one free arm going around my waist as he pulled my body against his, supporting my weight and somehow still holding his crossbow at the ready. Man had skills to pay the bills.

"Almost there Red," he encouraged, turning back to make sure Merle was still with us before shouting at him to pick up the pace. We rounded the corner and came face-to-face with Rick.

"Alex?" he said in shock, his face paling as he gave me a quick once over, but I just nodded, too tired to speak and too hurt to stop. I had to keep moving. If I stopped I wasn't sure I would be able to start again. "Let's go, go!"

Daryl picked up the pace and I stumbled, his arm around me the only thing keeping me from face planting.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I choked out between painful pants.

"Ain't funny Red."

"It's kinda funny."

As we exited the compound Merle came forward, motioning at me with his flesh hand. "I'll take her. She ain't gonna be no help getting' outta here and I ain't got no weapon 'cept my knife." As painful as it was to admit, Merle was right, I was about as useful as an ejection seat on a helicopter at the moment.

Daryl's mouth dropped open in disbelief as his eyes flicked from his brother's face to his outstretched hand. He pulled me away from him, curling his body in front of mine on instinct. To Merle's credit he didn't say anything, just waited patiently for Daryl to hand me over, but judging by the death grip he had on my hip that wasn't happening. I pulled out of his arms, falling sideways immediately, but Merle reached out, easily catching me with his good arm.

"Go," Merle ordered his brother who almost dropped his crossbow he was so shocked. "Calm down Darlina, I won't let nothin' happy to yur 'ol lady." His promise made me swallow my tongue.

Daryl frowned, but didn't comment as Rick raced past us, hollering for us to run. How could I forget we were married? My fake husband gave me one last lingering look before leading the group passed a set of burned out buses and broken down vehicles. I didn't hear anyone following us, but that didn't mean much. They would come. It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

"Which way?" Rick hissed.

"They're all at the arena," Merle answered, "That way."

"You're not going anywhere with us," Rick exclaimed and I groaned.

"You really want to do this now?" Merle said as he propped me up against one of the vehicles lining the street, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze before making his way to the metal fence and kicking at one of the sheets nailed to a wooden post.

"Alex, are you OK?" Rick asked, back turned as he kept a watchful eye for any approaching danger.

"Great, peachy, fabulous, never better."

I kept my head pressed against the vehicle, enjoying the feel of the cold metal against my flushed skin. Oh man, that felt like heaven. Maggie stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my shoulders as I patted her hand absently, letting her know I was alright. Sort of. She handed me a pistol which I clumsily stuffed in my jeans, hoping I wouldn't have cause to use it. I could hardly see and that was kind of a fundamental aspect of shooting. Merle hollered and cursed as he pounded on the metal fence before it final gave way and he ducked down, crawling out.

"Maggie, get her out," Daryl instructed. She guided me forward, my body working on autopilot as she led me out of Woodbury. "Rick, come on! We gotta go!"

It hurt like a son of a bitch as I curled my body into a ball so I could fit thought the hole in the fence. Tears filled my eyes as I fell through to the other side on all fours. I really hoped no one saw that. I could hear Merle killing walkers just up the street, their snarls and growls barely audible over his heavy breathing.

"A little help would be nice!" he yelled to no one in particular. I rolled my eyes, slowly pulling myself to my feet.

"Yeah, yeah, quit bitching."

"Oh no, not ya…" The sound of my gun firing drowned out his appeal as I killed the three walkers surrounding him. He covered his head with his hand like it would protect him if my aim went wide, but as the three bodies dropped to his feet he unfurled himself, looking at me with a nasty glare.

"That last one was close." I shrugged. Closer than a bullet to the arm? Didn't think so. He stood up, racing off down the street. "We gotta move!"

"A thank you wouldn't be out of line!" I yelled at his retreating back. Daryl ran up beside me, grabbing my hand as he started forward only to realize Maggie and Rick were standing still in the middle of the road.

"Let's go!"

They complied without question, but the hesitation was clear in their eyes. It was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose. Merle had been the one to rough up Glenn and by rough up I meant beat the shit out of him. No way that going to slide without some serious fireworks. We veered off the street and into the woods, running in silence for about a mile before the group slowed, night quickly turning into day.

"Car is just up ahead," Rick stated, slowly scanning the surrounding area. I put my hands on my knees wheezing in pain as Daryl hovered nearby, crossbow up. "Glenn!"

Glenn responded from somewhere in the distance, the crunch of pine needles and leaves getting louder as he ran towards us. I stood up, vision pitching to the side dangerously as I reached out, grabbing onto the closest object which was Daryl. His lips pressed into a hard, thin line as he watched me, silently asking if I was alright, but I shook him off. No, but what could we do about it now? Nothing. There would be plenty of time for explanations later. Much, much later. Like after a shower, a nap, and a round of Hershel's Clydesdale pain medication later.

"Now we got a problem here. I need you to back up," Rick told Glenn, his voice cautious, but it was too little too late. The moment he saw Merle his weapon was out and pointed at him. A woman I had never seen before stepped forward, drawing a mean looking samurai sword as she practically snarled at the older redneck. She must be the woman who relieved The Governor of an eye. I liked her already or I would if she wasn't foaming at the mouth. I tightened the grip on my own weapon, Daryl and I taking up defensive stances around his brother.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" Glenn roared as Deadpool attempted to race around him, sword poised to strike, murder in her eyes.

"Is there anyone who doesn't hate you?" I grumbled to Merle.

He scoffed, "Yur reputation ain't no better Firecracker."

Everyone started screaming, threats and accusations flying around so quickly my fuzzy brain struggled to keep up, but I understood the basics. Merle sucked. I kept my body in front of him and Daryl stepped in front of me. It wasn't that I particularly cared if he lived or died, but Daryl did so by default I was obligated to do everything in my power to keep the asshole breathing.

"He tried to kill me!" Deadpool screamed, weapon pointed at Rick who had his Python canon aimed at her head. No suspense on who was gonna win that one face off.

Daryl tried to reason with Glenn. "He helped us get out of there."

"Yeah, right after he beat the shit out of you," Rick added, glancing at Daryl.

"And shot Alex!" Maggie pipped up.

Well that was bound to make things worse. Daryl and Rick's heads swung around to look at me simultaneously and I opened my mouth to explain only to come up with nothing and close it again. Merle huffed behind me, unhappy with my poor defense of him, and I tried again with the same result.

"Thanks Firecracker," he grumbled and I shot him the finger. Stop shooting people and maybe it would be easier to convince them you weren't a dick.

"Technically," I began, my voice casual as I gestured to the bullet wound on my arm, "That's true."

"Which means he shot you." I narrowed my eyes at Maggie and she glared right back. That was not helping deescalate the situation.

"But," I added quickly when the vein in Daryl's neck started pulsating rapidly, a fake smile on my face. "He tried to make up for it by slipping me a knife. So there's that." If T were here he would be proud. My glass was _so_ half full.

"You're crazy for defending him," Maggie accused.

"Probably."

"He's insane!" Glenn cried.

"Definitely," I agreed, my eyes locked on the stranger among us. I may want to high five her for maiming The Governor but until she holstered the Medieval longsword I was more worried about her than Merle.

"Now, now Officer Friendly, we both took our licks," Merle laughed and I almost shot him myself. There was zero chance of us getting out of here without a body count if he started talking.

"Jackass," Daryl mumbled.

"Hey, shut up!" he yelled at his brother as I pushed against his chest, struggling to hold him back.

"Enough!" roared Rick. The screaming starting all over again as Deadpool tried to move around Rick at the same time Glenn raised his gun aiming for Merle, but pointing at Daryl.

"Get that damn thing outta my face!" Glenn dropped the gun immediately, but still looked pissed as he glared at a now smiling Merle.

"Man, it looks like you've gone native brother." Daryl stalked towards his brother and I stepped out of his path. I did not want a piece of that. No sir.

"No more than you hanging out with that psycho back there!" he yelled.

"Oh yeah man he is a charmer. I'll give ya that. Firecracker knows better than most, dontcha?" Five sets of eyes turned to me and I looked away, finding the ground fascinating. "That ain't all either. He's been puttin' the wood to yur girlfriend Andrea big time baby."

He flicked his tongue suggestively at Deadpool which given the look on her face might end up being hazardous to his health. She had a crazed look in her eye that promised vengeance. He better shut up before he lost his other hand.

"Andrea's at Woodbury?" Glenn asked.

"Yeah," I answered, "Saw her myself."

Daryl sighed heavily, "Right next to The Governor."

Deadpool made a move forward, again. "I told you to drop that!" Rick sounded fed up and I was right there with him. Could we move this along so I could get some food and pass out for a day and a half?

"You know Andrea?" Rick asked Deadpool who ignored him. "Do you know Andrea?"

"Yep she does. Her and blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up. Mhhh," he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows. "My Nubian Queen here had two pet walkers. No arms. Cut off the jaw and kept them in chains. Kinda ironic now that I think about it…"

"Shut up bro!" Daryl yelled at him.

"Hey man, we snagged them outta the woods. Andrea was close to dying."

"Is that why she's with him?" Maggie questioned, hoping for the best. She better prepare for the worst. Andrea was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Deadpool obviously knew something was off at Woodbury so chances were good Andrea did too, but she stayed anyway.

"Yeah, snug as two little bugs," Merle answered her question even though she was asking Deadpool.

"Will you please," I hissed at him, rubbing my temples. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"Easy there lil' sister," he joked as Daryl's eyes slide to me. I waved it off as Merle being…well, Merle. "What ya gonna do now Sheriff? Trail by a bunch of liars, thugs and cowards."

"Shut up!" Rick warned, reaching his limit.

"Oh man, look at this, pathetic!" The sound of Merle's voice was driving me nuts. His every word selected for the sole purpose of inciting turmoil. "All these guns and no bullets in them."

"Shut up!" Daryl screamed, well passed his limit.

"Shut up yourself!" The one armed man pushed off the tree he was leaning against. "Bunch of…" Rick hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun and he dropped like dead weight to the ground.

"Thank you," I said, peering down at Merle as I nudged his shoulder with the toe of my boot just to be sure. He didn't stir.

"Asshole," muttered Rick.

Glenn couldn't take anymore, stalking back towards the car without another word, Maggie trailing behind. The four of us looked at each other before leaving the unconscious man and making our way back to the road. My body was on fire, a cold sweat coating my skin as I struggled to walk, stand, breathe, basically exists. Anything and everything hurt as every pain receptor I possessed fired simultaneous making it feel like my body was tearing itself apart. Daryl slung his crossbow onto his back, putting my arm over his shoulder, his other looping around my waists. I abandoned all pretense of being alright. The 200 yard journey feeling more like a marathon. I couldn't stand up for a second longer.

"Let me go," I panted, nodding my head at the car parked on the side of the road. The lines in his forehead deepened, the pain in my voice hurting him as well, but he did as I asked, slowly lower me to the ground as carefully as he could. I sighed in relief once I was off my feet, eyes closed, head resting against the car.

"Tell me," he whispered, squatting down in front of me. I opened my eyes, silently asking him to wait until we got back to the prison. "Please."

I looked over at Deadpool who moved a few feet away to sit on the hood of car giving us as much privacy as she could. Rick walked by, raising his eyebrow to which Daryl held up his hand, asking for a minute. We may be out of Woodbury, but we were far from out of danger. The Governor was no doubt planning a counterattack this very moment. He was strategizing and plotting with his virtual army. Our demise his sole focus. Meanwhile we had an unconscious redneck in the woods that half the people here wanted to kill and an outsider that unbelievably managed to both prove and negate her loyalty all in the same trip.

"It's just a graze," I started, my eyes flicking down to my arm. The wound was covered with a makeshift bandage from one of Daryl's old shirt sleeves. He stiffened and I smiled at him. "It's not bad."

"I can't believe he shot ya."

"Really?" Cause I could.

"Well…" he trailed off and we both shared a laugh, but I groaned in pain as my ribs, chest and back flared in pain. "Red." His massive hand cupped the side of my face and I leaned into his touch with a sigh. He brought his other hand up, softly tracing each bruise and cut, his hand shaking with fury. "How'd ya get these?"

I could lie, spare him the gory details, but Glenn and Maggie were there. The truth would come out eventually and he deserved the truth no matter how much it would kill him to hear it.

"This is The Governor's idea of an audition." A guttural growl resonated deep in his chest, but I plowed ahead, ready to get it out and over with. "He gathered some guys in that ring and…"

"And?"

"He threatened to kill Glenn and Maggie unless I...did my thing." He didn't say anything, well versed in my "thing". The mere thought of it had him shaking in fury.

"How many?" I wasn't sure. I didn't exactly have time to stop and count.

"I don't know," I tried, but it was clear from the look on his face I wasn't getting off that easy. "There were at least 30, but I don't know how many before…" Before I got my ass handed to me.

"What hurts?"

"What doesn't," I joked, but coughed awkwardly when he stared at me with a blank face. "Sorry. Uh, few bruised ribs that are more annoying than anything, mild concussion, two broken fingers, and some cuts and bruises."

Truth was my upper torso was so blue I could pass for a Na'vi from Avatar, my two broken fingers also included three that had been dislocated but reset by me, and my mild concussion made my brain feel like it was boiling in its own juices inside my skull.

"I'm gonna kill that sum bitch."

I snorted, "You can kill him when I'm done with him." His deep blue eyes looked distant and dangerous and it was my turn to cup his face. "Legolas, it's nothing a few days and a couple dozen Percocet's can't fix."

"Daryl!" Rick hollered, the three of them waiting not so patiently for him.

"Go ahead." He clutched my hand, kissing my bloody, red knuckles lightly before standing up. Deadpool cleared her throat, a smirk on her face as she watched our exchange. Daryl shot her a venomous glare, striding towards the others with determined steps. I didn't envy him the task of convincing them to let Merle come back with us. That was an uphill battle if I ever saw one.

"Why aren't you over there?" Deadpool asked, curious.

I let my head fall against the car, closing my eyes as adjusted my body, trying to find a position that didn't make me want to cry. "That's not the fight we should be focusing on right now."

She considered my words for a moment. "So you would take us both back?"

"Do you want to come back?" I countered. She nodded once, her perma-scowl back in place. "That's good enough for me."

"And the redneck?" Her voice was low and dangerous.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." She rolled her eyes at the cliché. "Anybody who's willing to shoot at The Governor and not me is OK in my book at this point. If we survive that I don't care who gets voted off the island."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure your friends see it that way."

Me either. Daryl was pacing back-and-forth, pointing at Glenn who threw his hands in the air, occasionally pointing to Maggie making his position clear. Rick had his hands on his hips and his cop face firmly in place as he tried and failed to mediate the rapidly declining situation. Maggie had her arms crossed and a huge frown on her face that only served to wind Daryl up further as he passionately advocated for his brother. This divide went deeper than Woodbury. It went all the way back to the beginning in Atlanta. That was a lot of history to bury on the side of the road in just a few minutes.

"What will you do if the answer is no?" I asked her. She shrugged like it didn't make a difference one way or the other.

"Same thing I always do." I raised my eyebrow at her as she propped her leg up on the bumper. "Survive."

"That was deep."

"Shut up."

"No really," I insisted, "You should put that on a flyer."

She pressed her lips together to cover her smile and I grinned. It was the start of a beautiful friendship or the end depending on where she ended up. "What about you?"

"I go where he goes." I pointed at Daryl and she nodded.

"Figured." We lapsed into content silence. "He's got a great ass," she mused, almost an afterthought.

"Right," I agreed, shaking my head. "And the arms. I mean, those are just." I put my fingers to my lips and kissed the tips.

"I'm partial to Rick's vibe." Rick had a vibe? I cocked my head to the side, nose scrunched up in distaste as I tried and failed to see the appeal. He was like my brother so just...no.

"I guess." Gag.

"I'm a sucker for curly hair and full beards," she explained, head propped in her hand as she eyed him.

"You've really given this a lot of thought." She shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat Deadpool."

"Looks like their done."

They were and it didn't look good for the home team. I sighed, grabbing the door handle and struggling to get to my feet. My vision blurred once I was up and I braced my hands against my knees, breathing deep as I tried to stem the nausea. My heart was torn. The last thing I wanted to do was leave the group, especially in the face of outright war with The Governor, but Daryl wouldn't leave his brother and I wasn't leaving Daryl. We could fix this. We could make it work. It would just take time to temper some of Merle's more "colorful" personality traits and give the others time to adjust to the thought of him being there. I could only hope we had the time. The Governor could strike at any moment and with Daryl and I both gone their chances diminished drastically. Maybe we could camp near the prison so we would be there to help when things popped off. I heard Merle groaning as he regained consciousness and made my way to the back of the car, opening the trunk and loading supplies into a pack. Daryl rounded the car, anger rolling off him in waves as he stood beside me breathing hard.

"I take it they didn't go for it?" He shook his head briskly, packing his own bag as I stepped back. I let the heavy pack fall to my feet, the weight too much to bear until absolutely necessary. "I think if we track back east we can follow the river. That will keep us close enough to the prison we can be there if The Governor shows up. It's also our best bet for fresh water and food."

He zipped up his pack, putting it on his shoulders before turning to face me with an indecipherable expression that made me incredibly nervous.

"Ya ain't comin'." He spoke so soft I had to strain to hear.

"What?" I had to have misheard him. One, that wasn't his decision to make. Two, fuck that.

"Ya need to go back to the prison," he implored, his face pleading with me. "Hershel needs to look at ya. Yur hurt. Bein' out here could kill ya."

I laughed, ignoring the burn in my ribs. "Be serious." I bent down to pick up the pack, but he stepped forward, stopping me with a firm hand on my wrist. "Daryl, stop." I yanked my hand out of his and he swallowed hard.

"The prison is the best place for ya." It felt like the world was shifting under me. This wasn't happening. He wasn't saying this. I shook my head at him in disbelief.

"No," I corrected, "The best place for me is with you. We stay together. That's what we said remember? You and me," I pointed between the two of us in case the concept was unclear. He said nothing because there was nothing _to_ _say_. I glared at him before tossing the pack on my shoulder and walking passed him towards Merle who was not so patiently waiting in the wings.

"Red!" I didn't turn around as I took painful but determined steps into the woods. Daryl grabbed a hold of my shoulder, twisting me around while simultaneously ripping the pack off my shoulders and tossing it aside. He wrestled me back against the side of the car, his steel grip on both my shoulders pinning me in place.

"What are you doing?" I asked, not giving a flying fuck about the sheer desperation in my voice.

"Ya ain't comin'." I scowled at him.

"You said that already." He exhaled harshly, our stubborn streaks going head-to-head yet again. "I'm coming. This side or the other."

I was practically screaming now and he looked down at the ground, grinding his teeth in frustration. I tried to push passed him, his hands sliding down my arm in an effort to hold me in place and I cried out as he grabbed my gunshot wound. Instantly he released me, running a hand through his hair as his shoulders sagged.

"Dammit Red, look at ya," he waved a hand at my body, irate. "Ya can barely stand up. Won't make it five minutes b'fore ya pass out. I ain't riskin' it." Maybe, but it wasn't going to stop me from going. This was my choice, not his.

"I've had worse." He shook his head at that. "You promised," I added quietly, tears filling my eyes. Something shifted in his eyes, his shoulders hunching as he watched me in silence for a full minute.

"Please don't make me do this," he murmured to himself, bowing his head as if praying. He sounded utterly defeated. What the hell was he talking about?

"I'm not making you do anything. Please, Daryl, you're scaring me."

I didn't care we had an audience watching our exchange. He was slipping through my fingers before my very eyes, and the pain in my chest at the thought was simply unbearable. He took a few seconds and I thought he had finally come to his senses, but when he finally looked at his face was different. Everything about him screamed closed off, cold, ruthless. He stared at me like he was looking through me, not seeing me at all. Gone was the man I loved. In his place was someone I had never met. I tried to brace myself for what came next, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could have prepared me for his next words.

"I don't wantcha to come." I flinched, his statement hitting me like a physical blow, but he showed no sign of caring. "It was fun while it lasted, but my brother's family."

Everything inside of me screamed lie, but as I searched his face and body for any obvious signs of deceit I found none. No. I refused to believe him. It didn't matter I couldn't see the lie. I felt it. Besides, the best liars were the ones who made it impossible to tell fact from fiction, and he was one of the best. You could beat any lie detector with the right mindset, human or machine.

"I don't believe you," I choked out, tears streaking down my face despite my best attempts to hold them back.

His cobalt blue eyes connected with mine and something inside of me withered. They held none of the affection I had grown accustomed to. He looked at me like I was a stranger not someone he held close at night and kissed passionately in the morning. It was the history between us simply ceased to exists.

"Ya ain't family Red," his voice broke slightly, but he swallowed down any hesitation, not done. "Things are different now."

I backed away from him, holding up my hand and turning my head away like it would somehow stop his words from reaching my ears. I curled into myself, a harsh sob escaping my lips.

"No, no," I repeated, stumbling sideways, unable to comprehend his meaning despite the clarity of his words. "You promised." I finally looked at him, but he was focused on something over my shoulder. He was talking to someone, someone was talking to him, but their words failed to register in my jumbled mind. He nodded his chin at me, a slight tremble in his lips he quickly covered by pressing them firmly together. "You promised!" I screamed again as a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind.

"Shhh," Rick whispered softly, trying not to hurt me as I thrashed like a wild animal in his arms. Daryl watched the scene, his face carved in stone, eyes lifeless.

"Take care of her," he ground out, fists clenched at his sides to the point his knuckles were white. I fought Rick's hold, but I wasn't sure why. Daryl feelings were crystal clear, but my traitorous heart didn't seem to care. It was going with him whether I did or not.

"I will," Rick assured him.

Everything was happening too fast. I couldn't keep up. I needed it to slow down, to stop completely, but I was powerless to do a damn thing. Daryl swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on mine as I sobbed in Rick's arms. I begged and pleaded, my words making no sense to my own ears. He looked like he was in physical pain as he inhaled deep, taking one last lingering look at me like he was trying to memorize my face. I spark of hope flared in my chest as a hint of _my Daryl_ peaked through, but then he started to back away slowly and a part of me died.

"Daryl," I cried, "No!" The sounds of the world went silent for a moment, our eyes locked, a single tear I didn't understand trailing down his dirt streaked face. He swiped at it angrily, pivoting on his heel and walking away quickly. I tried to free myself from Rick's hold, but he was too strong and I was too distraught to do anything useful. "Daryl! Please don't do this! Daryl!"

He didn't look back, didn't stop as he reached his brother who looked confused, but slapped his brother on the shoulder with a shrug. They gathered up their meager belongings and walked away. I screamed for him, cried for him, begged for him, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. His resolve never once faltered and that might have hurt more than anything. He kept going until all at once he was just…gone.

The ground crumbled underneath me. I collapsed, Rick's grip on me never lessening as he lowered us to the ground, holding me close, whispering false reassurances that meant nothing to me. Blood pounded in my ears, my breathing coming in fast, ragged pants as I lost my foothold in this world. I was falling, falling so deep and so fast into nothing but complete darkness. I heard a voice I didn't recognize calling out for a man she never really knew. I thought I heard Maggie crying somewhere in the background, but was too far gone to know much less care. Twisting in Rick's arms I grabbed his shirt, pressing my face into his chest as I screamed at the top of my lungs, his arms tightening their hold on me. The agony swirling inside of me erupting like a volcano I could no longer contain. I screamed so long, so hard, so loud my throat felt like it was bleeding when I was finally forced to stop.

This was heartbreak.

Hearing him say those things then watching him walk away I felt the organ in my chest responsible for pumping blood to my extremities actually splinter. I felt each tiny piece of what used to be my heart puncturing my internal organs as a piece of me died on the side of that road. The pain caused by the man I loved more substantial than any physical blow I sustained at the hands of The Governor. Outside the death of my sister I had never felt this fucked up, and just like that situation, I wasn't sure I would ever recover. In less than 10 minutes Daryl managed to do what no one before him had to this point.

He broke me.

* * *

 **Addicted2memories made a really insightful comment that they hated when someone wrote a caring, devoted, loyal Daryl x OC story only to have him walk away after Woodbury without a backwards glance. I thought that made a lot of sense and I took a hard look at this chapter and tried to stay true to the characters and the relationship I had developed (both Alex/Daryl and Daryl/Merle). I couldn't find a way to write this any other way than him leaving with his brother that was believable to who Daryl is at his core, but at the same time Alex is in no state to go with him.**

 **I hope you felt the agony of his decision to hurt her in order to keep her safe, and the heartbreak he couldn't express. This chapter will drive how the next few unravel so I wanted it to be convincing, painful, and utterly gut-wrenching. I want you screaming at him to come back all the while knowing he had to go. I want your heart to break for Alex. If none of that happened I failed something fierce and I'm sorry.**

 **Love to hear your thoughts. You guys are the best!**


	28. Too Late To Apologize

**Too Late To Apologize**

At some point Rick picked me up off the ground, carrying me to the car as he spoke in hushed tones over the top of my head about needing to get out of here. I stopped crying a while ago. More because I didn't have any fluid left in my body than because the hurt had ebbed. If anything it only intensified with each passing minute. My physical wounds hardly registered at this point. It was the emotional damage I couldn't handle. It felt like my heart stepped on a Lego with no shoes on. Sadly, I knew this wasn't something you simply got over. There was no coming back from this. Sure, the sun would rise and set tomorrow, but nothing would ever be the same.

Rick gently sat me in the backseat of the car, taking my face in his hands. His lips moved, but his voice sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher, _'wah, wa, wa, wah'_. I scrunched my face up in confusion, his own softening in understanding and sympathy. If anyone knew how I felt it was him. He gave me a half smile that didn't reach his eyes as he tucked my legs into the car and shut the door. Suddenly Maggie was beside me, clutching my cold hand in her warm one. I hadn't heard her get in, couldn't hear much of anything except an incessant ringing in my ears. She didn't talk and I was glad. I was in no state to hold even the most basic of conversations. She just sat beside me, her hand solid in mine, a silent show of support that kept me grounded. I could practically feel her need to fix this and wanted to laugh. Love it or hate it the Greene family was chalked full of fixers. It was in their DNA. If something was hurt Hershel stitched it up. Whenever you felt incredible sadness you could count on Beth's angelic voice to lift your spirits, if only temporarily. The moment you felt hopelessness bubble in your gut Maggie would appear like an apparition, giving you a reason to believe again. This must be killing her. Unfortunately, unless she had Daryl stashed in her back pocket there _was_ no fixing this one.

Glenn climbed in beside her as Rick got behind the wheel, Deadpool upfront with Glenn's gun inconspicuously pointing at her back. She may have gotten to ride shotgun, but one wrong move would cost her a bullet to the spinal cord. No amount of legroom was worth that risk.

The exhaustion tugging at me was too powerful to ignore. I leaned my head against the window as Rick pulled away, the shapes and colors of the outside world turning into nothing but a blur as I let my eyes close. I don't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew the car was stopped. The huge, gray concrete walls outside the prison making me cringe. I didn't want to be here, back where Daryl and I had lived together, but if I was honest I didn't want to be anywhere. The prison, the road, abandoned houses, it all reminded me of him. Everything in this world was tainted by his presence, and I knew it would haunt me for the rest of my life. The door opened and I looked up at Rick who waited for me to step out of the car on my own. When I didn't move he only merely nodded.

"Glenn, help me," he shouted, grabbing an arm and pulling me out. Glenn rounded the car, throwing my other arm over his shoulder. "Maggie get the door!"

There was a flurry of activity as Maggie raced forward, opening the door and shouting. Deadpool obediently walked beside us, making sure to keep her hands visible and movements deliberate without being told. She genuinely wanted to stay here so I didn't think she would try anything.

The guys helped me up the stairs and into the man cave. There was a flurry of activity as people moved in every direction, calling out instructions, asking questions, and in the background there was a baby crying. Nugget. I forgotten about Nugget. My heart seized at the sound of the wailing infant, a loud reminder the world was still turning despite my desire to step off the ride.

"Hershel!" Rick yelled dragging me into Cellblock C as I moaned in pain. My physical wounds may pale in comparison to my physical one's, but there was no denying I was supremely fucked up.

"What happened?" The veterinarian's question was so absurd I shook my head. I believe the technical term was ass whoopin'. "Lay her down."

Rick and Glenn deposited me on the bottom bunk, a hiss of protest slipping from my lips. I didn't even have the energy to pat myself on the back for not losing my shit at being inside a tiny cell. Here I was conquering my greatest fear and I couldn't find one single, solitary fuck to give.

"I'll check Glenn, you take Alex."

My eyebrow furrowed at the sound of the familiar voice and not for the first time I questioned my sanity. That was was...impossible. I was officially losing my mind. It sounded like Carol, but Carol was dead. I held my breath, turning my head and blinking a few billion times like it would somehow make my swollen eyes function properly. It wasn't working. All I saw was a dead Carol gently wiping the blood from Glenn's face so she could properly assess the damage.

"Oh my god," I gasped, pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes hard.

"Now, now, stop that," Hershel chided, trying to pull my hands away as he sat down on the bed next to me. "Alex, stop."

"No, no, no." I repeated over-and-over. This was a side effect of losing Daryl. Somehow, someway, a screw was loose in my brain. It was grief causing me to see things. That had to be it.

"Calm down," Hershel tried again, finally able to drag my hands away from my face. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes bulging as my body shook. "I see..." I trailed off, unable to put a voice to my insanity.

"You see what?" He looked around the cell, eyes assessing everyone, even dead Carol. When he looked at me again he still looked baffled. Did he not see the dead woman two feet away from him? I grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer so dead Carol wouldn't overhear. Why that mattered I don't know, but it seemed like the polite thing to do.

"I see dead people," I confessed. His bushy eyebrows furrowed.

"Does she have a head injury?"

I grumbled in annoyance. Yes I had a head injury, several actually, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was the ghost in the corner. Focus! I lifted my quivering hand, pointing at dead Carol. He followed my outstretched hand, frowning even harder if that was even possible. I nodded vigorously despite my roaring headache as his head bobbed back-and-forth between dead Carol and me. Yes, dead woman in the corner. He saw her too, right? Was it better or worse that he saw her too? Probably worse. He was responsible for my medical care and if he saw dead people I wasn't sure I wanted him wielding a scalpel anywhere near me. I expected him to gasp, to hobble for his life, something other than laugh.

"Hershel!"

"I'm sorry dear." He wiped tears from his eyes, not looking sorry at all as he patted my hand. "You aren't seeing dead people." Uh, gonna have to disagree. He smirked at my expression. "Carol's alive. She's here."

"How?"

"Daryl found her in the tombs." I flinched at the name, puzzling him further, but he didn't comment on it. "She fought her way into a cell."

Someone grabbed my hand and I turned my head, eyes connecting with a very worried, not dead Carol. I was wrong before. I did have tears left to cry and seeing my dead friend come back to life was enough for the waterworks to start up again with a vengeance. She leaned down, her tears already soaking my shoulder, the two of us embracing awkwardly as she tried to avoid my injuries and I struggled to get my limbs to respond to basic commands.

One gained, another lost. It was like the universe was trying to balance out the scales. I had Carol back, but it cost me Daryl.

She pulled away, brushing the hair from my face. "You're a mess."

I smiled. "You don't look so hot yourself."

"This is a gunshot wound," Hershel exclaimed, undoing Daryl's bandage and examining my arm. And people said medical school was a waste of time and money. He grumbled something I couldn't hear before calling out to Beth to bring him his suture kit. "It'll need a few stiches."

"Oh joy."

"Anything else I should know about?" I gestured to my entire body in lieu of an answer. Take your pick doc.

He set to work with grim determination and I closed my eyes, tuning out the pandemonium happening around me. I heard raised voices, lots of shouting, and I didn't recognize some of the voices. Who was here? Deadpool must not be the only newcomer? If so the irony was not lost on me. A group of strangers in the cellblock, Deadpool patiently waiting outside the cell to be stitched up, this place was a veritable Ellis Island for anyone, except Merle.

Guess some things were just unforgivable.

Hershel worked diligently for what felt like hours, cleaning cuts, disinfecting wounds, slathering ointments and stitching up more than a few injuries that wouldn't heal on their own. The one he could neither see nor fix was the one that hurt the most. My heartbreak festered inside me, the infection spreading like a raging disease. It was hard to imagine the sorrow ever diminishing. I welcomed the feel of the needle sliding into my skin and the familiar burn of pain medication as it raced through my veins. The oblivion it offered was far better than constant suffering. My eyelids felt heavy as I blinked slower and slower, my eyes fixed on the window as Hershel squeezed my hand and told me to rest. Sunlight streamed through the small opening as morning quickly gave way to early afternoon. The sun felt warm on my face, comforting, and I sighed heavily, finally succumbing to the medication.

I woke disoriented, arms and legs flailing as I tried to sit up only to groan and collapse against the lumpy mattress in pain. Ouch. Lying there I took a few measured breaths, assessing my body and our home. My body felt like crap, but the cellblock was silent save for one very unhappy baby. I had no idea how long I was unconscious, but judging by the soft snores in the cellblock and the orange hue in the sky it was early morning. Hershel had outdone himself this time. I "slept" for an entire day. The old man had perfected the art of medicating just shy of an overdose.

Much slower this time around I sat up, swinging my legs to the ground, taking slow steady breaths. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the ache of sore muscles and the pull of my stitches, but all things considered it wasn't too bad. Someone had taken the time to wipe most of the blood and dirt from my body, but I was still wearing the same clothes which stunk and were crusted with blood, some mine, most someone else's. Grabbing the top bunk I pulled myself to my feet, smiling softly when I saw Carol sound asleep.

All at once it came rushing back, hitting me like a wrecking ball. I slumped against the bed, resting my head on the metal frame. Less than a minute, that was all it took for the realization to sink in. He was gone. My mind repeated the three word phrase like the merry-go-round from Hell. My eyes shifted to Carol. By now she had to know he left with his brother. He didn't abandon just me, he abandoned us all. This wasn't going to be difficult only for me and I would do well to remember that.

Another cry filled the cellblock and I gingerly made my way towards the sound. The more I moved the quicker my tight muscle relaxed, but I could easily sleep for a week straight. Too bad we didn't have a week. We probably didn't have a day. Another angry wail made me smile as I used the railing for support as I walked. Stopping outside the cell I watched Beth, hair sticking up in every which direction like she was literally pulling her hair out, rocking and shushing the infant to no avail. Nugget let loose another round of screams that could wake the dead, pun intended.

"Someone's sassy tonight," I commented. Beth turned quickly, her shoulders slouching in relief when she saw me. I wondered how long she'd been in here, alone, trying to soothe the little girl.

"Yeah, I don't know what to do. She's been fed, changed, burped, a couple of times, but she just keeps crying." I would have laughed if the young woman didn't sound so distressed.

"She's a newborn Beth. Sometimes they just cry." She didn't look convinced so I stepped forward, reaching for her. "Let me take her."

"Are you sure you just got back and..."

"I'm fine, go get some rest. You look dead on your feet."

She shot me a grateful smile as she handed me the still crying baby, stretching her back. "I'll just be a few cells down if you need me." When I nodded she started to leave the cell, pausing at the threshold. "I'm really glad your back Alex." I forced a fake smile on my face, reminding myself it wasn't her fault this place made my skin crawl.

"Me too." Nugget shrieked and Beth sprinted out of the cell before she lost the opportunity to run. "Well, hello Little Miss," I said, peering down at Nugget.

She squirmed in my arms, her little face red and scrunched up in displeasure. I laid her down on the bunk, untying her tiny blanket. The second her arms and legs were free she was moving, arms and legs going up, down, left, right, every direction imaginable all at the same time.

I laughed, "You jazzercising?" She squealed and I grinned at her. "Sorry, but I'm gonna have to put you back in lock down."

She frowned as I adjusted the blanket, pinning her arms and legs in the fabric as I swaddled her up tight. When I was done she batted her huge, blue eyes framed by impossibly long, black lashes at me as she tried and failed to free her body parts. Good luck, my swaddling skills were level = expert.

"You look like a little burrito," I chuckled and I swear she rolled her eyes at me. Oh lord, we were in trouble. The Force was strong with this one. "There now. That's better, isn't it?"

I cradled her in the crook of my arm next to my chest as I stood up, swaying slightly. She was still pissed about her jazzercise privileges being revoked, but she couldn't deny the warmth and security the swaddle offered. It was baby kryptonite. She yawned, but continued to fight the Z-monster with gusto. Looking down at her I felt my heart start beating for the first time since he left. There were so many bad things in this world, so many things that could hurt you, but with Nugget all of that was washed away. She made me want to hope, for a better life, a better world...just more. She was a constant reminder of what we were fighting for.

"You know, I lost my mom when I was little too," I told her. She started at me, transfixed by my voice. "I'm gonna be honest, that hole you feel inside when you think of her will never really go away, but you know what?" I cocked my head to the side. "Your dad and big brother love you _so_ _much_ , more than anything. So do the rest of us. I know this world is scary, but you...you and Carl...you're gonna change all that." I sniffled, blinking away tears. "There might not be any good left in this world, but there's more than enough inside your heart, and you can use that to change the world."

She cooed and I nodded like I understood. "I think so too," I said as she smiled at me. "I'll always be here for you Nugget, no matter what. No one will ever replace your mom, but I promise to laugh with you, cry with you, make sure you know that no matter what _you are loved_. I'll be your family. I am, after all, your favorite Aunt. Just don't tell Maggie, it will only make her sad," I joked as she wiggled, settling into my arms. "Most importantly I swear I will keep you safe, with my life in necessary."

More babbling.

"Agreed, enough of the heavy stuff." I swiped at a lone tear trailing down my cheek. "So, what do you want to do? Clearly sleep isn't on the agenda." And...more babbling. I laughed. "OK, I think I got something, but no judging alright? It's been a while since I belted out the tunes."

I started humming, gently rocking her to the beat, her eyes locked on my face.

 _"There was a time...when I was alone. Nowhere to go...and no place to call home. My only friend was the man in the moon and even sometimes he would go away, too. Then one night, as I closed my eyes, I saw a shadow flying high. He came to me with the sweetest smile. Told me he wanted to talk for awhile. He said, 'Peter Pan, that's what they call me. I promise that you'll never be lonely', and ever since that day..."_

Her small mouth opened in a tiny 'o', hypnotized by the song, the melody, the beat. I wasn't going to win a Grammy anytime soon, but her encouragement was enough to keep me going. She may only be a few days old, but I had to admit, the kid had excellent taste.

 _"I am a lost boy from Neverland. Usually hanging out with Peter Pan and when we're bored we play in the woods. Always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy', they say to me. Away from all of reality. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free."_

Her small mouthed opened in a yawn, her eyes getting droopy. I had this in the bag. I continued to hum, rocking her slowly.

 _"He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe, believe in him and believe in me. Together we will fly away in a cloud of green to your beautiful destiny. As we soared above the town that never loved me, I realized I finally had a family. Soon enough we reached Neverland. Peacefully my feet hit the sand and ever since that day. I am a lost boy from Neverland. Usually hanging out with Peter Pan and when we're bored we play in the woods. Always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy," they say to me. Away from all of reality. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free."_

She blinked once more and then her eyes didn't open as she snuggled into my arms. I smiled, continuing to rock her as I sang. If I'd learned anything about babies it was not to put them down until you were absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, positive they were asleep.

 _"Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy, darling even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book. Neverland, I love you so, you are now my home sweet home, forever a lost boy at last. And for always I will say...I am a lost boy from Neverland. Usually hanging out with Peter Pan and when we're bored we play in the woods. Always on the run from Captain Hook. 'Run, run, lost boy,' they say to me. Away from all of reality. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free. Neverland is home to lost boys like me and lost boys like me are free."_

I rocked her for a few more seconds before carefully placing her in the makeshift crib Beth and Carol made. She twitched and I froze, but when she didn't wake up and yell at me I backed away from the crib like I was traversing a mind field. Turning to leave I came face-to-face with Rick who looked shocked. I quickly put a finger to my lips, telling him to keep quiet as I tip-toed out of the cell. He followed behind me as I exited the prison, inhaling the crisp morning air once we were outside. He walked beside me across the concrete yard, hands in his pockets.

"I didn't know you could sing."

I pulled my ponytail tight, uncomfortable with the compliment. "I don't think that counts as singing."

"It was beautiful."

"Uh, thanks," I said awkwardly.

"How did you know that would work?" When I frowned he clarified, "Singing to her. How did you know it would get her to stop crying?"

"Oh, my grandmother used to run a daycare out of the house when I was a kid so there were always babies around. I watched her do that a thousand times. She would sit in this old, squeaky, rocking chair my grandfather made her when they first got married and sing to them for hours. When I was old enough she put me to work. Turned out I could baby whisper too."

He chuckled, "She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was."

We walked in silence, unconsciously pulled to the grave site which was quickly becoming a cemetery, but something was different. I didn't matter how many times I counted the graves and then our people the math didn't add up. Sensing my confusion and steadily rising panic Rick spoke up.

"It's not one of ours. There was a group here...one of them, he didn't make it." The foreign voices from yesterday tickled the back of my mind.

"Where are they?"

"I made them leave," he admitted, head bowed.

I nodded, "You didn't trust them?" I wasn't judging. I wasn't exactly known for my acceptance of others.

"I don't know," he trailed off, sounding as unsure as I'd ever heard him. "Hershel wanted them to stay, so did the others. They said we should give them a chance." Made sense from a logistical standpoint. We weren't exactly an overwhelming force in terms of numbers.

"Sounds like the old man."

He swallowed hard, his face distant. "We could use them now. If I would have just let them stay..."

Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

He had his reasons for kicking them to the curb, sane or not. I doubted very much a handful of people with untested combat skills were going to make much difference when we faced off with The Governor. We stared at the graves, neither of us knowing what to say to the other. The sight of Carol's cross and wilted Cherokee Rose infuriated me. I stepped forward, ripping the wood cross from the ground and tossing it into the distance. I didn't stop there, turning around and kicking the meticulously placed rock circle. Rocks scattered in every directions and I snarled at the few that stubbornly refused to be displaced, kicking them again and again until there was no trace of the shrine. Rick stayed quiet through my tantrum, his sole focus Lori's grave and my stomach bottomed out.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, biting my lip. I felt his eyes on me, but I couldn't face him, not yet. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her. I tried, I swear I did. _I'm so sorry_."

The last part was barely a whisper on the wind, the apology entirely insufficient given his loss. I didn't realize I was crying until he pulled me to him, wrapping his arm around me in a side hug. I rested my head on his shoulder, the two of us holding each other up, and I felt him place a light kiss on the top of my head. It made me feel even worse.

"It's not your fault," he stated. "You did everything you could. You tried." His voice broke and so did my heart. "You saved my son and...my daughter. You've got nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You're my sister and I love you."

We abandoned the side huge in favor of the real thing. I felt his body shaking slightly, but choose not to comment. After a few moments he pulled away, both of us stepping back and averting our faces as we wiped away tears. At this rate I was never going to stop crying and I hated it. I didn't weep. I didn't sob. I didn't cry uncontrollably. I was a badass, ninja-ish, cutthroat, former assassin for fuck's sake.

"I know this is a...tough time." I snorted. Understatement. "But we have a real fight headed our way. I'm going to need you."

I shook my head in agreement. "I'm with you," I declared, "Alamo or bust."

"Alamo or bust," he replied with a slight smirk. I heard T's skeptical voice in my head reminding me the Alamo didn't turn out particularly well for the Texans.

When he didn't immediately turn to leave I knew there was still something on his mind, and the smart money said it had nothing to do with The Governor or his late wife.

"You know Daryl..." Oh hell no. I would sooner let Nugget rupture my eardrums then let this continue.

"Rick please, just...don't."

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled, curly hair. "He didn't want to leave you." I scoffed, not dignifying that stupid comment with a response. "He didn't," he stated with conviction. "Things with his brother are...complicated, and you were in bad shape. He was trying to protect you."

"Touching."

He rolled his eyes at my attitude. "I understand how it feels to have someone you love..."

"I'm going to stop you right there," I interrupted him. "One, you and Lori is nothing like me and that asshole." He gave me a disapproving look I completely ignored. "She was your wife, the mother of your children. Not exactly comparable."

"Alex, love is love," he insisted, but I kept on trucking like he never spoke.

"Two, don't make excuses for his behavior. I don't care _why_ he did it. Bottom line, he's gone. It's done."

I didn't want to hear the _'I had a fucked up childhood so now I suck'_ justification again. My childhood was no cake walk and you didn't see me running around pretending to care about people only to curb stomp their heart first chance I got.

"You love him." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. My cheeks heated and I was glad it was still too dark for him to see. I hated I couldn't control my reaction. "He loves you too."

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him. "Really? This is him loving me? I gotta tell ya, it doesn't live up to the hype."

"I know he's shit at showing it, but...it's Daryl."

"So because he's emotionally stunted he gets a pass?"

He held his hand up, "I'm not saying..."

"Why are you defending him?" I hissed, losing my patience for this conversation. What part of _'I don't want to talk about it_ ' was unclear?

"All I'm saying is he didn't _want_ to leave you. You were injured. You _are_ injured, being on the road, especially with someone like Merle, was the last thing you needed. He didn't have a choice."

The irony of his statement wasn't lost on me. The day I met Daryl I told him choice was all we had left in this world. It was true then and it was true now.

"You're wrong," I said quietly, his eyes on me, "There's always a choice."

Rick swallowed heavily in understanding, blinking away tears in his eyes. He made a choice a year ago to shun his wife when he found out she was pregnant with another man's child. He thought he would have time to fix the relationship after he made peace with his demons. Turned out he was wrong. The woman he loved died believing he hated her.

Daryl made a choice too. The choice to leave me behind. Yes, I was hurt when we left Woodbury. Yes, the prison was the logical option to speed my recovery. Yes, his brother was a dickhead, but we promised each other a long time ago we would always fight side-by-side, that we would do everything in our power to find each other if separated, that it was the two of us...this side or the other. He didn't hold up his end of the deal. That was his choice.

"I'm sorry," Rick muttered.

"You can't apologize for someone else." He shrugged. "Besides, it's too late for apologies."

He nodded, eyes fixed on some spot in the distance. His breathing picked up, body tensing and I scanned the woods trying to identify the threat, but saw nothing.

"Rick," I tried, hand still hovering by my PPQ. He rubbed his hands up and down his face hard then looked back at seemingly nothing, his shoulders sagging in relief I didn't understand.

"I think I'm losing my mind," he admitted.

"How so?" He was shaking now.

"I keep seeing..."

"Lori," I finished for him. He looked at me in surprise, but I kept my face blank.

"I see her everywhere. I hear her voice. Sometimes she calls me and I know that's not possible, that it's not real, but I want...I want..." Reaching out I put my hand on his shoulder.

"You want it to be true." He nodded, crying. "You're not crazy. You're grieving."

"Don't patronize me," he spat angrily, shaking off my hand and pacing in front of the graves.

I kept my voice calm. "I'm not patronizing you." He shot me a cold look, continuing to pace. "Do you remember when I almost let a walker eat me because I was convinced it was my sister? The sister I shot in the head to keep from reanimating?" He paused his restless pacing, but didn't look at me. "I understand what you're going through. I've lived most of my life in the darkness you're standing in now."

I'd shared very little of my life with anyone, but Daryl. The things most people knew about me were surface facts, unimportant details. I kept my cards close to my vest on instinct. An instinct I should have listened to when it came to the man who hurt me. I let my guard down with him and he used the things I revealed to him in confidence against me. He wielded my greatest fears like a weapon on the side of the road. I was hesitant to open up with Rick, but he needed comfort right now more than I needed protection.

"I lost a twin brother I can't even remember. I lost my mother when I was a child to a man who was suppose to be my father." He didn't face me, but his body was stock still as he listened with rapt attention. "My grandparents raised me and they died while I was lost in a fog of war and death. I lost my sister to this plague." My voice cracked. The mere mention of my grandparent's and sister enough to make my knees buckle. "Pain, loss, despair, those are things I understand. I was raised with them."

He choked on a sob, "What do I do?"

Staring into the dark forest I sighed. He was asking for an answer to an impossible question. There was no moving on. There was only acceptance and learning to live with it.

"After my grandparent's died I was a lot like you," I started, choosing to answer his question in a roundabout way. "All my life the only thing I knew was hurt and for once I just wanted the bad to go away."

The sounds of night filled the silence between us.

"I don't know who I am without her," he admitted desperately.

I took a deep breath, shoving my hands deep in my pockets as my eyes flitted around the darkened forest that seemed to go on forever. I didn't have anything to offer him except the truth, and that would do little to ease his pain.

"There's good news and bad news. Bad news is you'll never be the same. You lost your wife and nothing, _nothing_ , is ever going to change that." His body shook as he punished himself with regret. A part of me wanted to stop, but I knew he needed me to keep going. He couldn't be strong right now so I would do it for him. "The good news is once you accept that and let yourself suffer...you'll be able to remember her without the pain you feel now." His legs trembled before giving out as he fell to his knees in front of his wife's grave, hands digging into the fresh mound of dirt in front of her cross. "It'll hurt, but it's worth it to be able to remember her love, for you, for Carl, your life together."

"How?" he sobbed, his chin on his chest.

How indeed. Was there just one way to begin again? Probably not. I wasn't sure my advice was right or even helpful, but it was my truth. The one thing I knew for certain about pain was there were no shortcuts.

"You can't avoid the pain. There's no way to do that without robbing yourself of every memory of her. Every-Single-One."

"What if I don't want those memories?"

"It's the only way you can keep her with you," I answered, "There was more good than bad. The end of a story doesn't represent the sum of its parts." My throat was dry as a bone as all the gut-wrenching memories from that day swirled inside of me like a hurricane. "She loved you with her dying breath."

He sobbed and I fell to my knees beside him, arms going around his massive shoulders, holding him much like he had done for me just twenty four hours ago.

"I can't do both," he admitted after a few seconds. "I can't deal with this and be who they need me to be." I couldn't argue with that.

"So don't. Take all the time you need. I got this. When you're ready, you know where we are."

I gave him a half-smile, standing up and walking back to the cellblock. He didn't follow, and given his current mental state that was probably for the best. If the group saw him now they would only freak out more and that was the last thing we needed. I knew it wasn't right, but there was a part of me that was glad. I needed something, _anything_ , to distract me from Daryl's absence and filling Rick's shoes would do just fine. If I let myself think about him I was likely to end up standing right next to Rick chasing ghosts.

The door to the man cave slammed shut behind me, the group gathered there collectively turning as one. Glenn and Carl were kneeling on the ground next to a chalk drawing. Carol was sitting on a table looking terrified. Beth was pale as a ghost rocking a sleeping Nugget in the corner. Hershel and Maggie were standing near the cellblock entrance, anxiety pouring off them so heavily I wondered how they managed to stay upright. Deadpool was the only one who didn't look scared shitless, but something told me she wasn't capable of such a petty human emotion. So far I'd only seen her scowling or snarling, there was no in-between. The woman's resting bitch face was on point. I kept my steps light and face relaxed as I walked down the steps, nodding my chin as I passed the newcomer.

"What's up Deadpool?" She propped her foot up against the wall, refusing to acknowledge the nickname as I made my way to Glenn and Carl. Their chalk drawing looked to be a crude representation of the prison. That or Nugget was getting a head start on art lessons. "Where'd you guys find sidewalk chalk?"

Glenn stood up, eyeing me carefully before hugging me gently. "You good?"

I hugged him back, "Gotta be." I ignored the way Carol's eyes dropped to the floor at the use of Daryl's catch phrase.

"You seen Rick?" Hershel asked already knowing the answer.

"Outside."

The old man pursed his lips. "Any chance I can convince you to take it easy?"

"Define easy."

"That's what I thought," he huffed. "We were just going over the gaps in our defenses. It's how the other groups got in. Won't make it hard for The Governor's men."

"Are we sure he'll come?" Beth asked nervously. "Maybe we scared him off."

I shook my head, "He's coming. The man is a delusional, sociopath with an utter lack of mercy." By the look of the drawing we had more gaps than actual defenses. "We shattered the carefully constructed fairy tale he created at Woodbury and he'll be out for blood as retribution."

"But..."

Deadpool cut Beth off, "He had fish tanks full of heads, walkers and humans. She's right, he's coming."

That was just...disturbing.

"We should hit them now," Glenn suggested. "He won't be expecting it. We can sneak back in and put a bullet in his head." He stood up and walked to Deadpool. "You know where his apartment is, you and I could end this tonight."

"Glenn wait," I interjected, but he rounded on me, eyes blazing.

"I can do it!"

I put my hands up, walking towards him slowly. "Yeah, you can, but you aren't going to." He opened his mouth to protest but I kept going. "I need you here, to protect the group, to protect Maggie. Deadpool and I will handle The Governor."

Glenn's eyes were wide as he looked at me then Deadpool. She kept her signature scowl firmly in place, but nodded slightly.

"He didn't know you were coming last time and look what happened. You were almost killed, Daryl was captured, and the three of you were almost executed." Thanks for the buzz kill Hershel. I agreed, not our finest hour, but at least there was nowhere to go but up.

"Which is exactly why he won't be expecting us to come back for more," I told him. "He'll expect us to hunker down behind our concrete walls and wait for him to come to us."

This was a bad plan, but if someone didn't go then Glenn would go and end up dead. I refused to let that happen.

"Rick will never allow this." I walked up to Hershel, putting my hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently.

"He left me in charge for now." I didn't think it possible before, but his face got even paler. Was the idea of me in charge _that_ _scary_?

"Alex please, think this through clearly, all the way to the end. You're hurt, Daryl..." My warning glare stopped him short and he changed tactics. "T-Dog lost his life here, Lori too. It isn't worth more killing."

"I know who's buried outside," I snapped. I didn't need a reminder of what we'd lost. "And you're wrong, the killings not done." It never would be. Sadly, killing was humanity's greatest legacy. Nothing was going to change that.

"Well what are we waiting for then? If he's really on his way we should be out of here by now."

I bit my lip, shaking my head. "We're in no position to move, not quickly anyway. We have an infant and you're on crutches. Those are game changers."

"We can't stay here," he insisted.

"There's no way to run now."

The second Nugget cried on the road we were all dead. The first herd to blow through our ranks would be the end of Hershel. Running simply wasn't practical anymore. Everyone else was quiet as I glanced around the room. It felt like a lifetime ago I was in the role of a leader, but it came back like riding a bike.

"Carl and Glenn, take a look at the breaches and see if you can find a way to close them off. At the very least try to funnel them all into one centralized location." The duo nodded in understanding. "Everyone carries their weapons at all times. No exceptions. Carol, set up a rotation for the guard tower with our best shooters. Someone is up there with a rifle at all times, understood?" She nodded. "Beth, Axel, you two get the cars loaded with contingency supplies and make sure they keys are in the ignition. Figure out who will be in what vehicle then make sure everyone knows their assigned escape route. If we're forced to run confusion or panic could get someone killed. Maggie and Hershel I need to know where we stand on medical supplies."

Seven sets of eyes stared back at me and every single set looked terrified beyond measure. They weren't like me. Their nerves didn't settle as the danger increased. The prospect of war didn't send their mind into overdrive, calculating moves and countermoves. They weren't constantly weighing acceptable versus unacceptable loss. They were normal. They'd never been in a situation like this and they were scared. We were out-manned, out-gunned, and all things considered stood a minimal chance of success so their fear were justified, but it wouldn't do. They needed to set those inhibitions aside and tap into the strength I knew was locked inside each of them.

I took a long, hard look at each and every one of them. They were my family and now they were my responsibility. They weren't warriors, but they would need to be if we had any chance of surviving this. Somehow I needed to conjure up a boatload of confidence and inject it into them with words alone. It would have to be something big. Something to help them forget their panic, the fact their leader was outside on the verge of a breakdown, that one of our strongest fighters had abandoned us on the eve of battle and that a mad man was hell bent on killing us all. They had to believe we were capable of winning despite all that.

No pressure or anything.

"You're scared. I can see it on your faces." I licked my lips, rolling my shoulders as I stood up straight, curling my hands into fists to conceal the shaking. "But I see something else too, something you don't see in yourselves. There's a storm inside you. A drive, an unrelenting desire to push yourselves further than _they_ could ever imagine." I circled the room slowly, eyeing my family, willing them to believe the unbelievable. "They pushed us into a corner, but we've been in that corner before. They have no idea what we've been through. While they've lived sheltered behind their high walls pretending the world never ended we thrived on the outside where the bad things live. They have no idea who we are. They have no idea what we're capable of!"

"Yeah!" Glenn roared, Maggie nodding with him, their faces changing from timid to confident in an instant. I swallowed down a mouthful of dread. I wanted them to believe me and they did. Hopefully it didn't end up getting us all killed.

"Are you afraid?" I asked Beth who jerkily nodded yes. "That's normal," I assured the embarrassed young woman. "Anyone who isn't is already dead. Fear can keep you alive as long as you control it and not the other way around." I walked closer to Carol. "What about you?"

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"Don't let it consume," I implored, "Don't bottle it up! Unleash it!" She picked up a weapon, nodding her head as the group rallied behind me with a chorus of cheers and shouts. I had them where I wanted them now I just had to bring it home. I swallowed down a mouthful of guilt, hoping beyond measure I didn't live to regret this. "My commanding officer use to say that one Soldier with a weapon and nothing left to lose can take the day." I paused, a series of heads nodding with each word. "They have _no idea_ we're coming. They have _no reason_ to expect us." I pointed to Deadpool and myself. "If we can make it inside the compound we'll take the next chance." Carl nodded. "And the next." Hershel nodded. "On and on until we win...or the chances are spent. The Governor is in there. Deadpool and I will find him. We'll find a way to find him. If they follow us back you know what to do. Once they get within range you light this place up and make ten men feel like a hundred!"

I was breathing hard by the time I was done, but my monologue did the trick. There was a resounding cheer, fists raised in the air, high-fives shared among the group who only moments ago was ready to run despite the death sentence. The only one not moved by my blatant plagiarism was Nugget who remained blissfully unaware of danger as she slept in Beth's arms. Tough nut to crack that one. I made my way over to Deadpool, sincerely hoping we could pull a rabbit out of our hat and kill The Governor before this war ever started. It was a long shot, but it was the only way to avoid an all-out bloodbath.

"Was that from Star Wars?" Deadpool whispered, leaning over slightly, careful not to let anyone overhear. I nodded, looking around the room as everyone moved with purpose.

"You think it was too much? It felt like too much."

She shrugged noncommittally. "It was a little over the top." I shook my head in agreement. "Good thing none of them watched a lot of movies before the end of the world."

"No shit," I laughed.

"Michonne." She held her hand out to me and I reached over, shaking it.

"Alex."

"So now that you know my name are you going to stop with the Deadpool shit?"

I scoffed, "No way." She sighed, but wasn't surprised at my denial.

"You think this will work?"

"Probably not." She didn't say anything, but I could tell she agreed. We already snuck in once. The chance of doing it twice in two days was slim. "You don't have to go. Just tell me where his apartment is and I'll do the rest."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "That easy?" I held my hands up, raising an eyebrow. Basically. I didn't even need that much, but we were in a bit of a time crunch and I wasn't exactly running at 100%. "I'm going. If anyone's going to kill that bastard it's me."

"Rock-paper-scissors for it?"

She nodded, but I saw the calculation in her steely eyes. If we somehow managed to not die doing this it was going to be a race to see who could kill that douche first. I walked away, heading into the cellblock, but she called out to me.

"After everything that happened with..."

I pinned her with a warning look. "Pump the brakes right now."

"I was going to say injuries," she clarified and I glared at her. Liar. "Just wanna make sure you're up for it."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you shot also?"

She stiffened slightly. "Flesh wound." Last time I checked flesh wounds didn't require 12 stitches, but sure.

"Same," I said, gesturing to the bandage on my arm. She smirked at me and I turned, hollering over my shoulder, "Meet you outside by the bus in a few."

Walking up the stairs to the perch I faltered when I saw the two mattresses lying side-by-side. Everything was exactly where we left it days ago, a pair of socks on his side of the bed, a discarded arrow with a slight crack in the shaft and an empty water bottle on mine. Our pillows were overlapped, a testament to how close we slept. The single blanket hardly enough for one person much less two, but I didn't need a blanket when I had Daryl. I couldn't remember the last time I woke without his arms wrapped securely around me, his body heat warming to my core.

My pulse hammered in my veins as tried to slow down my breathing, but it was no use. I wasn't standing on the perch. I wasn't even in the prison. I was back on that road, watching him walk away, hearing my desperate pleas he ignored. I grabbed onto the railing as my balance failed me. I closed my eyes, trying to force the memories away, but they held me in an iron grip I was powerless to shake. I was in hell with no way out.

"Alex?" Carol stepped up beside me as I opened my eyes, blinking away tears. She grimaced, giving me a slight nod. She knew what I needed, what I couldn't do and she continued on to what had once been _our_ _bed_ , grabbing my pack, a set of clothes and various weapons. "Come on."

She led me to the bathroom in silence, and I found comfort in her presence. In my opinion Carol's greatest strength was her even keeled personality. Her highs were never too high and by contrast her lows never too low. Her life's motto should be, slow and steady as she goes. She was analytical to the point of detachment, but somehow still managed to open her heart to others. It was a dichotomy I didn't understand and could never hope to replicate.

In the bathroom she set everything on a nearby bench before depositing me in a shower that was ice cold. Despite the frigid temperatures it felt like heaven even as the water cascading over my numerous cuts, stitches and wounds. I watched the red tinged water swirl around the drain before disappearing wishing my emotional hurt could be erased as easily.

"Here."

A hand popped into the shower holding some of Maggie's girly shampoo I reluctantly accepted. How was I suppose to storm a compound and assassinate someone smelling like sun-ripped raspberries? My badass status was already in serious jeopardy with all the crying I'd done as of late. This was bound to finish me off for good.

Next she handed me a razor and shaving cream. This was dumber than hair that smelled obnoxiously like fruit. Did I really need to trim the cabbage field when I'd probably be dead within the hour? I stuck my head out, ready to plead my case, but one look at Carol and I simply nodded and set to work. I added un-fucking-flexible to Carol's list of attributes.

It took over 20 minutes and two razors, but when I finally stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel, I had to admit I felt better. Carol was still in the bathroom, sitting on a bench bolted to the wall next to my clean clothes. She didn't say anything as I got dressed or put my boots on. She stayed quiet when I warily picked up Maggie's brush and made my way to one of the mirrors, cringing at the sheer amount of knots woven into my long hair. After several minutes of me cursing my hair and Maggie's brush she finally decided to break the silence.

"Back in Atlanta when I first met Daryl I never imagined the two of having a civil conversation much less being friends." My hand stilled as my eyes flicked to her in the mirror. She wasn't looking at me, her eyes glued to the floor. "We've all changed since then, but him most of all."

I put the brush down, rubbing my sore scalp. Crossing my fingers and hoping for the best was my natural hair care routine. Carol stood and guiding me to the bench where she sat me down without a word and began French braiding my hair. I didn't stop her because once the woman set her mind to something there was no stopping her. Besides, I already smelled like I collided with a fruit truck, why not top it off with an updo?

"When he's around his brother he's a different person," she continued, her hands deftly weaving my red locks back-and-forth with grace I could never hope to possess. "Merle has a...power over him. He doesn't talk about it much but before all this he just followed his brother around. He had no direction, no purpose. Being around his brother takes him back to that time in his life despite the progress he made after they were separated. He makes Daryl feel indebted to him."

I'd heard all this before and back at Woodbury I saw it with my own eyes, but it didn't change anything. I wasn't sure Carol was even saying this for my benefit as she looked neither discouraged nor surprised at my lack of response. It was like talking about him was therapeutic for her.

"He reminded me of a lost child. I wasn't sure he would ever change. It always felt like something was holding him back, keeping him from becoming the man he was meant to be. I knew all he needed was a nudge in the right direction, but nothing we did seem to work." Despite my best effort I was hanging on every word. "That all changed the day you came bursting out of the woods like a tornado. You were a force to be reckoned with," she laughed to herself, "He never stood a chance."

"Carol..." She kept right on talking as if I wasn't even in the bathroom.

"Rick told me what happened." She finished my hair, twisting the long end of the braid that ended just past my shoulder blades up and securing it with a hair tie at the nape of my neck. "I'm not saying it was right, but I understand why he did it." When I glared at her over my shoulder she added, "To an extent."

She sat down beside me, giving my leg a very motherly pat. "He did what he did because he loves you." I groaned, my head falling into my hands. If one more person said that The Governor would be the least of our problems. "He'll find his way back to us." Good for him. He better steer clear of me when he did. "When he does will you do something for me?"

"Depends," I answered, not ready to cut her a blank check.

"Find a way to forgive him." I laughed. There was a better chance of Hershel re-growing his missing limb. "I'm not saying don't make him work for it. Lord knows that man could stand to be taken down a notch or two, but what you two have is special."

"So special he bailed first chance he got," I grumbled.

She smiled, "Yes, he's made a mistakes and he should atone for those mistakes." I rolled my eyes. "But like or not, believe it or not, he _does_ love you. That isn't something to take lightly." I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard. "Regardless of what you decide you should know...he will love you for the rest of his life."

I didn't say anything because there was nothing to say. She stood and I copied her, grabbing my pack and swinging it on my shoulders as we left the bathroom and made our way outside. Deadpool was already at the bus, prowling around restlessly like a tiger and I shoved all thoughts of Daryl out of my head. Totally focused, firing on all cylinders and with a health dose of luck I put our chance of success somewhere around 50/50. Distracted, conflicted and limping noticeably our odds plummeted somewhere in the realm of _'not fucking good'_. She raised her hands at me, tapping the non-existent watch on her wrist and I held up my hand asking for a few more seconds.

"You clean up real nice Alex," Axel commented with a smile, standing next to Carol in the middle of the yard.

I squirmed, "Thanks...I think."

Carol chuckle as she and Axel starting chatting, but my attention was drawn to the woods, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. We were being watched. I didn't see anyone, but I trusted my gut. Alarm bells blared in my head as I frantically scanned our surroundings for danger and then I saw it, the flash of a rifle scope reflecting off the sun.

"Get down!" I screamed, grabbing Carol and pulling her to the ground just as a gunshot shattered the afternoon silence, blasting a hole in the center of Axel's head. Carol gasped as we hit the ground and my heart seized when I saw her face covered in blood. I scrambled closer on my hands and knees, looking her over quickly, but saw no injury. It wasn't her blood.

"Find some cover!" I yelled to Beth who grabbed Carl's shirt, pulling him behind the bleachers. I reached over Carol, propping up Axel's body, using it as a shield. I pushed her closer to the dead man, following her as automatic gunfire light up the yard, bullets ricocheting off the concrete only inches from me. Carol screamed as a shot slammed into Axel, propelling the body into her, but I put my hand over her head, "Stay down!"

From the trajectory of the shots there was a group of shooters concealed in the woods directly in front of us, and at least one in a guard tower t our left. Right now we were shielded, barely, but if the one inside our perimeter continue to skirt the metal walkway surrounding the guard tower he'd have a clear shot at both Carol and I.

Grabbing my PPQ from my holster I counted his shots, waiting for the distinctive click that signaled an empty magazine. As soon as I heard it I popped up, aiming straight at the guard tower. The group sheltered in the woods opened fire now that I was out in the open and I swear I felt the breeze as the bullets whizzed past my head too fast for the eye to see.

I didn't move.

This was our only chance to take out the one in the guard tower. Once he killed the two of us he would turn his sights on Beth and Carol, and I couldn't let that happen. I squinted as a head peeked from around the corner, aiming at the incredibly small target and squeezing the trigger. The man's head snapped back violently as his arms fell limp at his side, his body tumbling over the railing.

I was on my feet before his dead body hit the ground, hauling Carol up. I pushed her in front of me, running towards a nearby building as Deadpool and Carl covered us. Just as we rounded the corner to relative safety a bullet grazed my side, tearing at flesh as the hot lead burned a trail against my side. I hissed in pain, switching places with Carol as I peered around the wall. There were at least four men firing from the edge of the woods, one of them The Governor. Guess we weren't the only one thinking surprise attack was the way to go. On the plus side at least I didn't need to hunt him down.

"Oh my god, you're hit," Carol cried. I glanced down at my left side, pressing my right hand against it briefly as I probed the wound, my hands coming away red. It wasn't deep, the bullet slicing through the soft flesh under my ribcage, but it hurt like a son of a bitch. I was getting really tired of being shot.

"I'm fine. Stay back."

I knelt down, wishing I had more than a handgun at the moment, but making due. For the most part The Governor's men were standing out in the open and I took aim at the most exposed one, his bright orange shirt making him an easy target. I fired and a millisecond later he was down as I ducked behind the corner as a hail of bullets slammed into the side of the wall. Beth and Carl skidding to a stop against the wall and I quickly checked them over.

"You good?" I asked him.

"Gotta be."

I grinned and he smiled back. I heard Deadpool firing from behind the bus. The Governor, who was sporting his dorky sweater vest, didn't even flinch as bullets hit the ground all around him, kicking up dust and debris. Instead he snarled, tucking a rifle firmly into his shoulder and firing about 20 rounds back at her. No love lost between those two. The gunfire ceased and I looked behind me at Carol, Beth and Carl. Clearly the 'everyone has a weapon at all times' rule hadn't gone into effect yet as Carl was the only one armed.

"Take this." I shoved my PPQ into Carol's shaking hands. "Shoot anyone who isn't us."

"Where are you going?"

I didn't answer as I sprinted towards the overturned bus. The gunfire resumed with a gusto as The Governor's men tried to pick me off, but thankfully they had the accuracy of Storm Troopers. I slide to a stop behind the bus, panting hard as Deadpool gaped at me.

"Are you crazy?!"

"You're welcome," I answered, moving closer to her, "Gimme that and move over there."

She handed over the M4 without question and I ejected the magazine, checking to see how many rounds we were left before slamming it back in and chambering a round. The automatic gunfire had started up again, but it was The Governor shooting into the air.

"Why would he..." I stopped mid-sentence, his sadistic plan clicking into place as my stomach plummeted. He didn't need to shoot us to kill us. He could simply surround the place with walkers and let them do the job for him. I pointed towards the opposite end of the bus, "Wave your sword around and see if you can draw their fire."

"Wave my sword around? You really think their stupid enough to fall for that?" I shrugged. Yeah, I kinda did. She sighed, but did it.

She stopped at the edge of the bus, pulling her sword. I took a knee, slowly easing my way as far out from behind the safety of the bus as I could without risking a bullet to the cranium. She took a deep breath before waving the sword around. She went above and beyond the call of duty when she poked her head out. Thankfully The Governor and his men were, in fact, stupid, unloading what sounded like 1,000 rounds in Deadpool's general direction.

She easily scampered back to safety, and with their attention on her I took aim at the man standing in the bed of a truck. His big ass head was blocking my shot at The Governor so I put it directly in my crosshairs and took the shot. His dead body crumpled almost instantly, The Governor's eyes bulging as he looked around trying to locate the source of the shot. As quickly as I could I put his head dead center in my sight, but just as I pulled the trigger another man grabbed his sweater vest, yanking him to the side. My shot clipped his shoulder as he roared in outrage.

"Shit," I exclaimed, diving back behind the bus as the gunfire was redirected to my position.

"Did you get him?"

I shook my head no and she scowled. Yeah, pretty much. The sound of rifles shooting from the prison made me smile. Maggie must have made her way outside with every gun she could carry and now with everyone armed we were giving as good as we got. That was until a strange rumble sounded in the distance. Deadpool and I frowned, the sound getting louder and louder as something headed down the road straight for us. After a few moments an orange and white bread truck appeared.

What in the actual fuck?

It slammed into the outer gate without slowing down, Deadpool and I diving in the opposite direction to avoid being hit by the out-of-control vehicle. I raised my weapon, aiming at the truck as it turned a circle in the middle of the yard then stopped. We froze, eyes glued to the truck, unsure what to expect. All of a sudden the metal gate on the back was pushed open, bouncing against the ground with a loud clatter. I heard a series of moans and snarls sounded from the back of the rickety old bread truck and I knew we were screwed. When walkers started pouring out of the back I let the rifle drop, horrified. They just kept coming and coming, filing into the yard behind our defenses.

A person clad head to toe in armor and a helmet jumped out from the truck, firing haphazardly at Deadpool. I pushed her to the side, sinking to my knee as a bullet slammed into the undercarriage of the bus where my head had just been. I fired, hitting him in the neck, his hands instantly clutching the fatal wound. Blood seeped between his fingers as his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground. He would be dead in seconds. The Governor's men resumed their assault and we were faced with a choice. Kill the walkers or kill the living. The growls of the dead drew my attention and I squeezed off three rounds, taking them down instantly, but there were dozens more to take their place.

I ground my teeth together when I saw Hershel's head of white hair pop up from where he was lying concealed in the tall grass about 100 yards away. I shot at the walkers closest to him, picking them off one-by-one and clearing a path for the old man to slowly make hobble back towards the prison. There was no shortage of walkers, but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for ammo. When I fired my last round I tossed the weapon to the ground, drawing two knives.

"You ready Deadpool?" She nodded, swinging her sword around as I cracked my neck, twirling a knife in my hand. "Let's get this over with."

With that I took off towards Hershel, The Governor's vehicles turning around and peeling away from the prison. Their job here was done. If by some miracle we were able to kill the walkers inside our fences the gaping hole left by the bread truck and the noise of the gunfire meant we now had a systemic problem.

I didn't bother with finesse as I slashed and cut at the walkers in my path, blazing a trail towards the prone old man. I cut my way through their mass with well-placed strikes to their head, not wasting a second once one was dead before finding a new target. The group in the courtyard fired into the herd, watching our backs and taking out any walkers able to sneak past our defenses.

Deadpool was off to my left, slicing and dicing her way through the walker's one decapitated head at a time. I fought my way forward leaving a trail of bodies in my wake, but my steps faltered. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Rick, outside the fence, walkers converging on him from every direction and instantly I changed directions. A walker grabbed a hold of him, pushing him up against the fence and my heart lodged in my throat.

"Rick!" I screamed, sprinting towards him. Two walkers stepped in my path and I threw one knife, then another, jumping over their dead bodies as I pushed my body faster. I watched in horror as another walker reached for him, then another and another.

I was too far away.

I wasn't going to make it.

Out of nowhere an arrow pierced the skull of the walker about to take a bite out of his neck and I stumbled, following the flight path back to the owner. My hands were shaking so bad I had a hard time holding onto my knives as I watched Daryl and Merle emerged from the woods with a hail of arrows. The older brother charged forward with a war cry, plunging a rusty, metal pole into a walker pinning Rick against the fence.

Hershel clumsily climbed to his feet, hobbling to relative safety with his crutches. The stench of death hit me, snapping me out of my trance just as a walker reached for me. Fury ignited inside of me, raging like an uncontrollable inferno as I slammed my knife into the walkers rotted skull. Glenn came tearing into the field in a truck, first picking up Deadpool then making a beeline for Hershel. They drug him to the truck, his foot barely touching the ground as they shoved him inside.

"Alex, let's go!" Glenn screamed.

I plunged my knife into the walker I was holding by the throat and then took off at a sprint towards the truck. He didn't stop as I ran behind the vehicle, grabbing onto the tailgate and hauling my body into the bed. When we made it behind our last intact fence I climbed out slowly. We all gathered at the fence, our last remaining line of defense, taking in the devastation. Carol handed me my PPQ, tears rolling down her face. There were walkers everywhere, some inside fence with more pouring out of the woods at a steady pace we would never be able to withstand with the main gate destroyed. Just like that, in an instant, our illusion of safety was gone.

Rick, Daryl and Merle slowly traversed the minefield of walkers in the yard. Carefully maneuvering around the herd where they could and using their knives when they couldn't. The group helped clear the rest of their path with a few well-placed headshots. I didn't move, too stunned at his sudden appearance to trust myself with a firearm. I'd just as soon shoot him as a walker at the moment so I made a point to keep my eyes off him, but I felt every step he took like a physical sensation.

When the three of them were close enough Carl opened the gate and let them in. Most people were ecstatic to see Daryl, but the same could not be said for his plus one. I was in the minority on that one. Daryl would have his hands full trying to keep his brother out of trouble and no one would give a rat's ass about our drama with Captain Hook bunking with us. It was a small reprieve, but one I'd take willingly because I had no other options.

The controversial one handed redneck sauntered into the yard like he was the Queen of England, all smiles and waves, but it was the other redneck that held me immobile. His eyes scanned the group, constantly moving from face to face with nothing but a slight nod or a curt smile until they landed on me. He halted abruptly and I felt a jolt of electricity surge through my body. If I didn't know better I would say he looked nervous, but I did. I stared at him in morbid curiosity. He was the last person I expected to see today, to deal with and yet here he was less than 20 feet away.

For a moment it felt like we might spend the rest of our lives staring at each other, but then he took a step forward and I frowned. He couldn't possibly think coming anywhere near me was a good idea, right? But he was and it made no sense. I watched his muddy boots take step after step, my head tilting further and further to the side each time. He no longer looked nervous. He looked determined and I was shocked beyond words at his brazenness.

It took a full minute for my brain to reboot, but I finally got over my initial disbelief. Pivoting on on my heel without a word I headed for the cellblock. I didn't want to do this with an audience and we had one hell of an audience at the moment. Shit, I didn't want to do it ever, but predictably Daryl cared little about what anyone else wanted. I heard his feet crunching on gravel behind me as he closed the distance between us with only a few large strides. I told myself to stay calm, keep it together, don't lose all your shit, but when his familiar, calloused hand touched my arm the precarious grasp I had on my temper shattered into a billion pieces. Spinning around I struck like a cobra, my fist connecting slamming into his jaw with as much power as I could put behind it. The left hook sent him sprawling to the ground like a fat kid on a seesaw.

"Don't – Touch – Me!" I screamed, pointing at him, but hardly seeing him through my anger.

I winced as the adrenaline faded slightly, pressing a hand against my newest gunshot wound that pulsed under my touch. Daryl was smart enough or stunned enough to stay down, rubbing his jaw, a bruise already blooming beneath his day old stubble. His eyes flicked to my blood soaked tank top and his face went hard, but I ignored him. He didn't get to pretend to care now.

"Oh damn Darlina!" Merle cackled from a few feet away, his head tipped back in voracious laughter, "Got yurself a feisty one that's for sure!"

My raised my head slowly, purposefully, cocking an eyebrow at him. He grinned, rocking back on his heels, giving me a finger wave like we were old friends before cracking up as he watched his brother wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. I smiled back at him, all teeth, and his jovial mood went flat instantly. Before he could even blink I drew my PPQ and fired a single round. He cried out in pain as he crumpled to the ground clutching his arm.

"Now we're even."

* * *

 **The response to the last chapter was simply amazing. I am so grateful for all the thoughtful, detailed reviews and the fact that many of you stated you felt Alex's pain was phenomenal. Not that I want you guys crying, but as I was writing it I was hoping for that kind of response. To hear from so many of you how much it moved you is what keeps me going so thank you all so very much. ** ** ** **As far as this chapter goes, I know some people don't like angst-y stuff, but I couldn't in good conscience let Alex and Daryl's reunion be roses and sunshine right off the bat. Hopefully everyone understands her reaction and realizes it isn't just angst for the sake of angst. It just isn't realistic, for either character, to forgive and forget just like that.**********

 **Besides, they do have bigger fish to fry...am I right? The next few chapters will take us through the heart of the conflict with The Governor and I hope to strike a good balance between that storyline and Alex and Daryl's relationship (or non-relationship).**

 ** **What do you guys think of the aftermath and his subsequent return?****

 ** **FYI, I absolutely love writing Merle (what a character), and shooting him was the highlight of this chapter for me. Been waiting two chapters for that one. LOL!****

 **If you want to hear how I imagine Alex singing the song to Nugget check out Ruth B's - Lost Boy.**


	29. Not Ready To Make Nice

**Not Ready To Make Nice**

"We're not leaving." Rick's tone left no room for argument, but Hershel didn't notice his tone or he simply didn't care. Probably the latter if I knew the old man.

"We can't stay here," he insisted.

The group had been arguing in an endless circle for what felt like days, but was only half an hour and we were still no closer to a consensus. I was leaning against the wall near Maggie trying my best to look casual and not like I was on the verge of collapse. If it wasn't for the wall I was leaning on for support I would have been face down on the floor a long time ago. Hershel offered to take a look at the newest bullet hole in my body when we first got back to the cellblock, but the wound wasn't fatal and could wait until our family feud session concluded. Although, at the rate we were going it was more likely I'd die from blood loss before this ended. I had nothing helpful to add so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes glued to the tips of my boots. Daryl was directly above me on the catwalk and while I had yet to look at him I could feel his eyes on me like a spotlight.

"If Rick says we're not running, we're not running," Glenn stated, hands on his hips.

"No, better to live like rats."

My eyes strayed from the ground to Merle who was locked outside the cellblock in the man cave. The sight of the gunshot wound in his shoulder made me smile. His eyes flicked down to the injury before he growled low in his throat, scowling at me. When I winked at him he shook his head.

My grandmother always said my need for vengeance was my least favorable personality trait. She was a devoutly religious woman so when my response had been " _an eye for an eye"_ she promptly responded with " _ends up making the whole world blind"_. I was by no means familiar with the "good book", but I was pretty sure that wasn't part of the original scripture. My grandmother did Bible remixes better than a DJ at a night club.

While the group was happy Daryl was back, Merle was a different subject. The argument to kick him out of the prison was more heated than the debate to run or fight The Governor. Personally, I'd take the older hillbilly over the younger in a heartbeat. At least he had a sense of humor.

"You got a better idea?" Rick asked him.

He appeared genuinely curious about his perspective. No one had more experience with The Governor than Merle. It would be stupid not to use that to our advantage.

"We should've slide outta here last night. Lived to fight another day." The superiority in his voice was in direct contrast to his circumstances. He was marooned in this death trap same as the rest of us so he should wipe the smirk off his face with the quickness. "We lost that window didn't we?" He was right and everyone knew it though they didn't look happy about it. I pressed my arm against my side, trying to stem the flow of blood as Merle's eyes shifted to me. "Ask Firecracker, she knows."

Rick looked at me and I licked my lips. Nothing ruffled my feathers more than agreeing with Merle Dixon, but the man had a point.

"We can't leave now." I kept my face blank and voice even. "The Governor isn't a military man, but he has men with him that were and they'll expect us to run after today. We can't sneak this many people out unseen in a reasonable amount of time."

"He'll have scouts on every road outta this place by now," Merle confirmed. Rick took a deep inhale, running his hand over the stubble of his beard.

"You agree?" he asked.

"It's what I'd do," I answered.

Truth was if I was on the other side of this conflict it would be nothing to take the prison by nightfall. Our group was too small in number to sufficiently cover the area, we had more blind spots than Stevie Wonder, no heavy weapons and limited ammunition. Bottom line, our hold on this place was an optical illusion. We still held it only because he hadn't strolled in here and taken it.

"We ain't scared of that prick." Daryl's voice made my spine go rigid in an instant, and I bit back a groan as the pain in my side flared.

Merle snorted, "Ya'll should be. That truck through the fence thing...that's just him ringing the doorbell. If he gets his hands on any of ya yur gonna wish ya were dead. He ain't one to trifle with. Ain't that right my Nubian Princess?"

If looks could kill Deadpool would have killed Merle a hundred times over by now. She should shoot him. It did wonders for my morale.

"She did relieve him of an eye," I pointed out. Merle may have a point about The Governor and his men, but our group needed to know he was just a man. He could be hurt. He could be killed. Maybe not without heavy losses on our side, but still.

"Well hot damn, sign me up to re-enlist." I shot him the finger and he winked at me while laughing. I hated this entire family. "We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground in this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to."

Rick's eyes slide to mine and I begrudgingly nodded in agreement. We were in a bad spot with limited options. All of which sucked.

"Can we put him in the other cellblock?" Maggie asked. Her anxiety was reaching near epic proportions with Merle so close and I made a mental note to slip her some Clonazepam later.

"Won't change nothin' darlin'."

"Shut up!" Glenn roared, tugging his girlfriend closer to his side.

"Can't tell me what to do Chinaman," Merle chided.

"Merle!" Daryl and I screamed at the same time. My stomach churned with too many emotions I neither had the time nor inclination to deal with as we stared at each other, completely forgetting about his brother. Maggie hurling more accusations broke our trance and I blew out a harsh breath, looking away.

"This is all you! You started this!"

I understood her anger. Her time with The Governor was no picnic. She may not have the physical wounds Glenn and I carried, but what she'd been subjected to was much worse. Physical wounds healed a lot easier than emotional ones.

"What's the difference whose fault it is? What do we do?" Beth's normally reserved voice was harsh as she refocused the group on the big picture. We could always kill Merle later.

And we were off to the races, again.

Hershel advocated passionately to leave, pointing out Axel would still be alive if we had left hours ago when the subject first came up. He wasn't talking directly to me, wasn't even looking at me, but I knew the comment was meant for me. It had been my decision to stay, to try and sneak into Woodbury to kill The Governor. I knew he was likely to attack, but thought we had enough time to launch our own attack first. Axel paid with his life for my miscalculation. I didn't know the man well, would hardly call him a friend, but he was my responsibility so his death fell squarely on my shoulders. I would shoulder that burden, carry it with me for the rest of my life, but I'd made the right call then and now. I choose the option that put the least amount of people at risk and running put everyone's life on the line.

"There isn't always a way out," I said, interrupting Hershel's petition to leave. "Yes, Axel's dead and I'm sorry about that, but it's too late to run." I looked the old man square in the eye. "If we run now we'll never stop. It's not about the prison. It's about standing up to oppression, protecting what's ours. We need to make a stand, against The Governor, what he stands for, what's he's trying to take from us. If we don't do, who's going to?"

Hershel shot to his feet or rather clumsily hauled himself up using his crutches. "So you'd sacrifice us all for this place? The where doesn't matter. Keeping us all alive and together is the important thing."

I shook my head, "And next time?" He dropped his head. "The world is filled with Governor's. Are we going to run from them too?" I looked around the room. "We aren't fighting for concrete and fences. We're fighting for our way of life."

No one spoke because there was nothing left to say. It was time to make a choice. All eyes fell to Rick, waiting to see what he would do, but instead of the calm, collected leader that kept us alive this winter I saw the grieving, unsure widower. He was cracking, the strain of everything pulling him apart faster than he could put it back together. He started towards the exit, but Hershel moved with surprising quickness for someone missing a limb.

"Get back here!" he bellowed. His voice echoed in the cellblock and Rick stopped as he hobbled to him. "You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why, but now it not the time." The statement was so absurd I almost laughed. Rick, if you could pick a more convenient time to have a mental breakdown that would be great. Unbelievable. "You once said this wasn't a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in _your_ _hands_. So get your head clear and do something."

Damn.

That was harsh. Absolutely, 100% true, but harsh.

"I need..." His voice broke, unable to look the old man in the eye. "I need time to think."

Without another word he left and I rubbed my hands up and down my face. In my opinion there was no decision. If we tried to leave the prison we died, guaranteed, either by The Governor's hand or walkers. We were probably going to die if we stayed, but the odds were better here than on the road. Plus, I would rather die taking a few of those dipshits with me. When we found this place I called it our Alamo. It was shaping up to be a pretty apt description given what was headed our way.

With Rick gone the group slowly dispersed. Glenn and Maggie retreated to their cell, Beth heading for towards Nugget who was screaming her displeasure, Carol continued to loiter in the stairwell, waiting to pounce. She was hoping to corner Daryl and pester him about leaving until he begged her for a swift death. I grinned. That woman could nag better than any human being on the planet. My time at Woodbury would be more pleasant than what she had planned for him.

"Come on, let's get you stitched up. Again." I swear he rolled his eyes at the last part. Did he think I did this on purpose? He didn't wait for a response, but stopped when he realized I wasn't following. "Are you coming?"

I hooked a thumb in Merle's direction. "His is worse."

Hershel examined Merle like he just now realized he was locked in the man cave bleeding.

"He can wait."

I laughed out loud as I pushed off the wall, making my way to Hershel's cell/doctor's office.

"Ain't no way to treat family Firecracker," Merle hollered from behind the bars.

My steps faltered as I looked over my shoulder at him, the warning clear on my face. When he smirked I let my hand drop to my side, hand close to my weapon.

"I will shoot you again," I promised. The crazy bastard actually laughed.

"If violence turns ya on I'll play. Kinky as hell, but I like it. I'm almost disappointed my brother snatched ya up first."

I slapped a hand over my mouth, cheeks puffed out as I tried to swallow down the vomit. Looking into Hershel's cell I asked, "Do you have any anti-nausea meds? I need them."

"Come on now lil' sister! Don't be like that!"

I didn't bother acknowledging his comments because there was nothing to say, nothing good at least. I walked into Hershel's office, Merle's laughter still bouncing off the concrete walls behind me. With any luck everyone, including Daryl, would chalk his behavior up to Merle being a dick. I wasn't sure how long that logic would hold, but I'd take what I could get. Any other option would require a lot more than anti-nausea medication to deal with. Pretending to be Daryl's wife seemed like a good idea at the time, but there was a sizeable downside I never considered, mainly Daryl finding out. It would have been bad if we were still on speaking terms, but now, it would be more fun to floss with barbed wire than broach the subject.

"Let me see it," Hershel said as he sat down on the bottom bunk. I pulled up my tank top, wincing as fabric stuck to my skin due to the dried blood. Hershel sighed, his nimble fingers probing the shallow cut. "You'll need a few stitches. The antibiotics you're already on should keep the infection at bay, but let me know if it isn't feeling better in a few days."

"Lovely," I remarked dryly.

"Do you mind taking the shirt off? The wound is so high it will make this faster."

"Sure."

Gingerly I pulled off the ruined tank top, tossing it into a waste bin that had been hauled in here for such occasions. The thing was already halfway full of bloody clothes, towels and sheets. At the rate we were going through medically supplies we would run out in a few weeks, and with The Governor's whereabouts unknown no one was making any supply runs in the near future. Things just got better and better. Hershel worked swiftly and silently. The stitches he wove back-and-forth through my skin barely registering.

"Sorry we don't have any anesthetic," he apologized as he tied off another stitch.

I crossed my arms against the top bunk, resting my forehead on my arms. "It's fine."

"All done." I glanced down at my side, admiring the four perfect stitches. "Just need to cover it with a bandage and you'll be set. I'd tell you to take it easy, but..."

"If people would stop shooting at me I _would_ _take it easy_."

"Fair enough."

He taped a piece of gauze over the newly closed gash.

"You'll be good as new in a few days." If you say so old man. "Alex, I know it's none of my business..."

I cut him off, "You're right, it's not." I was too tired and too sore to have this conversation.

"He made a mistake." Understatement of the century. "You know what they say dear, to err is human, to forgive..."

"Is never gonna fucking happen?" I was paraphrasing.

Carol's timely entrance saved me from another lecture on language as she handed me a new tank top.

"Thought you might need this."

"I love you."

Slowly I put the tank top on, the stitches pulling ever so slightly as I extended my arm. Carol leaned against the opposite wall, her body language all wrong. She looked nervous and twitchy which meant she had a secret. Carol would make a terrible spy.

"What is it?" I asked. Her eyes darted around the small cell. I couldn't tell if she was buying time or looking for an escape pod.

Finding neither she took a deep breath and finally confessed, "There's someone waiting outside."

The "someone" didn't need to be named, sort of like Voldemort. Now I was looking for an escape pod. I could maybe squeeze through the bars on the window, and if not I could for sure whip up a bomb using the remnants of Hershel's medical supplies and blast my way out.

"I'll go see to our guest," Hershel said, "Carol, would you mind helping?" She nodded so enthusiastically I was surprised her head didn't twist off.

"Subtle guys. Thank you for that, really, I appreciate it."

Realistically I knew I had to speak to Daryl at some point, but I was shooting for around the 50 or 60 year mark, not the one hour mark. Having friends sucked.

I kept my back to the cell entrance, adjusting my tank top as I used a wet cloth in the sink to wipe away smears of blood from my face, body and hands. Daryl's boots stomped against the concrete purposefully as he entered. The man could be quieter than a church mouse when he wanted to so dragging his feet was a deliberate move on his part. Smart, but if he thought that would stop me from shooting him at some point in this conversation he was delusional.

Discreetly I examined his reflection in the mirror as I scrubbed my face. He was dirty, but that was nothing new. Even when he had access to hygiene supplies the man opted to go "au naturel". His face looked haggard with dark bags under his eyes and a healthy dose of stubble on his face. His clothes while never immaculate looked more tattered than they had a right to after being out on the road for less than a day. His hair was greasy and falling into his eyes. It was the longest I'd ever seen it, hanging over his ears by almost an inch.

All-in-all he looked like absolute shit. He stepped just inside cell, putting his back against the wall as he bit his filthy thumbnail. I rolled my eyes, scrubbing at my hands with more vigor than the task required as I waited. He sought me out and now he wanted to play the quiet game? Dropping the rag I turned, leaning against the sink and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Did you need something?" My tone was neutral, bored, my face carefully blank. He may have broken me, but I would be damned if I let him see it.

"Red..."

"Don't call me that," I ground out, fingernails digging into my arm.

One word. That was all it took for him to pull at the threads that would completely unravel my self-control. My rebuff hurt him and the twisted part of my soul was overjoyed.

"Alex," he amended though it was clear it hurt him to do so. Good. "I wanted...to ah, tell ya...that, well...I'm...sorry."

I shook my head at him, "You still suck at this."

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

He narrowed his eyes, aggravation peeking through his carefully constructed demeanor. He'd lost his ever loving mind if he thought he was going to waltz in here, stutter through a bullshit apology and things would go back to the way they were.

Not.

Happening.

"Didn't wanna leave ya."

I laughed without humor, "And yet you did."

"Yur hurt. Being on the road with Merle and me would'a killed ya. I was trying to protect ya."

His voice rose with each word as frustration pulsated off his massive frame, but I could care less. I wasn't doing this with him. Not now. Not ever. When 30 seconds elapsed and he did nothing but grunt in annoyance I pushed off the sink, heading for the exit, but paused in the threshold. Our shoulders were inches apart, the heat from his body wrapping around me like a familiar blanket. He looked the same, smelled the same, and my heart begged me to forgive and my hands itched to touch him. All it would take was a half-step to the right and I would be back in his arms. My heart may long for the man I still loved, but my head was running the show and it promptly vetoed the idea.

"I never wanted you to save me," I whispered to him without looking at him, "I wanted you to stand by my side as I saved myself."

Without waiting for a reply I left the cell, spotting Rick immediately as he moved into through the cellblock like a man on a mission. He handed Maggie a set of keys with the instructions to take first watch.

"Fields filled with walkers. I didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch," he told the group.

"I can get up in the guard tower take out half these walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence," Daryl offered, his voice robotic and detached.

"We could use some of the cars to put the bus back in place," Deadpool suggested.

"Not enough ammo for that," I said, leaning against stairwell.

"She's right. We can't access the fence without burning through our bullets," Hershel agreed.

Glenn sighed in annoyance, "So we're trapped in here?" He said it like a question, but his tone screamed statement or better yet accusation. "There's barely any food or ammo."

"We can't risk a run with a large group, but one person could get through any checkpoints The Governor has set up." Rick looked at me like I was crazy. So, like normal. "What? It's a viable option and I can clear most of the walkers out on my way. At the very least it will draw them away from the fence long enough for you guys to repair it."

"Hell no!" Daryl exclaimed as I waved him off with a flick of my wrist, waiting for Rick's decision. "We don't need no suicide run. We've been here before we'll be a'right."

"That was when it was _just_ us." In my humble opinion Glenn had every right to hold a grudge against Merle. The man had beaten him and tossed a walker into the room while he was tied to a chair. I didn't think even shooting him could square that. Needless to say, they weren't going to be exchanging BFF bracelets any time soon. "Before there was a snake in the nest."

Daryl rounded on him, his face deadly as he took a step forward. My body coiled with tension, waiting for the inevitable explosion and wondering how far I would have to go to stop it.

"Man, we gonna go through this again? Look, Merle's stayin' here. He's with us now. Get used to it. All y'all."

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding when he pushed past Glenn, climbing the stairs. Six months ago that "discussion" would have ended in a scuffle complete with weapons being drawn, and would inevitably end via illegal chokehold.

"Seriously Rick, do you think Merle living here is really going to fly?" Glenn snapped.

"I can't kick him out."

"I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you!"

"Enough!" I roared, wedging myself between the men. It was a bad day when I was the voice of reason. "We're getting nowhere right now and we have bigger problems on our hands. If we survive the night you guys can decide who gets to kill who, deal?"

"Merle has military experience. He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother," Hershel offered, ever the diplomat.

"Military experience? That's your reason to keep him?" Glenn sounded on the verge of losing what was left of his shit. He pointed to me, his eyes ablaze with fury. "No one has more military experience than Alex so I'm calling bullshit!"

Ooh, he was gonna hear about that later. Bullshit was a whooper of a bad language word.

"What would you suggest?" I asked, trying to clam him down.

"We solve two problems at once. Deliver Merle to The Governor, bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce."

"Alex?" Rick asked.

"That assumes Merle is important to The Governor." I sent Glenn an apologetic look. "Even if he is we'll never come to terms with a man like him. He can't be trusted."

"She's right," Deadpool said.

Glenn threw his hands up in frustration, swiveling on his heel and stalking off to stew in solitude. I empathized with him, truly I did. I knew what it was like to make nice with your abuser and there was nothing easy about it.

"I'm going to head outside and see what our options are for the fence," I told Rick.

"Alex," he said wearily.

"Relax, I'm just going to stretch my legs. It'll be fine."

Hershel sighed, "I don't suppose mentioning you have four stitches in your side and another eight in your arm will change your mind at all?"

I chuckled, only stopping when he didn't join in.

"Sorry, were you serious?" He narrowed his eyes at me and I swallowed hard, turning my attention to someone who didn't hold sharp objects near my body on a regular basis. "Deadpool, you busy?"

She smirked, following behind me.

"What about snipers?!" Rick shouted.

"You said you didn't see any," I called over my shoulder, "Besides, those guys can't aim for shit."

"They hit you didn't they?"

I kept walking, holding my hand up as I wagged a finger in the air. "Close range. Lucky shot. Doesn't count."

We made our way out to the fence, our faces grim as we assessed the damage. The amount of walkers in the yard had easily doubled since we were last out here. Clearing them out would be a full-time job and then some.

"OK, let's go out that way then circle back." I pointed to the right where the congregation of the dead was the smallest. "If we can jerry rig the fence to keep more from getting in we can start clearing out the yard."

"Jerry rig it with what?" she asked.

"Oh I have all the goodies." In reality I had some wire, rope and a few strands of chain.

"You realize this will never work?"

I shrugged, "It's this or sit inside with the Dixon brothers." I held my hands out, one holding rope, the other chain. "Your call."

"Fence repair it is," she replied without hesitation, taking the rope.

"Damn straight."

An hour later we stumbled into the man cave covered in walker blood, breathing hard and one of us bleeding from a few busted stitches.

"What happened?" Carol asked with concern.

"It's possible there are more walkers in the yard than two people can handle," I panted, hands on my knees.

"Ya don't say," Merle drawled from his spot at the steel picnic table.

"Did you get the gate closed?" Carol's faith in our abilities was sweet. Misplaced, but sweet.

"Uh, no."

We didn't even get close to the gate before the walkers surrounded us. It wasn't the number of walkers, but the stamina required to kill so many at once. There was a never ending line of them eager to step up for a knife to the head, and without some kind of superhero abilities there was no maintaining that pace.

"You're bleeding," Carol pointed out matter-of-factly.

Glancing down I saw a small smear of crimson on my tank top. "Don't tell Hershel."

Carol handed us both some water which I gladly accepted, finding a spot against a wall and all but falling to the ground as I gulped it down greedily. Deadpool on the other hand took a tiny sip, placed the bottle on the ground, and started doing push-ups.

Show off.

When she started pulling her knee up in a half crunch each time she went down I decided we couldn't be friends anymore. Between the Fight Club at Woodbury, the firefight to escape, he who shall not be named ghosting me, the attack on the prison and being shot twice I was D-U-N. In the military we had a saying, " _things can always get worse"_. It was a foolproof mantra and I knew it applied now, but I was having a hard time imaging what worse would look like in this situation. Maybe water turning to blood or swarms of locusts or no more ABCs and 123s. You know, Biblical stuff.

I wanted to sleep, but that would require venturing into my own personal hell otherwise known as my shared sleeping space with Daryl. I would sooner set my teeth on fire than deal with that so I settled against the wall, doing my best to get comfortable even as my ass went numb.

"Smart to stay fit," Merle commented as Deadpool finished her Crossfit workout. "I think if we're gonna live under the same roof we should clear the air."

I groaned. Guaranteed this conversation ended in bloodshed. I had $50 on Deadpool.

"This whole hunting you down thing." He paused dramatically. "That was just business. Carrying out orders." Deadpool made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat, not taking his olive branch. "I done a lot of things I ain't proud of before and...after." Merle's voice caught on the last word and I opened my eyes. "Anyway, hope we can get past it. Let bygone's be bygone's."

It was hard to decide if I was more shocked at his attempt at reconciliation or the fact he knew the word bygone. When it was clear she wasn't going to accept or decline his offer at the moment he sighed, standing up and walking out.

"You believe him?" Deadpool asked.

"Which part?" She glanced at me with her signature scowl and I exhaled sharply. "Hard as it is to believe there's a good man buried in there somewhere."

Somewhere really deep. Like under 100 pounds of asshole deep.

"So you trust him?"

I snorted, "Hell no." She gave me a 'what the fuck' look and I smiled. "I understand him. Known men like him my whole life. I don't trust him _right now_ , but I could, in time."

He was Darth Vadar and to my Luke Skywalker except he was the one with a missing hand. I sensed the good in him, and believed he could find his way back to the light side of the Force.

"Seems like a long shot," she commented.

"Everything's a long shot these days."

"Andrea!" Carl shouted, skidding to a stop in the middle of the room, "Andrea's outside!"

I was on my feet in an instant, numb ass not slowing me down as I drew a weapon, running to the door.

"Is she alone?"

"I think so, but she's got a walker," the boy answered.

"She's got a what?" Rick exclaimed, following behind me.

I led the charge out of the cellblock Rick, Daryl, Merle, Deadpool and Beth right behind me. Crouching down behind the hood of a car I scanned the yard. Sure enough, there was Andrea's blonde head walking straight through the grass holding a walker by the throat with a pole.

"I really just need this day to end already," I mumbled, scanning the area for anyone else. "Looks like she's alone."

"Go," Rick ordered. Merle and I sprang from behind the truck as we fanned out.

"Clear," Merle stated, weapon scanning for danger.

Checking left and right on my side I yelled, "Clear."

Rick sprinted forward, the rest of us trailing behind as he called out to Andrea, "Are you alone?"

"Open the gates!" she screamed, head bobbing as walkers converged on her.

"Are you alone?!"

I put Andrea's forehead directly in my sights. I didn't like this. I didn't trust her showing up now of all times, hours after her boyfriend attacked us. If she so much as breathed the wrong way I would end her. My gut clenched in anxiety as I tried to reason if she'd come on her own or if The Governor sent her like his own personal Trojan horse? She was someone we knew, someone we trusted at one time and there was no better way to get behind our defenses than on the coattails of someone we saw as a friend. It reminded me a little too much of a suicide bomber.

"Rick!" Andrea's cries were getting desperate as she neared the fence, a trail of walkers following in her footsteps. Rick nodded at Daryl, tossing him the keys as he quickly unlocked the chains. Merle slide the gate open just wide enough for her to dart through as Rick and I kept our weapons aimed at her.

"Hands up! Turn around!"

"What?"

Rick pushed her up against the fence, "Turn around now!"

Rick patted her down, barely pulling her away from the fence before a walker clawed her face, shoving her to her knees as she yelped in distress. I kept my weapon aimed at her head as everyone else pointed theirs into the yard, bracing for another attack.

"I asked if you were alone," Rick whispered in her ear, continuing to check her for weapons as he pried a bag off her shoulder, tossing it away.

"I am."

Deadpool walked closer, her normally stoic face a kaleidoscope of emotions. Then I remembered she'd been the one to find Andrea after the farm. The two of them had survived winter together, been at Woodbury together, but where Deadpool had fled the community Andrea had stayed. Suddenly the hurt on Deadpool's face wasn't difficult to decipher.

"Welcome back." Rick grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. "Get up."

She looked shocked at the rough treatment. Did she really expect us to roll out the welcome mat? That was presumptuous even for her. She followed Rick into the cellblock, her steps slow and eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. She looked shocked, but it was to be expected. Someone like Andrea had never seen the inside of prison, and everyone at Woodbury was living like they were smack dab in the middle of an episode of Leave It to Beaver. Needless to say the prison was a stark contrast.

When she saw Carol in the man cave she rushed forward, enveloping the woman in a tight embrace. I took up my customary spot against the wall in the corner, careful to keep my eye on her. Andrea and I never got along and that was before she sided with the enemy. She loathed the fact I joined the group for reasons I wasn't ever clear on and her more-talk-than-skill attitude got under my skin. I wasn't expecting a hug anytime soon.

Merle leaned against the wall next to me and I gave him a questioning look, but stayed silent as the corners of his mouth twitched in a barely there smile. You would have to be blind to miss the way Daryl's nostrils flared with anger and more than a little jealousy, and that was probably 80% of the reason Merle did it. The asshole still incorrectly thought we were married and nothing would entertain him more than being close to his brother's wife when he couldn't.

The two women hugged for so long it made me uncomfortable. Carol felt responsible for Andrea's "death" since she was the one to save her, but enough was enough. If they didn't break it up soon I was going to pry them apart with a crowbar just so we could get this show on the road.

"Hershel, my god," Andrea exclaimed. With us all stuffed into the man cave it didn't take her long to do the math. "I can't believe this. Where's Shane?" Rick swallowed hard, nodding his head no before looking away. "And Lori?"

I wanted to pistol whip her. It was a solid bet if you didn't see them standing here they were no longer with us.

"She had a girl. Lori didn't survive," Hershel said, supplying the details.

An involuntary shutter racked my body that almost sent me to my knees, Merle's good hand steadying me at my elbow. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to block out the sights and sounds of Lori dying, me killing her. When I opened them again Daryl was staring at me, his face pinched with concern. I couldn't hold his gaze so I dropped my eyes to the floor.

"Neither did T-Dog," Carol added. I was breathing so hard now my vision was blurry from lack of oxygen. Recounting the one's we'd lost was agony. Merle's hand stayed locked on my elbow even as I sagged against the wall.

"Hang in there Firecracker," he whispered only loud enough for me to hear.

I no longer thought Merle was helping me to fuck with Daryl. To him I was his brother's wife which made us family and nothing came between a Dixon and family. One of these days I was going to learn to think before speaking.

"I'm so sorry," Andrea muttered. Gathering myself I stood up straighter, cracking my neck as I gave Merle a quick nod to let him know I was good. He released me, but stayed close. "Carl..."

That did it. I was at my limit. Carl and Nugget were off limits.

"What do you want Andrea?" I ground out, drawing her attention away from the boy.

"I had to come, when I found out..." she trailed off, "You all live here?"

No, we lived somewhere else and just thought starting a war with your boy toy was a good way to pass the time.

"In the cellblock," Glenn confirmed, voice tense.

"There?" She pointed to the cellblock and Glenn nodded. Andrea was always slow on the uptake, but this was ridiculous. "Well, can I go in?"

She took a step forward, but Rick blocked her path. "I can't allow that."

"I'm not the enemy Rick," she stated. The state of our front gate would disagree, vehemently.

"We had that field, courtyard, until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up."

"He said you shot first."

"He says a lot of things," I told her and she turned her head to look at me, taking in the bruises and cuts on my face and body, a question in her gaze. "Yeah."

"But he said..." she trailed off, her reality shifting under her feet.

"He's lying," Rick told her in a clipped tone.

"He killed an inmate who survived in here," Hershel elaborated.

"We liked him." Daryl looked at her, eyes serious. "He was one of us."

The unsaid message was clear, you aren't.

"I didn't know anything about that." She turned to me. "About any of it."

Merle snorted as I pinned her with an unimpressed look. "Hard to see things when you don't open your eyes."

"I didn't know Alex!"

"Couldn't hear me getting my ass kicked while you lounged in your La-Z-Boy?" I taunted, ignoring Daryl's uneasy glances as I spoke of my time in captivity.

"Please, you have to believe me. As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were at Woodbury until after the shootout."

Glenn sneered at her, "That was days ago."

"I told you, I came as soon as I could," she insisted.

"Too busy knocking boots," I mumbled under my breath and Merle chuckled. She looked around the room for an alley, but found no friendly faces.

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing," Deadpool answered with a barely raised eyebrow.

Which was true. Andrea made her bed and it turned out she finally found one she didn't like lying in. Who knew?

"I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?" She turned a circle, pleading her case. "You've accepted Alex, Michonne, Merle for god's sake, but not me."

"He almost killed Michonne. He forced Alex to fight thirty men, _thirty_ , with nothing but her bare hands while they came at her with knifes and bats!" Glenn's face turned red as he ranted. "He would have killed us all!"

Daryl sat on the table ramrod straight by the time Glenn was done and I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure why he looked pissed enough to spit nails. One, I wasn't his to worry about anymore. Two, at least I got to fight back. Glenn and Maggie couldn't say the same. If he wanted to feel sorry for someone feel sorry for them.

"With his finger on the trigger," she pointed at Merle who took the accusation like he took everything else, with a cocky smirk and a barely raised eyebrow. The man was like Teflon, nothing stuck. "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you?" She pointed at Maggie. "Who beat you?" Now Glenn.

"He's also the one who helped get us out," I interjected, her fury filled eyes turning to me. Oh hell-to-the-no. Exhausted or not I would still beat her ass. "You better settle down."

She exhaled sharply, covering her face with her hands. "Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done, but I'm here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," Rick stated, a hint of madness in his eyes. If Andrea thought the reception she received from the group was shocking she was about to have the wind knocked out of her lungs dealing with crazy Rick. The man she knew in Atlanta died with his wife. "We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will."

Dilly Dilly!

"We can settle this," she insisted, "There is room at Woodbury for all of you."

"Ooh, tempting..." I sucked in air between my teeth, sarcastically pretending to consider her preposterous offer. "But...I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass on the torture this go round. Thanks for the offer though."

Daryl covered his laugh with a cough and I caught my smile at the very last second.

"She's right," Merle said, "You know better than that."

"What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?" I swear to all things holy Hershel was the living embodiment of Switzerland, always neutral. "Did he say that?"

"No." Well, this was 15 minutes of my life I was never getting back.

"Then why did you come here?" Rick asked, his patience evaporating quickly. Excellent question.

"Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They are training to attack."

I _was a killer_ so he got that part right, and from what I witnessed earlier his people should be training. Those dickheads couldn't shoot for shit.

"I'll tell you what, next time you see _Philip_ tell 'em I'm gonna take his other eye," Daryl snarled.

My inner slut sat up and fanned herself despite my best attempts to tell that hooker to cool her tits. We may be over, but there was no ignoring the man's hotness. Not unless I wanted to channel my inner _Philip_ and cut out both my eyes. It was only magnified when he went all John Rambo. It wasn't just me either. Carol had drool coming from the corner of her mouth and Maggie had a slightly dazed looked in her eyes. He unknowingly made every woman with a pulse want his boat docked in their sperm harbor.

"We've taken too much shit for too long. He wants a war, he's got one." Glenn was not messing around and I couldn't blame him. We'd been bitch slapped one too many times. It was time for the bitch to hit back.

"Alright, but if you don't sit down and try to work this out I don't know what's going to happen. He has a whole town." She waved her hands around the room at our paltry group. "Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore."

"You wanna make this right get us inside," Rick ground out, eyes deadly.

"No," she answered immediately. I bowed my head. She answered that way too fast. She would never be swayed into helping us.

"Then we got nothing to talk about."

She called out to Rick as he left, "There are innocent people there."

"There's innocent people here," I told her. "There's always innocent people in war."

She shook her head at me, "There doesn't have to be a war."

"You may be sleeping with the man, but you don't know him. There is no compromise with someone like him. You keep saying we can stop this war, but you can't stop somethings that's already begun."

Without waiting for her reply I followed Rick into the cellblock, no particular destination in mind, but I found myself in Nugget's room. The baby girl was sleeping peacefully and I sat down next to her makeshift crib, watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest. It wasn't long until Carol and Andrea made their way up the stairs, Carol offering to let Andrea hold the infant. I stood up, scowling at the woman in warning as I brushed passed her, our shoulders colliding. If even one hair was out of place on Nugget's head when she was done I would make The Governor's crazy look like a cake walk.

"Alex, can you tell Glenn to get a car ready for Andrea," Rick yelled from a below.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something I wouldn't necessarily regret, but would pay for in the form of a Rick lecture. She walked here didn't she? Did she break her legs at some point? Why couldn't she walk back?

"Alex..."

I held my hands up in surrender as I stomped down the stairs, "I didn't say anything."

"But you're thinking it," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes, "No way you could know that."

"You scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows when you're thinking about hurting someone. It's your murder face."

I relaxed my facial muscles. "I don't have a murder face." Did I?

"Whatever you say."

"I'll tell Glenn to prepare a car for the traitor. Should I check the brakes, refill the wiper fluid, maybe get her a snack for the road too?" I shot him a sickly sweet smile.

"Honestly, I'd take the murder face over that." He cringed at my toothy grin.

"I better hurry or I won't be able to check her tire pressure before she runs home to bump uglies with our nemesis."

I practically skipped off, his groan of annoyance making my day as he mumbled something about me being worse than Carl. That was laughable. He wished Carl was as well behaved as me.

After getting the car ready I leaned against a concrete pillar with one foot raised, arms crossed over my chest, murder face firmly in place. I was studiously avoiding Daryl's presence only a few feet away. I kept my mind occupied trying to decide what was harder, ignoring him or not throwing a knife at Andrea's head.

"Can you spare it?" she asked Rick.

Of course, why not? It was only the apocalypse where anything not nailed down was a precious resource, but by all means take one of our few working vehicles so you can drive back to your boyfriend's compound and help him finish his preparations to kill us all.

"Yeah."

Rick may be cold and slightly less than stable, but there were traces of his former self still left. If it was up to me I would have told that bitch to get to stepping and smiled doing it.

She gave everyone one final parting glance, her eyes pausing on Deadpool for a beat, swallowing thickly. It was clear the friends still hadn't found common ground and who could blame them. There was no gray area I could see. You were either with us or against us and right now Andrea was firmly against us. I didn't miss the slight nod Daryl gave her and I ground my teeth together, jealousy I had no right to feel expanding like an overfilled balloon in my chest.

"Well, take care."

"Andrea," Rick stopped her, stepping forward. He gave her back her knife and gun before telling her to be careful. His warning not about walkers.

"You too."

Daryl and I followed behind her car as the others hung back providing backup for Merle as he unlocked the last gate. I watched the car as it faded into the distance, mulling over Carol's advice to Andrea. I didn't see her following through with it, but that wasn't what shocked me. It was _who_ the suggestion had come from. Last year you would have been hard pressed to hear her say two words and now she was planning assassinations like a feme fatale. Yet more evidence it was hard, if not impossible, to maintain even hints of your former self in this world. The thought made me incredibly sad, but not for myself. It was Carl and Nugget at the forefront of my mind. I didn't want them to ever feel like this, but I saw no way to avoid it.

It was late in the day and the group retreated back to the cellblock for the evening leaving Carl on first watch. I hung back, seeking solace anywhere but inside the concrete walls. The once spacious cellblock now felt suffocating. I needed space, time to think, and a place as far away from Daryl as possible. I didn't have the heart to untangle our once shared sleeping space. The prospect of going inside and facing the awkward song-and-dance around each other was less than appealing. So I made my way to the roof, and as I sat with my back against the small concrete wall I couldn't deny there was definitely a pattern when it came to me and rooftops.

My rifle lay across my lap, but my eyes were glued to the bright starts littering the inky dark night, not a cloud for miles. It was undeniably gorgeous and there was so little of that left in the world I couldn't bring myself to look away. Greek mythology said stars were the souls of the dead, heroes who earned their immortality in the night sky. I didn't necessarily believe that, but as I gazed at a particularly large and exceedingly bright star directly over my head that flickered in a pattern of bright to brighter then back to bright my thoughts immediately went to T. If it was true then that would be his star, his soul, larger than life and shinning so bright it lit up the night. There was another star, further in the distance and smaller, but the way it twinkled reminded me of someone laughing endlessly. That one would be Haley, smiling and full of laughter even in death. I didn't know what happened after you died, but becoming a star seemed as good an ending as any.

"Always on a roof."

Heaving a heavy sigh I tore my eyes away from the stars to observe the man who broken my heart as he stood uncomfortably a good 10 feet away. There were times I admired his dogged determination. Now was not one of those times.

"What do you want?" I looked away from him, watching the walkers milling around the yard already missing my stars. His feet shuffled forward and I had to force myself to relax.

"Didn't come down in for dinner."

"What-Do-You-Want?" He sighed and I almost knocked him off the roof. He didn't get to be put out. He didn't get to be angry.

"Told Merle we were married." His voice sounded funny, off somehow, so I looked at him, but his blank mask was in place so I couldn't get a read on him. Was he surprised, outraged, offended? I had no idea. Well, two could play at that game.

"And you didn't correcting him," I countered.

Why this was what he chose to focus on was anyone's guess, but I suppose it was bound to come up. It wasn't every day you found out you were married and had no recollection of it.

He ignored my statement. "Why?"

"He was on the outs at Woodbury. I was desperate and took a chance." I shifted uneasily, desperately wishing he would drop the subject. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, eyeing me critically.

"That the only reason?"

At first, yes. My sole focus had been getting the three of us out of there alive by any means necessary. It wasn't until after I said the words that an inexplicable feeling of elation, of longing, made itself known. It was only then I realized a teeny tiny part of me (every inch of me) wanted it to be true, but there was a better chance of walkers flying than me admitting that.

"Yes," I lied easily as his shoulder deflated. "Any reason you didn't set him straight? He's bugging me constantly about the next family reunion."

While I loathed the spotlight being on me in this conversation I had no issue pointing it at him. I was dying to know why he hadn't squashed the insane notion the moment it passed his brother's lips. In typical Daryl fashion he gave me a non-answer in the form of a shrug and a grunt. This talk was _super_ _productive_ thus far.

He didn't say anything else so I went back to pretending he didn't exist. It was exasperating when someone went out of their way to seek you out only to stand in silence once they found you. He could stand there in silence all night for all I cared. I had nothing to say. I closed my eyes, trying to get comfortable on the concrete roof, but it was wasted effort. Between Daryl's looming presence and the unforgiving surface I was screwed.

"I'm sorry I left ya."

I drug my teeth over my lip, keeping my eyes closed. "You said that already."

"Red..."

My eyes snapped open as I pointed a finger at him, "You don't get to call me that."

His lips thinned in annoyance.

"Alex." He fumbled my name, the sound of it strange on his tongue. "I wanna make this right."

"And how does that work exactly?" I hissed, "What do you want from me?"

"I want yur forgiveness!" he yelled back. Only Daryl could ask for forgiveness while screaming.

"Fine, apology accepted," I said and his eyes softened as he took a hesitant step forward. "Trust denied."

"Please..." I scoffed, remembering a time not too long ago when I'd sobbed in Rick's arms yelling that same word over and over with no result.

"Why did you come back?" I asked. The question shouldn't have caught him off guard, but judging by the look on his face it did. He had no idea what to say, unsure of how I would react. "It's a simple question."

"It was the right thing to do." He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot in a very un-Daryl-like fashion. Was he nervous? "Being here...with ya...it's where I belong."

"Wasn't the case a few days ago." He opened his mouth to reject my statement, but I cut him off, "I'm glad you came back. The group needs you. You're a valuable member, but you shouldn't have come back for me."

"Don't make this about the group," he scowled.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I was on my feet now, stalking towards with malice and an undeniable murder face. "You left, not me, you!" I pointed an accusatory finger in his face. "You left when you knew it would destroy me. You knew being left behind was one of my biggest fears and you did it without hesitation. I loved you! I trusted you with everything and you broke all your promises!"

My breathing was ragged, my heart hammering in my chest as all my pent up anger came surging to the surface at once. Daryl absorbed hit after hit, his face paling with each accusation, but I wasn't done yet. He started this, but I was going to finish it.

"It was supposed to be you and me. That's what we swore. This side or other, do you remember?" I gestured between the two of us. He shook his head yes as the bitter taste of adrenaline coated my tongue. "Did you mean any of it?" As usual words failed him and he said nothing. "You were gone the moment you saw your brother in that ring. You didn't even try to figure out another way, you didn't fight for us, for me, you just...left." I blinked rapidly, swallowing down the urge to cry. "You don't get to have me back. Not after that. We're done."

He looked visibly shaken, his face stricken and it may have been my imagination, but I swear I saw tears in his eyes but it was too dark to be sure. A few days ago that would have caused me to go into cardiac arrest. Now it didn't even register on my radar. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out as I shook my head at him, turning away and going back to my spot against the wall.

"I love ya," he admitted softly, unsure of himself. I stopped mid-stride, turning around slowly to face him, surprised my head didn't keep spinning around like the Exorcist.

"Don't." My voice was low, menacing, absolutely lethal. It was meant as a threat and he took it as one, his body responding in kind as he readied for an attack. "You don't get to say that to me now."

"Can't tell me what I feel."

"You're right, I can't, but I do get to choose what I believe, and I don't believe you." He hissed out a string of curses, frustration making his body shake. "The fact that you're saying it at all is proof enough its bullshit."

"The fuck?" he glared at me and if I wasn't so fucking mad I would've laughed. "That don't make no damn sense."

I shook my head at him, turning around and sitting down. The fight drained out of me as quickly as it had come. When I was good and comfy I looked back at him, smirking at his irritation.

"You don't express yourself with words. You didn't before we were together and you certainly didn't after." I paused briefly, letting it soak in. "You're a man of action, not words."

"Yur sayin' I'd never tell ya I love ya? That's bullshit."

I laughed, "No, if things had been different you would've told me, eventually, but you would have shown me long before you ever worked up the nerve to say the words."

And I do mean long. Probably years if I had to venture a guess. Too bad I would never know. He took a step forward, his long legs carrying him half the distance to me.

"Yur sayin' I ain't never showed ya how I feel? Fuck that Red. I ain't done right by ya, not by a mile, but that ain't true."

The smile on my face gave him pause. I didn't even bother to address his use of my nickname. I was tired and it was time for him to leave.

"You're absolutely right Daryl. You _did_ show me exactly how you feel." His forehead creased in confusion, sensing the trap he'd unknowingly stumbled into but didn't understand. "You showed me how you felt when you turned your back on me as I begged you to stay. You made it abundantly clear how you felt when you left me crying on the road in the arms of another man."

"Red..."

"Get off my roof."

* * *

 **So...tell me...what'd ya think?**

 **Don't hate me. Remember, it's only been a little over a day since "the incident" and for a lot of that Alex was unconscious. Don't worry, we will eventually move passed this type of interaction between our fav couple, but slowly, realistically. It's going to take time to rebuild the relationship and I hope you guys are good with that. I think you are really going to enjoy the journey.**

 **Thank you all for reading!**


	30. The World Is Up For Grabs

**The World Is Up For Grabs**

"Are you sure about Michonne?" Hershel asked Rick for the 100th time.

Rick smothered a groan of annoyance even I was starting to feel. How many times were we going to do this exactly?

"As sure as I can be," he said, again. That was a non-answer if I ever heard one.

Rick and Carl were currently loading up the car for an ammo run, and they were taking Deadpool with them. Everyone seemed uncomfortable with the samurai accompanying them on the trip. I didn't share their opinion. Not 100% anyway.

"If she was going to kill us she would have done it by now," I added as I leaned against the wall picking at my nails with a knife.

"You said the exact same thing about yourself at my farm."

I looked up, grinning at the old man. "Exactly."

He was proving my point for me. Did I end up killing everyone? No, I did not. Not yet anyway, but if this convo kept going much longer I couldn't be held responsible for my actions.

"You really think we can trust her?" Glenn questioned, looking at me with worry filled eyes.

"As much as we can trust anyone these days." It wasn't exactly a glowing recommendation, but if we really considered her a threat why was she still here? "We've let her stay. She sleeps a few feet from Carl and Nugget. Letting her go on a supply run is nothing compared to that."

I may not think she would massacre us all in our sleep, but it hadn't stopped me from keeping my eye on her the past few days. So far she'd done nothing to warrant a bullet to the forehead, and my criteria for one of those was fairly limited. Also, if she was willing to help us fight The Governor I didn't see how we could refuse. The list of people lining up to play Alamo was pretty short.

"She's right," Daryl agreed and I almost amended my opinion out of spite. Instead I kept my eyes fixed on my fingernails as I completed my manicure. Rick slammed the trunk closed walking to the passenger side door as Deadpool made her way out of the prison.

"We're going. Daryl, Alex you know what to do. We'll be back before nightfall."

I nodded at him, pushing off the wall and walking to Carl. "Keep your head on a swivel out there."

"I know." He all but rolled his eyes, kids. He shifted closer to and I squatted down so he could whisper. "Can we really trust her?"

We were eye level and I smiled, putting my my hands on his shoulders. "She's one of us."

"How can you be sure?" I pressed a hand against his chest directly over his heart.

"I feel it in here." His lips pressed into a thin line, ever the skeptic as he looked at something over my shoulder. "Hey, it's OK if you don't. Trust your instincts. They'll keep you alive."

He nodded at me, arms going around my neck as he hugged me tight. I held him close, trying to calm the stress having him venture outside the gates caused me. I'd reminded myself countless times since Rick declared he was taking him there was no way to hide him from the world forever. He was ready. I trained him myself. He could do this. I would just have to keep repeating that over-and-over until he was back safely.

Pulling away I held him at arm's length, "You're ready."

Without another word I opened the car door and ushered him inside. Rick waited patiently beside the car.

"Take care of Judith." His steely eyes bore into mine. The burden of his request heavy on both our shoulders.

"With my life."

"You gonna to be able to play nice with Daryl?" Rick meddled more than my grandmother, and that woman practically made it a profession.

"Course." Maybe.

He raised one eyebrow, "Without killing him?"

I scoffed, "I'd never kill him." Maim absolutely, but kill, no. When he raised his other eyebrow I amended my answer. "Fine." I held my hand up, middle three fingers extended in the perfect Boy Scout salute. "I promise not to give him anymore free dental work."

"It'll have to do," he nodded and got in the car just as Deadpool arrived.

She looked skeptically at the car's occupants then me. "Anything I should know?"

I snorted, "How much time you got?"

"About five seconds." I didn't miss the barely there smile on her stoic face.

"Well in that case I'll just cover the highlights." I looked pointedly at Carl then her, "You protect him with your life. If he so much as has a hair out place when he gets back it better be because you're already dead. You feel me?"

Her lips twitched as she nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

I walked forward, pausing just beside her as I looked over my shoulder at Rick who was watching our interaction with interest. "Yeah, keep an eye on him for me."

"Think it will probably be the other way around."

I hummed in agreement, "Yeah, well, he isn't exactly on his game right now."

"I noticed." I watched her face carefully for any signs of deception, but found none. If she was planning to turn on us she was the best infiltrator I'd ever met and I faced some of the best. Hell, I was one of the best. "I'll bring them both back. You're getting the shit end of the deal."

Her chin jutted out and I turned to see Daryl and Merle sitting on a metal picnic table next to the basketball court. She was right about that.

"On a scale of one to ten how bad is it that I'd rather lock myself in a cell with Merle than occupy the same zip code as his brother?"

She licked her lips, her face murderous as she shot daggers at Merle.

"You realize he shot me right?" she ground out.

I shrugged, "He shot me too."

I pointed at my shoulder in case she needed a visual reminder. If I held a grudge against everyone who shot me I wouldn't have time for much else.

"Yeah, but you got to shoot him back." True. I pulled my PPQ out of my holster and offering it to her.

"You wanna shoot him? Trust me, it helps. It's like therapy only more gratifying." And a hell of a lot faster.

The brother's both tensed before Merle shot to his feet, waving his good hand at us while Daryl did his best to keep him in check. It wasn't until he realized I was holding a gun that his own self-preservation instincts kicked in. Simultaneously they took a step away from each other, their eyes wide, unsure who was the more likely candidate for target practice.

"Alex, put the gun away!" Rick shouted, exasperated, but not worried. That was fair. He hadn't even left the prison and I was already contemplating bodily harm after swearing I would behave. "Michonne, let's go."

"Another missed opportunity," I shrugged, holstering the weapon as she walked off and I started towards the cellblock door.

I stopped when she called out, "Alex!" Turning around she flashed me a genuine smile. "It's an eleven."

Crap. That's what I figured.

I watched their car until it disappeared down the road, sighing heavily. I resigned myself to a day spent trying to get the prison and its occupants ready for war. All while avoiding a certain redneck. Today was going to suck.

"Alex." I mumbled a string of cuss words under my breath as the man in question took his sweet ass time walking over to me. "Need to talk."

"Actually, we don't," I clarified. His face was impassive at the dismissal, but his eyes were piercing as he exhaled harshly.

"Ain't 'bout us." Since there was no _"us"_ to speak of that was a given. "While Rick's gone..."

"You keep your brother in check and I'll do the rest." I ignored the annoyance in his body language and plowed ahead. "There are exactly three people here who don't want him dead. Keeping him out of trouble is going to be a full-time job."

"Three?" he asked, puzzled as he tried to work out the math.

"You, me and Nugget," I clarified, using my fingers to count as I called out the names. "Although once she's is old enough to form opinion's I'm sure she'll want him dead just as much as everyone else so enjoy the respite while it lasts."

I wasn't sure how long it normally took kids to develop their "stranger danger" senses, but something told me Merle's personality would jump start the process in anyone.

"Ya don't want him dead?" He sounded surprised and more than a little suspicious.

I frowned, "No."

"But he shot ya."

Why did everyone keep bringing that up? Almost everyone I met tried to shoot me. The man standing in front of me included.

"Yes and I shot him. We're even. As long as he holds up his end of the deal I've got no beef with him."

His end of the deal being he didn't try to kill us and kept his crude gestures under 20 a day. We were still working on the second part. Rehabilitation was a marathon not a sprint.

I would never admit this out loud, but that wasn't the only reason. Merle was important to Daryl, the last of his family, and something befalling the asshole would destroy him. As much as I couldn't stand the sight of him at the moment I didn't want him to feel the agony of losing his brother. I wanted to despise my former flame for choosing his brother over our relationship, over the group, but I didn't. Love wasn't a switch you turned off on a whim. I could ignore it, I could even deny it, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling it.

That was the thing about love. It didn't care what you wanted. It paid no mind to convenience or timing, and didn't give a damn about your wants or needs. It just ambushed you, most often when you least expected it, turning your world upside down overnight. It sunk its claws into your flesh like a bird of prey. It was a virus without a cure. Not so different than the one that produced walkers.

Bottom line, in my limited experience, it pretty much sucked.

"I'm going to check the fence and try to figure out a way to defend this shithole. Everyone's already been given their tasks for the day and if by some miracle they get them all done they should study the escape plan." He looked like he wanted to say something, but snapped his mouth closed instead, giving me a curt nod. "Good."

It took the better part of the day to find and assess the numerous holes in our defenses. The prison may look like an impenetrable structure, but it had more holes than Swiss cheese. There was simply no way to cover them all and we didn't have the time or resources to block them off so there was only one viable option.

"So what do we do?" Glenn asked, staring at a rather large hole in a brick wall.

"Fatal funnel," I answered absently, already planning it mentally.

"Fatal what?" Maggie said.

I knelt down on the concrete, using the sidewalk chalk to illustrate my point. I quickly sketched out the general structure of the prison, taking care to prominently mark the main points of entrance and egress, as well as the holes in our defenses.

"We can't stop them from breaching the prison so if they come directly at us we need to force them into a location that gives us the tactical advantage." Using the chalk I sketched out a rough draft of my plan, using the debris to our advantage. Creating a maze they hopefully wouldn't see coming. "We lead them into one central location where our defenses are pre-positioned. Once we've herded them where we want them we pick them off one-by-one. We can take out a good portion of them here," I pointed to the entrance, "And the hallway is too narrow for them to backtrack quickly so with someone positioned at the other end of the hall they'll be trapped."

Glenn pointed at my rudimentary drawing, "So the entrance is the fatal funnel?"

"Exactly. In close quarters combat, especially in an urban environment, entry into a room or any confined space is the most dangerous aspect of the assault. We use that to our advantage. With speed, surprise and violence of action we gain the upper hand," I explained.

Glenn nodded, but looked worried while Maggie just looked worried.

"You said if," she stated. When I frowned at her she continued, "You said _if_ he decides to come right at us."

"Well, yeah, this," I waved my hand at the chalk drawing, "Only comes into play if he's stupid enough to storm the gates."

Maggie swallowed hard, "You don't think that's what he'll do?"

Honestly I had no idea what The Governor would do considering he was crazier than a sack full of cats, but I knew what I'd do.

"I wouldn't. It puts his people at risk unnecessarily."

"You think he cares about the welfare of his people?" Glenn scoffed.

"No, but he cares about his advantage which is numbers, and fighting us from the inside out puts that in jeopardy."

Maggie wrapped her arms around herself as she looked over her shoulder at Beth, Nugget and her dad. Sensing her distress Glenn pulled her to his side and I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. At first I thought it was jealousy I felt in the pit of my stomach as I watched the couple embracing, but that wasn't it at all. It was longing.

"So he'll attack from a distance?" It wasn't a question.

"Probably." But unlikely. "He has the resources to do it or he could simply starve us out, but he's too impatient for that. My gut says he'll come right at us. Either way we need to be ready so let's get this rat trap set up just in case."

They both nodded and walked away, heads leaned close together as they whispered. I desperately wished I could offer some semblance of reassurance, but the facts were irrefutable. We were outnumbered and outgunned and while that provided a target rich environment I was pretty sure I was the only one excited about that development. This place was just like the Alamo.

We needed a better plan. I wasn't lying when I told Glenn and Maggie we could take out a sizeable portion of their force with our current plan. What I hadn't mentioned was that it was a stopgap. Using our environment to our advantage only worked as long as we kept the high ground and had ammunition. The first could be wiped away with a lucky shot and no matter what Rick, Deadpool and Carl found today it wouldn't come close to matching The Governor's stores.

Squinting against the sun I made my way to the bleachers by the basketball court, watching Beth as she bounced Nugget on her knee. I sat down, my mind struggling to find a solution to our list of infinite problems. Where we had children and infants to protect The Governor did not. In fact, if my take on the man was correct they would be his first priority. Hit us where it would hurt the most, right in our hearts, which were the children. The thought made me furious, but it also made sense. The fact I knew that made me feel sick. The young were our pressure points and if he applied just the right amount of pressure it wouldn't matter what we did we wouldn't be unable to withstand the pain.

"Scared the shit outta those two."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head as a headache built behind my eyes. "Where's your babysitter?"

Merle laughed, sitting down beside me like we were old friends. "Ya got Darlina so tied up in knots he don't know his ass from a hole in the wall." What in the who? He laughed at my expression, "Damn Firecracker, yur more confused than a fart in a fan factory."

I sent him a withering glare, "You're doing that on purpose."

"Maybe," he snorted. "My brother may have mentioned yur trouble with simple southern phrases."

"First of all, it's not southern, its redneck. Don't try and make that shit sound classy." The smirk on his face made me want to slap him. "Second, there is nothing simple about your mother tongue."

"I could show you a thing or two with my tongue." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, shifting closer.

"I just threw up in my mouth."

He snorted, leaning away, crossing his arm and stump over his chest. "Go 'head, pretend yur immune to my charm."

I wasn't pretending. I honestly had yet to see anything resembling charm?

"Please stop talking. My upchuck reflex is pegged in the red."

He ignored me as I continued to gag, leaning back against the bleachers like a cat splayed in the sun. "I suppose it wouldn't be decent given we're family and all."

Oh. My. God.

At this point I would pay The Governor to lob a couple of grenades over the fence. Anything to end this conversation.

"You do realize we're not actually married, right?" And even if we were that barely qualified as family. If he heard me he showed no sign of it, continuing to bask in the sun with his eyes closed. "I only said that because I was desperate and took a chance you weren't a complete dick-bag."

Clearly I was wrong.

"First my tongue now my dick. What's my lil' brother gonna think when I tell him?"

I scrubbed my face with my hands in frustration. Talking to this man made beating your head against a wall seem sensible. The really disconcerting part was as hard as I tried, and I tried really freakin' hard, I didn't hate him. Sure he was an asshole, but he was my kind of asshole. I spent far too many years in the military to offend easily, and despite his numerous remarks about wanting to sleep with me I knew he wasn't interested. It was all an act, a barrier to keep people at arm's length. The crude jokes and obscene gestures were nothing more than a poorly deployed smoke screen. If you never let anyone in you never risked being hurt when they let you down. I knew all his tricks because I had the same ones in my tool kit. I saw his potential buried under all his crap even if he didn't. Convincing the rest of the group was a different animal all together.

"I will shoot you," I promised even though I wouldn't. Not unless he shot me again. Then all bets were off.

He cracked an eye open, "I ain't scared lil' sister. Ya may have my brother pussy whipped, but I ain't nobody's bitch."

Ah, the Dixon family motto.

"You should be Captain Hook. I'm not zip tied to a chair and there isn't an angry mob for me to fight through this time."

"Fair point," he conceded and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. Well, I was silent. I was pretty sure Merle was just asleep.

A few minutes later Daryl came tearing around the corner so fast I half expected a herd of walkers to follow in his wake. His eyes frantically scanned the courtyard until they landed on the bleachers and he froze, eyes wide as his head bobbed from his brother to me then back to his brother. He jogged over, stopping a few feet away, frowning as Merle snored next to me.

"Lose something?" I asked.

"He do anythin'?"

His eyes scanned me up and down. Looking for what I had no clue. If anything he should be checking Merle for mortal wounds. If we went head-to-head ala Mad Max Thunderdome it wouldn't be me that needed a stretcher when it was over.

"You mean other than his sleep apnea attracting a small herd?" I pointed to my right at the throng of walkers pressing against the fence. Daryl shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, the act so uncharacteristic for the normally confident man that I took pity on him. "He's fine. Nothing happened."

Other than some questionable conversation.

"I'll take him..."

"What is that?" I stood up shielding my eyes against the sun. "Is that a car?"

Daryl walked forward, his shoulder brushing mine as he used binocular to identify the object.

"Yeah."

Spinning around I yelled to Beth and Hershel, "Take Nugget and get inside, now!" Pulling the walkie talkie from my belt I pushed the talk button, "Maggie I need you in the West tower with a rifle. Glenn take the East."

"They're wavin' a white flag," Daryl said, handing me the binoculars.

When I looked I too saw a cut up white sheet tied to an old stick. Nugget could have made a better flag and she couldn't even hold her head up yet.

"Surrender?" That was hilarious. I wasn't buying it for a minute. With Beth, Hershel and Nugget safely tucked inside the prison I turned around, kicking Merle in the ribs with my foot. "Up and at 'em Captain Hook. Time to go to work."

The older hillbilly shot to his feet, disoriented, waving his knife stub around wildly as I stepped back to avoid a pointy object to the gut. My back collided with Daryl's solid chest, his hands grabbing my arms to steady me. Turning my head I looked over my shoulder and my mouth went dry. He was so close I felt his breath puff across my face. Swallowing hard I stepped out of his embrace, his arms dropping to his side instantly, face unreadable. I could feel the blush heating my own face as I unsuccessfully tried to stomp down my reaction to him. The feel of his body, his hands on my skin, his scent, it was enough to make me lightheaded.

"The fuck!" Merle hissed, and for the first time ever I was glad for the shit-show that was Merle Dixon. "The hell is goin' on?"

"Come on," I said by way of an answer, running towards the gate as we met up with Maggie and Glenn. Taking an extra rifle from Glenn I handed it to Merle. When Glenn opened his mouth to protest I put my hand up. "I don't want to hear it. We don't have time."

"What do they want?" Maggie asked, eyes locked on our uninvited guests.

"Nothin' good," Merle answered, the fog of sleep finally lifting.

"Andrea's with 'em," Daryl stated, looking through the binoculars again.

"Can't trust Sugar Tits."

"It pains me to say it, but I agree with him." I scrunched up my face up, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. Lord help me, I hope I never had to say that again.

"She's headed this way. Got someone with her."

I held a hand out, "Let me see." Daryl passed me the binoculars and I recognized the man instantly. "Martinez."

"Fuck Martinez," Merle snarled, his position on the Woodbury man crystal clear, but unreliable. Merle felt that way about everyone.

"Alright listen, Glenn, Maggie get in the towers and keep your weapons on them. If they make a move take them out." The couple split off, racing up their respective towers. If they had any qualms about killing Andrea they hid it well. I turned to the brothers. "Merle right side, Daryl left, find some cover in case things go sideways. I don't trust this. There might be people hidden in the woods waiting for some kind of signal before they attack."

Merle nodded once, heading off without a second glance, but Daryl didn't move an inch.

"What are ya gonna do?"

"I'm going to stay here and see what they want." Obviously.

"I ain't lettin' ya stay out here alone."

I rolled my eyes, "Guess it's a good thing I'm not asking your permission then."

"I'll stay. Ya take cover on the left," he offered, his voice desperate. Andrea and Martinez were halfway here.

"No offense Katniss, but your people skills leave a little to be desired." Not to mention if he stayed we would be obligated to provide a translator. He stepped towards me, eyes calculating, a small smile on his face I didn't understand. I leaned away from him in equal measure, confused. "What are you doing?"

He couldn't be that close to me. It made my brain go to mush which made it difficult to remember I hated him. Even my synapses thought he was smokin' hot.

"Called me Katniss," he grinned, pleased for reasons that defied explanation.

I shook my head, "Yes, I referred to you as a female bowman. Congratulations. Doesn't change a thing."

He visibly recoiled at my words, stepping away, all traces of humor erased in an instant. I wanted to take it back the moment I said it. The callousness of my tone hit him like a physical blow, and the hurt that flashed across his face pained me more than my still healing gunshot wound. I wanted him to back off and I got my wish. So why did I feel like shit? He gave me a brief nod before turning on his heel and jogging off to his assigned seat. Squeezing my eyes shut I took a few deep breaths telling myself it was for the best. Thankfully I was saved from further examination of my broken relationship by the arrival of Sugar Tits and Martinez.

"Alex," Andrea greeted me, her voice cold as she stood a few feet away from the gate, using an armless walker like mosquito repellent.

I raised my eyebrows at her before turning to her companion, "Martinez."

"Dixon."

My spine went rigid as Andrea's mouth dropped open in shock. This lie just wouldn't die. It was the universe's way of punishing me for lying. Payback was a bitch and her stripper name was Karma.

"You look like shit," I told him honestly, forcing my voice to stay level.

He shrugged, "You should see the other guy." Since I _was_ the other guy it didn't take a lot of imagination.

"How's Lucy?"

"Not so great," he said, his mock concern almost funny. He hated that douche almost as much as I did. "He's dead."

"Oh, that's too bad. Shit happens, right?"

Andrea's head whipped back-and-forth between us so quickly she was going to end up with whiplash.

"Yeah, knife to the ear. Could happen to anyone."

I smiled at that, throwing him a wink that made him smile slightly as he shook his head at our verbal sparing. Too bad Martinez was on the wrong side of this war. He was almost cool. Almost.

"Are you going to open the gate?" Andrea screeched, moving her walker repellent around in an effort to keep the dead at bay.

"Depends."

Martinez smirked like he expected nothing less while Andrea huffed in frustration, her eyes darting around at the walkers converging on them.

"On?" she prodded.

"What you want?"

"We want to talk," she huffed, both of them forced to move closer to the gate or lose a chunk of flesh.

"About?" I kept my tone casual, relaxed. I had all the time in the world. They, on the other hand, did not.

"Alex for god's sake!" she yelled, forced to swing out with her knife to take down a walker. Martinez jumped back, killing one of his own.

"Thanks to your boyfriend there's an endless supply where those came from so I'd get on with it if I were you."

Her eyes bulged as she came to the realization I wasn't opening the gate. "You're fucking crazy!"

"You came all this way to tell me something I already know?" She hauled the walker attached to the pole to the left to block the advance of a walker as she slashed at another trying to sneak up behind her. "On your left," I called out to her.

"You bitch!" she sneered, sinking her knife into the walker.

"Sticks and stones," I yawned, "Clocks ticking."

"Governor wants to meet," Martinez panted as he danced to his left to avoid the outstretched hands of a walker, smashing its head with a baseball bat.

"Why?"

"Work out a truce," he explained.

I may not be able to understand two words in redneck, but I was fluent in bullshit and this was about as big a load as I'd ever heard.

"When and where?" Martinez shouted the details as the two of them fought off the mass of walkers slowly, but surely surrounding them. "Is that all?"

"So you'll come?" Andrea asked, stumbling in her surprise.

"We'll talk it over," I said with a shrug. I didn't trust The Governor or his bullshit truce as far as I could throw them, but it wasn't up to me. "I'd head back to Psychoville before it's too late."

"Fuck you Alex!"

Andrea threw the halfhearted insult over her shoulder too preoccupied with making a clean getaway to put her heart and soul into it. She was shit out of luck this time around. Rick wasn't here so there would be no warm welcome, hot tea while we all caught up, or a convertible for her to ride home in. Get to steppin' bitch!

"See ya Martinez."

"Later Dixon."

It was gonna suck when I had to kill him.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, they made their way safely back to their vehicle and left without incident. Almost like they timed it Rick, Carl and Michonne came tearing around the corner just as soon as Andrea and Martinez were gone. At least I wouldn't have to wait long to rehash the meeting.

After unloading the trios impressive haul and listening to the shocking story regarding Rick's long, lost, comma friend I filled everyone in on the Woodbury "proposal". As expected the group was split, half wanting to take the meet and the other half thinking it was a trap. I kept my opinions to myself for the time being mainly because there was so much shouting already taking place no one would be able to hear me. I rubbed at my temples trying to soothe my headache as the voices echoed off the concrete walls.

"Enough!" Rick hollered and I winced from my spot against the wall. Blessedly everyone shut the hell up as our leader wrestled with indecision. "Daryl, Hershel, Alex let's talk outside."

Goodie.

I dutifully trudged behind as Rick led us out of the cellblock, climbing on top of the picnic table, legs crossed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and was only half listening as the guys continued on what was quickly becoming a never-ending merry-go-round of debate.

"If there's even a chance for peace we have to try."

I wasn't surprised at Hershel's stance on the matter. The man was a pacifist through and through. He made the Dalai Lama look aggressive.

"Daryl?"

I didn't need to look up to know the redneck was standing a few feet away from me biting on his thumbnail. I also didn't need a Magic 8 ball to know what he thought.

"Feels like a trap," he mumbled.

Rick sighed, the click of his cowboy boots on the concrete as he paced almost hypnotic. "You're awfully quiet Alex."

"Yeah," I muttered under my breath, putting my hands underneath my chin as I looked at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "Well? What do you think? Peace or ambush?"

"Neither."

"Neither," he repeated, perplexed. "Care to elaborate?" No, not really. I wanted an Advil and sleep.

Dropping my head back into my hands I inhaled deep, holding it for a beat before letting exhaling slowly, rubbing soothing circles on my temple.

"He won't attack at the meet, but he'll never honor any agreement."

"What makes you say that?" Hershel asked, genuinely intrigued. "Why go through all the trouble to set up a meeting if he's just going to attack no matter what?"

"Rick," I answered. "He wants to meet Rick, face-to-face, size him up."

"That seems a little farfetched," the old man commented.

I shook my head, instantly regretting it. Ouch.

"That's because you're trying to rationalize the actions of a psychopath. Don't." Lifting my head I looked at the three men. "You're in my world now and trust me when I tell you there's no negotiating with him. War _is_ inevitable. The meeting has nothing to do with finding common ground and he has no desire to kill us until he's gotten what he needs which is confirmation he's the better man. Killing us at the initial meeting won't satisfy his homicidal urges. This is all a game to him. He needs the pieces arranged to his liking before he starts taking people out."

Rick absorbed my assessment the same as the others with a stony face and obvious skepticism. I didn't envy the man this decision. All he could do was listen to the advice of those he trusted, which I suppose was the three of us, and then make the call. He walked away, hands on his hips as he thought it over. In my humble opinion his biggest fault in this was trying to make the "right" decision. That was impossible because there was no right or wrong. A few minutes later he returned and I could tell by the look on his face he reached a verdict.

"We go," he said bluntly. No one asked for further elaboration, but he felt the need to provide it. "If there's even a chance we can avoid a war we have to try."

"Agreed." Hershel.

"Yeah." Daryl.

"Sure," I said last.

I might not think the meeting would yield the results he was hoping for, but it wasn't a lost cause. There was a plethora of intel we could gather from a meeting like this. It would give us a better foundation to plan and hopefully anticipate his next moves. It wasn't much, but I'd made due with less.

"Alright, it's settled. I'll tell the others. I want you three to go with me. I'll leave Glenn in charge here while we're gone." He looked pointedly at Daryl, "Your brother gonna be a problem?"

If my head wasn't pounding like a jackhammer I would have laughed. Of course he was going to be a problem. Especially with Glenn at the helm. Those two weren't exactly BFF's.

"I'll talk to him." That would work as well as bicycle peddles on a wheelchair.

"Good. Let's get some rest. I want to leave early tomorrow so we can beat The Governor to the meeting place."

Hershel and Rick's voices faded as they walked away, but I didn't move other than to lie down on the picnic table. It was chilly and the table was hard as a rock, but it was better than moving at the moment.

"See the big dipper?"

His question caught me off guard. I hadn't heard him leave, but stealth and Daryl was nothing new. I didn't take my eyes off the night sky as I answered him.

"Still looks like a cowboy riding a bull to me."

He chuckled and I was hit with a pang of nostalgia. It wasn't that long ago we had the same conversation. The only difference now being the ending would be drastically different. Why did that bother me? He was the one who left me. He was the one who broke his promises. I should loath the sight of him, but instead I felt only a desire to be close to him. Every second of every day I had to fight the urge to forgive him, to jump in his arms and believe his apology with every fiber of my being. My heart thought it was a brilliant idea. My head, not so much.

The question wasn't whether or not I could forgive him. It was whether or not I could forget.

As much as I wanted to forget, find a way to move on with him, I couldn't, mainly because I still didn't understand why he'd done it. Simply coming back wasn't enough for me. It wasn't an answer for why. It did nothing to restore my trust in him, his words, our relationship. I wasn't even sure he had come back for me. The road was a dangerous place with a low chance of survival. It only made sense to buy as much time behind our rickety fences as possible.

I shook my head at the thoughts. That wasn't Daryl. Merle sure, but not his brother. Daryl was a flawed man, but he held tight to his principles and loyalty was at the top of that list. Evidently his loyalty to the group far outweighed his loyalty to me which as much as it hurt to admit didn't surprise me. Leaving like he did would never be something he could live with given his strict moral code. I could see his brother using the prison as a landing pad until something better came along, but not Daryl.

If he'd given me the chance I would have told him the decision to leave would never sit right with him, but therein laid the problem. He hadn't. We were supposed to be a team, but he'd bailed the first time another path presented itself. It made me question every moment we shared. It made our entire relationship feel like a sham. The only thing I'd ever asked of him was to talk to me, for us to work through whatever we faced together, and he failed me. I just didn't have it in me to trust another person who was capable of hurting me like that. I wasn't strong enough to handle him leaving again so I held him at arm's length to protect myself.

"Here." Turning my head I saw him holding out his hand. He clearly saw my confusion, sighing as he stepped forward and gently took my hand, dropping two white pills in my palm. "Saw ya rubbin' yur head earlier so I asked Hershel for somethin'."

I sat up slowly, this time not because of my head, but because of shock. It was things like this, these tiny gestures from him, that threatened to weaken my resolve. It was so thoughtful, so sweet that it only served to further confuse me. Why do things like this? Daryl wasn't nearly as gruff as he pretended to be, but the fact he noticed the little things, like my raging headache, made him more of a mystery to me. He still watched over me like before, but why? The purple and black bruise lining his jaw made my stance on our non-relationship clear.

"Uh...thanks." I stumbled over the words, unable to hold his penetrating gaze.

For about the millionth time since he came storming back to the prison in the middle of a battle he looked like wanted to say something, something meaningful, something that might change everything, but like every other time he snapped his jaw closed in frustration. Maybe he couldn't find the words? Maybe there were no words? Maybe his courage failed him? I didn't know and it appeared I would never find out.

He walked away, heading back inside the cellblock without a word, and I once again found myself staring at his retreating angel wings. I could have called out to him, stopped him. I might not know what he was thinking, but I knew what he was offering, an olive branch, a way to mend our fractured relationship. Problem was I couldn't take it. I told myself it was because he didn't deserve another chance, that we were in the middle of a war and there was no time for such trivial things, that I was too damn tired to open that can of worms. I told myself a lot of things, but only one rang true.

I wasn't ready.

 _"It's not the future you're afraid of. It's the fear of the past repeating itself that haunts you."_

* * *

 **This is the calm before the storm. As you all know a lot is about to happen in a very short period of time. Don't worry, our favorite couple is working towards their happy ever after, but much like the beginning of their relationship it's gonna take time. Please stick with me...I promise it will be worth it :)**


	31. Half Truths and Whole Lies

**Half Truths and Whole Lies**

I never took a road trip when I was a kid.

Mostly because my father was Satan incarnate so "fun things" like family vacations weren't in his wheelhouse. The man never met a phone book he didn't want to throw at my head so there was zero chance the two of us got into a small, metal, motorized vehicle for an extended period time without someone dying along the way.

After he kicked the bucket, taking my mother with him, my sister and I were shipped off to live with my mother's parents. We celebrated one death with a party and the other with a funeral before boarding a plane to our new life. I was giddy with excitement the entire way recalling my mother's infamous stories about her "family adventures" when she was a little girl. My grandparents took her camping at the Grand Canyon, white water rafting in Colorado and even to the happiest place on Earth, Graceland. Unfortunately but understandably by the time we moved in they were too old and money was too tight for such extravagances.

As an adult I traveled all over the world, but that wasn't my idea of a road trip. One, I rarely drove so technically I wasn't sure it even qualified and let's be honest a HALO drop into a communist occupied country wasn't on anyone's bucket list.

Since the world ended it felt like I was on a never-ending road trip and honestly I felt a little cheated. First and foremost it wasn't fun. Second, we never went anywhere worth seeing, if such places even existed anymore. Lastly, being stuck in a car with family ranked one step above fighting through a herd of walkers blindfolded. One, small step.

I was no expert, but I was almost certain today's venture would technically qualify as a bonafide road trip. It contained all the necessary elements I'd been led to believe all road trips possessed.

Stuck in a car with family? Check.

Driving somewhere that takes longer than an hour to get to? Check.

Having to pee, but there was nowhere to stop? Check.

Listening to something that could only loosely be described as music? Check.

"Oh this is a good one," Rick hummed, cranking up the volume on our puny car radio.

He bobbed his head and snapped his fingers along with the beat, but I didn't hear music coming out of the speakers. I heard animals dying. I would take Nugget's midnight wailing over this crap any day of the week. Even Hershel cringed when the banjo kicked into overdrive. What kind of music even incorporated banjos? And was that…a kazoo? When you put it all together it sounded like a bunch of cows were being slaughtered while seagulls squawked overhead.

Sighing I let my head fall against the seat as I watched Daryl on his bike in front of us. So close yet so incredibly far away. I was full of cheesy metaphors where that man was concerned. Currently, our relationship was the emotional equivalent of offering someone a handshake only to end up in a half-hug, half-handshake situation, awkward and unavoidable. However, all things considered I would take the awkward emotional hug/handshake over riding in a confined space with Rick in control of the music.

I should have sucked it up and accepted his offer when we left the prison. It wasn't like riding a bike was conducive to talking, and I could bitch slap my dick sharpener into submission if she decided to get frisky due to his close proximity. It wouldn't be the first time (or the last) since Daryl and I parted ways that I got all tingly when he was within 100 miles of me. I was starting to think it was a permanent medical condition. I'd even buckled and asked Hershel if there was anything he could give me that would make me less slutty. His response was to pick up his Bible and pray for a solid hour. I took that as a firm no.

I groaned as Rick tipped his head back belting out something that sounded like he was dying a slow, painful, excruciating death. I'd heard captives make similar noises under duress so I would know.

"Do you think Glenn will be able to contain Merle?" Hershel asked, more to get Rick to shut the hell up than because he was interested in his answer. Everyone knew Glenn couldn't contain the elder Dixon, even Glenn.

Rick reluctantly turned down the dying cow music. "I have my doubts."

I shook my head, wiggling my fingers in my eardrum as I opened and closed my mouth a few times like you did when you needed to pop your ears trying to get the squawking seagull to stop. Looking up I found Rick turned slightly in his seat looking at me expectantly while Hershel eyed me with sympathy in the rear-view mirror.

"What?" I said a little too loud. Not my fault. My ears were bleeding.

"Hershel was asking about Merle," he tried again.

"What about him?" My ears finally popped and while the seagulls didn't disappear completely they were blissfully quieter. Hopefully, migrating south for the winter.

"Is he going to be a problem?" I gave him a droll look and he amended his statement, "Right. Is he going to be a problem _today_?"

I blew out a puff of air, stretching my arms across the backseat. "He's more pissed his brother's out here without him than anything." At least that was my take on it when he screamed in my face he was, _"I'm fuckin' pissed I'm stuck at the prison while Darlina sticks his neck out for a bunch of pussies"_ , but really that could mean anything. "He thinks we should pretend to have a cordial sit-down and put a bullet in The Governor's forehead when he's not looking."

"Do you think he'll actually try something?" Hershel asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"He can't pull it off alone and he knows that." Merle was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid, despite popular opinion. "My guess is he'll try to abscond with Deadpool. She hates The Governor just as much, if not more, than him."

Rick's face hardened as he turned around in his seat, "That could be a problem."

"I wouldn't worry about it," I said lightly.

"Why's that?"

"The only person Deadpool hates more than The Governor is Merle. Besides, I talked to her before we left. She knows what to expect from him and what the fallout will be if she leaves." She may want The Governor dead, but she didn't trust Merle watching her back while she attempted it. Hershel raised an eyebrow and I held my hands up, "What? Impressed with my foresight?"

"I'm impressed you know what the word abscond means," he grinned.

"SAT word."

I'd only taken the test because my grandmother drug me there by my hair kicking and screaming.

"I didn't know you went to college?" Hershel, always the optimist.

I snorted, "I said I took the SATs not that I'm a Road Scholar."

"So you didn't go to college?" he pressed.

"No."

I could have, but I was too unstable and too angry at the time to think clearly about my future. I didn't want to do anything that was expected of me so when the college acceptance letters came pouring in the first thing I did was walk to the nearest military recruiting office and raise my right hand. It was a rash decision, a futile attempt to outrun the ghosts of my past, but for the first time in my life I got to make my own choice. By the time I made it home just after the sun went down college was no longer an option.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hershel said softly.

"All things considered I'd say it worked out in my favor, don't you think?"

He eyed me again in the mirror, "I went to college and it comes in pretty handy."

Touché.

"Hershel, trust me, I would not have gone that route."

I would have majored in something like underwater basket weaving and died five minutes into the apocalypse.

"We're here," Rick announced.

Glancing out the front window I saw a row of huge, rusted silos next to a long abandoned barn covered mostly in ivy. This place looked like somewhere the Boogie Man would vacation. Daryl pulled his bike to a stop, climbing off and making his way to the car as I climbed out, weapon in my hand. It was quiet, so quiet it made my Spidey senses tingle as I looked around our immediate surroundings. Rick motioned for me to follow him and I nodded, stopping in front of Hershel briefly.

"Be ready and stay in the car until you get the OK."

He nodded grimly, grabbing his semi-automatic rifle from in-between the seats and pointing it out the window.

I jogged after Rick and Daryl, following the redneck as he led us down a narrow path between the silos and molded, cinder block walls of the barn. Daryl stopped at the edge of the building, motioning with his hand ahead of him. Another set of barely standing buildings lay up ahead, but we took the least direct route, zig-zagging between the massive silos, using them as cover. I kept my PPQ raised, checking every corner and hiding spot for the living and the dead, but found nothing.

I kept pace behind both men as we ran towards the designated meeting spot, but as we got closer Daryl slowed, squatting down next to a dead walker. I bent down on the other side, examining the corpse with a critical eye, my unease magnified a thousand times over. It was fresh, the blood on its face still viscous as it slowly seeped into its hairline. Daryl swiped a finger through the gore, rubbing it between his fingers, his face thoughtful. When he looked up at me I nodded, pointing at the building directly in front of him and he frowned.

He was already here.

Rick pointed at Daryl then motioned to the right before directing me to the opposite side of the building. He headed straight towards the barn door that was purposefully left ajar. I didn't like this. We were at least half an hour early and The Governor had been here long enough to kill a walker and take up residence inside the building. We officially lost the tactical advantage, if we even had it to begin with.

As I crept around the far side of the building I suddenly wished I had Deadpool's samurai sword. The weeds and bushes were just an extension of the woods on this side of the building, and I couldn't take two steps without having to hack away at vines or take a two mile detour around dense foliage when there was no way through. I cursed as a thorny bush scrapped against my exposed arms for the zillionth time. Why did Daryl get to check the side of the building with no vegetation and I was left schlepping my way through the Amazon jungle? Life was so unfair.

"Son of a dick," I grumbled as my pants snagged on yet another thorn. It took a few seconds and several pricks to my fingers to dislodge the blasted weed. "I hate nature."

I finally made it out of the rain forest and to the opposite side of the building, checking the perimeter briefly before inspecting my fingertips. They looked like a diabetic who went overboard checking their blood sugar.

"Ya a'right?" Daryl asked and I glanced up at him.

"Fine."

"He's already in there," he said as Hershel pulled up in the car. No real surprise there. That walker didn't stab itself in the head. "Sat down with Rick."

"I don't see any cars," Hershel noted and I scanned up and down the road. This shit just got better and better.

"It don't feel right," Daryl admitted, "Keep it runnin'."

The roar of an engine in the distance made me tense, stepping forward with my weapon raised as Daryl came up beside me, his crossbow ready.

"Here they come," I whispered.

Daryl patted the hood of the car, "Heads up."

An SUV came barreling towards us from the opposite side of the road, whizzing between discarded tractors and farm equipment like someone playing Grand Theft Auto. I could see at least three occupants in the vehicle being jostled around as the idiot driver did everything but donuts before stopping in the middle of the road. Two doors opened almost at once, the occupants stepping out of the car and onto the road.

Andrea and Martinez.

Daryl angled his weapon towards the driver's side, right at Martinez's head as I kept my PPQ aimed at Andrea. She gave me a withering glare and I shrugged in return. If she was expecting a warm welcome she was delusional. She chose the wrong side in this war. Finally the third occupant exited the vehicle and I raised my eyebrows at her.

"What's up with Mr. Rogers?" I questioned, gesturing to the guy who looked like he walked off the pages of the _Think Geek_ catalog.

He made Pee-wee Herman look like Rico Suave. She rolled her eyes as she glanced at him, waving her hand at him as her way of saying she didn't get it either. Look at us, finding common ground already.

"What the hell? Why's yur boy already in there?"

Daryl's question was directed at Andrea, but his eyes never left Martinez. Martinez for his part didn't look the least bit concerned with the redneck's twitchy trigger finger. Not the brightest light bulb in the box that one.

Andrea's steps faltered, "He's here?"

"Yep." If Martinez's shit-eating grin was anything to go by he wasn't at all surprised. "Alex?"

It tasted like I was chewing on dirt as I said it, but I answered his unspoken question.

"Andrea didn't know." Her head swiveled to mine, shock on her face. "The oxygen thief over there, not so much."

Martinez shot me a cocky grin, throwing in a wink just to cement the evidence he was a real jack-wagon.

"Good to see ya again Dixon." Oh someone kill me now.

Daryl's body flinched ever-so-slightly at the moniker, no one except me noticing, but he said noting. I was thankful for his discretion. Now was not the time or place to finalize our fake divorce so we could end our fake marriage.

"Wish I could say the same."

He laughed and I rolled my eyes. It was gonna be a long fucking day. Andrea took a moment to look between Daryl and me, about 10,000 questions blazing in her eyes, but I kept my face blank, lowering my weapon. She huffed, striding past me towards the building.

"They don't need her in there," Martinez commented unnecessarily. Was she needed anywhere she went?

I noticed Martinez hadn't even bothered to draw a weapon and I doubted Mr. Rogers knew how to use one so standing around with our booger fingers on the bang switch was a waste of time. No doubt we would eventually be shooting each other full of holes, but today wasn't that day.

"No shit," I replied, holstering my weapon as I made my way to our car, climbing onto the hood and leaning against the windshield.

Daryl finally lowered his crossbow, but refused to give up one inch of ground, pacing back-and-forth endlessly in front of the car. Martinez leaned against his vehicle casually, his every present smirk plastered on his face as Mr. Rogers worked on his book report.

"Are you sleeping?" Hershel asked from beside me.

"No," I answered without opening my eyes. "I'm checking my eyelids for light leaks."

"Maybe I should go inside," Hershel suggested, ignoring my lack of concern over Martinez and Mr. Rogers killing us. His comment was meant for Daryl and me, but it was Mr. Rogers who spoke up.

"The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately."

This time I did open my eyes, interlacing my fingers as I put my hands behind my head, studying the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl's already limited patience was hanging by a very thin thread.

"Milton Mamet," he answered, completely oblivious the contempt dripping from the surly redneck's voice.

Daryl drug his teeth over his lips, agitated. "Great, he brought his butler."

I laughed as did Martinez. I knew I liked him for a reason. Daryl shot me a sly grin as I tried to reign in my giggles, but between the guy's name and his outfit it wasn't happening anytime soon. Hershel sent me a disapproving look, but I waved my hand at the man. His pants were starched for heaven's sake. What did he expect from me? I didn't have an endless reservoir of control and as it so happened when someone wore a pressed, button down, striped shirt tucked into dangerously starched pants with a 1990's woven belt I had zero control. It took me at least 10 minutes to gather myself. If I hadn't forced myself to stop looking at the crease in his pant legs I may have never stopped. It was the most ridiculous thing I had seen since I met The Governor sporting a sweater vest.

"I'm his advisor," Milton said, his eyes never leaving his small notebook.

"What kind of advice?" Daryl hissed.

"Tax season is a real bitch," I interjected.

Martinez snorted as Milton looked at me, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I'm not an accountant." His face was dead serious. The joke flying so far over his head he would need a spacesuit to reach it. I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up which made him frown even more. "I help with planning, biters, ah…you know, I'm sorry, I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchman."

Strike one.

I reached for my PPQ, but Hershel's hand stopped me and I practically growled in frustration. I may not currently like Daryl, but no one got to make fun of him except me. Daryl stalked forward, a menacing look on his face.

"Ya better watch yur mouth Sunshine."

My velvet glove sent a zing of pleasure through my body in appreciate of the gruff display of…manhood? I gave her a stern ' _down'_ command, adjusting my body and cracking my knuckles as I tried to stamp down the blush I felt creeping across my face. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. Hot, cold, excited. Like an itch I couldn't quiet scratch only I knew exactly who could and I huffed out an annoyed breath. Bottom line, my velvet glove was a complete hoe-bag and because of that I was going to suffer for the rest of the afternoon.

"You gonna help with this?" Martinez asked me, hooking a thumb in Daryl's general direction.

That was hilarious. One, no I most certainly was not going to stop him from tearing Milton's limbs from their sockets like a Wookie. Two, short of shooting him I couldn't stop him even if I wanted to and I didn't feel like shooting anybody right now.

"Nope." I took extra care to really pop the 'p' just to piss him off.

He sighed, redirecting his attention to Daryl. "Look, if you and I are gonna be out here all day pointing guns at each other do me a favor." He paused dramatically, sizing up the man in front of him. "Shut your mouth."

As predicted Daryl didn't appreciate the comment. He was in Martinez's face in two, long, angry strides.

"Can of beans says Daryl whoops his ass," I whispered to Hershel who shook his head at me, hobbling forward on his crutches.

"We don't need this," he told the pair. "If all goes south in there we'll be at each others' throats soon enough."

He said "if" like there was an actually chance this ended without a war.

Daryl and Martinez eyed each other for another few seconds before separating. Men were such posers. They all thought they were such tough shit, but until I saw one push a human out of their vagina I refused to be impressed.

Now that the theatrics had died down I decided to resume my nap, but no sooner had I closed my eyes before Andrea came stomping out of the building. All eyes turned to her and she swallowed hard under scrutiny before taking a seat on a bench, frustration making her body sag. She'd clearly been dismissed from negotiations and didn't like it one bit. It was both amusing and sad she felt she held any sway over the man she was sleeping with. He didn't give a rat's ass what she thought. Everyone knew that except her.

We had nothing but time on our hands while Rick and The Governor pretended to negotiate, and each person used that time in vastly different ways. Daryl paced and huffed and grunted just to make sure everyone understood he was frustrated. Hershel stood in stoic silence. Martinez hummed tunes I couldn't quiet place. Andrea mourned her crap taste in men. I napped.

"There's no reason not to use this time we have together…explore the issues ourselves." This was Milton "The Butler" Mamet's way to pass the time.

"Boss said we sit tight and shut up," Martinez barked at the butler.

Daryl bristled, "Dontcha mean _The Governor_?"

Pissing contest number three underway.

"It's a good thing that they're sitting down," Milton continued, oblivious to the tension. "Especially after what happened. They're going to work it out. Nobody wants another battle."

I sat up, cocking my head to the side as I looked at him. His posture was relaxed, his face an open book. He wasn't lying. He genuinely believed what he was saying which was disconcerting. The Governor had these people snowed. They had no idea the monster they were backing in this race.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a battle," Daryl taunted.

"I would call it a battle and I did. I…recorded it." He held up a notebook.

Strike two.

"You recorded it?" I repeated slowly in utter disbelief and he nodded enthusiastically. "Did you get the part where your people ambushed us and shot at children?"

Daryl's eyes shifted to me, but my gaze was locked on Milton. I was standing so close to Axel when he took a bullet between the eyes his blood splashed across my face. I used his dead body as a shield to protect Carol as gunfire rained down on us. I watched helplessly as Beth and Carl ran for cover, a bullet missing the little boy I loved by less than an inche. Were those details in his little notebook?

"I…I…did," he stuttered, unable to hold my stare.

Blood pounded in my ears, my heart thudding in my chest as my eyes lost focus. I was no longer outside the meet waiting on Rick and The Governor. I was back at the prison watching Hershel lie helplessly on the ground as walkers closed in all around him. I felt the panic that had clawed at my throat and the sweat that had trickled down the side of my face when I noticed Rick trapped on the wrong side of the fence, out of ammo, walkers pouring out of the woods like a dam breaking. I flinched as I remembered the bullet ripping through my skin, tearing at my flesh, the warm blood spilling down my side.

"Red."

Daryl's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it snapped me out of the memory. I felt dizzy as I came back to myself, refocusing on his face and trying to push the sights and sounds from that day to the back of my mind. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if I was alright. Taking a measured breath I nodded. He hesitated for a beat, not believing me for a second, but knowing there was nothing he could do about it now or ever. It was another reminder of how we got here. He didn't have any of those memories because he wasn't there, not until the end. My eyes dropped to the hood of the car and he sighed, turning around to face Milton.

"Why ya writin' it down?"

"Somebody's got to keep a record of what we've gone through. It'll be a part of our history."

"That makes sense," Hershel agreed.

"Axel," I spoke up.

"Excuse me?" Milton shifted his weight nervously as he addressed me.

"If you're going to keep a record you better make sure it's right." My hands were trembling so I curled them in my jeans. "The man you killed that day…his name was Axel."

Milton nodded slowly, opening his stupid notebook and scribbling down the name. He looked almost giddy as he closed it, taking Hershel concurrence and my comment as an invitation to continue. I couldn't speak for the old man, but Mr. Rogers could take his history book and shove it where the sun didn't shine.

"I've got dozens of interviews…."

He was cut off by the unmistakable sound of walkers growling in the distance. It was a welcomed distraction. Martinez, Andrea and Daryl all moved forward instantly, weapons drawn, ready to charge. I kept my ass planted on the hood of the car. Judging by the sound there were only a few of them over there, hardly enough to warrant sending in the cavalry. Carl could handle whatever was over there in five minutes with nothing but a shovel.

"You coming?" Martinez asked.

"Uh no, that's not a question I need answered." I crossed my legs at the ankle. "I measured my dick this morning, but you girls have fun."

Martinez howled with laughter, looking at Daryl with admiration. "I think I'm in love with your wife."

Daryl shot him a look so toxic it could peel paint off a wall as he passed by the man, deliberately bumping him with his shoulder. Andrea followed, a bite sized pocket knife in her hand and I shook my head. That woman was forever trying to measure her dick and failing to realize she lacked the hardware.

"You don't think it's best if you help?" Milton muttered, eyes still fixed across the street like we might be facing a herd instead of a few stragglers. The man needed more time outside the wire.

"He's talking to you Hershel."

"No, no, I wasn't…" he stuttered, looking at the old man's stump then immediately looking away embaressed.

"Calm down son," Hershel chided, sending me a look that screamed behave.

I held my hands up in surrender, crossing my arms over my chest as I tried again to catch up on my beauty sleep. One minute. That was how long Milton was able to contain himself before firing up the second round of the Spanish Inquisition.

"May I ask how you lost your leg?"

"I was bit," Hershel answered distractedly, reading Milton's history book.

"So…you cut off your leg to keep the infection from spreading?" No, he cut it off because having two was just too easy. "Interesting. How long after the initial bite?"

"Immediately."

"You didn't bleed out?"

"Had a tourniquet on before so that helped," he said nonchalantly. "Plus, we have good people. They took care of me."

"That was quick thinking," Milton mused. "You have doctors?"

"No, we learn by trial and error." That was a true statement if I ever heard one. "Alex has some medical training as do my daughters. It helps."

There was a lull in the conversation and I knew what was headed my way.

"Alex, um…I would love it if…"

"No."

I heard the crunch of gravel as he stood up, "I was there, at the pit, when The Governor…" I turned my head to the side and he flinched. "I, uh, apologize for what happened, but you have unique skills and I would love to interview you, about what you did before…and after."

Strike three.

He gave me a creepy smile meant to sway me and when I didn't immediately shoot down the idea or him his face brightened. He shifted his weight forward, his arms swinging as he started to take a step in my direction. Before his brain could finish sending the signal to his body to move I had my PPQ out and aimed at his head, finger around the trigger as I squeezed lightly.

"If you so much as breathe another word in my general direction I'll put a bullet in your forehead," I promised.

This guy had some kind of nerve. He'd been there when The Governor ordered every man at his disposal to attack me for his own amusement. He stood by as I fought for my life and the life of my friends, doing absolutely nothing, but recording it in his fucking notebook.

Hershel licked his thumb, casually looking down at the notebook and flipping a page. "I'd heed her warning if I were you son."

Milton collapsed on the bench in a heap, his breathing labored as he covered his heart with his hands. I holstered my weapon, wiggling around on the hood as I tried to get comfortable before closing my eyes. I tried to tune them out as they droned on about science and experiences, but almost laughed out loud when Milton asked to see Hershel's stump. I did chuckle when the old man asked for a drink in exchange for showing a little skin.

Andrea finally came back from the boy's night out, still fuming, but whether it was from the walkers or her psychotic boyfriend's dismissal was anyone's guess. Hershel limped over to her. No doubt in an effort to ease whatever burden she carried. That man had a soft spot for troubled souls. I would know. I must have dozed off for real because the next thing I heard was Hershel's shaking me awake.

"What?" I shot straight up, eyes alert as I looked around wildly for any danger. Spotting Hershel I raised my eyebrows, repeating my question, "What?"

"You should talk to her?" He nodded at Andrea sulking on her bench.

"Why?"

"Because she might listen to you."

"Listen to me about what?" Either it was taking me longer than normal to wake up or Hershel was talking in code.

"She's one of us," he began and I made a face. He pursed his lips, "She was part of this group before you. She sacrificed herself for Carol at the farm. She's family."

I shrugged, "More like a second cousin twice removed."

"That's still family," he told me sternly.

"Are you asking me to ease her guilty conscious or Jedi mind trick her into coming back with us?" I didn't like either option frankly.

"Both." Oh, well good. This should be easy then.

Because I knew he wouldn't let it go and I absolutely despised letting him down I slide off the hood and made my way to her. Not without a considerable amount grumbling mind you. Girls gotta have _some_ pride. She didn't look up as I flopped down on the bench beside her, huffing out an annoyed breath as I stretched my legs out in front of me.

"Hershel make you come over?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She nodded, kicking the rocks at her feet. When several minutes passed in silence she looked at me expectantly.

"Are you going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "I know you don't like me Alex so why don't you save us both some time and leave."

"Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I want you dead." Which couldn't be said for everyone I disliked. Just as The Governor.

"So what do you want?"

I tilted my head to look at her, "It's not what I want. It's what you want."

"I don't know," she sighed, dropping her head in defeat.

"Therein lies the problem." The guys still weren't back from killing a few measly walkers and I tried to stomp down the worry gnawing at my gut. Daryl didn't need it nor did he deserve it. "You need to make a decision Andrea and time's running out."

We'd been baking in the southern heat for well over an hour now. Rick and The Governor would be wrapping things up any minute. You could only sit inside for so long pretending to negotiate a fake truce. I would know. I had a fake marriage on my rap sheet.

"It's not that easy," she insisted.

I huffed, "Yes it is. You're either with us or against us. Those are the only two options on the table."

She was silent for so long I wasn't sure she was going to respond.

"Why do you hate me?"

I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake the shit out of her. Of all the things to worry about that was what she focused on. Unreal! That fucking question was why I couldn't stand her. Here we were at the end of the world, on the verge of war no less, and she wanted to know why I didn't like her.

A different person, a better person, would ease into their answer. Take a moment to collect their thoughts and answer in a way that spared the other person as much pain as possible while still getting their point across.

I wasn't that person.

"Because you're weak." Her head snapped to me, eyes filled with fury, mouth already opening to refute my statement, but I held up a hand, stopping her. "Yes, you got left behind on the farm and that sucks, but that's not the end of your story much as you like to think it is. Deadpool found you, helped you, protected you, and against all odds you found another family." Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't look away. Good. She needed to hear this. "You had a choice at Woodbury. Leave with her, the woman who saved your life when she could have easily left you for dead, or comfort."

"It was more than comfort," she insisted, her anger deflating like a popped balloon. "I wanted a life."

"No, you wanted a world where you could pretend this," I waved my hand around, "Doesn't exist. You traded a friend for a warm bed, a hot meal, and a sorry piece of ass." Her face went pale, her body shaking. "I don't like you because I can't trust you. Your loyalty can be bought."

"The others trusted me…Carol…she trusts me," she whimpered.

"And that's why we're talking. I don't like you, but Carol does and you saved her life so here I am, trying to save yours in return." She hunched forward, holding her head in her hands as she cried quietly. "You've always been focused on the wrong things. Killing walkers, being able to shoot a gun, wield a knife, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if you don't know why you're fighting and you, Andrea, have no idea why you're fighting."

"I'm fighting to survive," she insisted.

I took a moment to look at her, really look at her, and all I saw was a shattered, broken woman who had no idea what she wanted.

"What's the point if there's no one left you care about when it's over?" I stood up, wiping my hands on my jeans. "You're wrong thinking you have no choice in this. Choice is _all you have_. You just have to find the courage to make it."

I walked away, but stopped when she called out to me, glancing over my shoulder.

"Congratulations." When I frowned in confusion she added, "You and Daryl. I would have never guessed…I'm happy for you…just, congratulations."

"Right," I mumbled, righting my footing at the last second before I fell flat on my face. I ignored the watchful eyes of Daryl who recently sauntered back with Martinez in toe, some kind of macho understanding reached between the two dickheads.

Moments later the door of the barn slide open, The Governor walking out with a grin on his face looking really proud of himself which all things considered didn't sound too hard. I tracked his every move as he made his way to their vehicle, hand hovering over my PPQ. The clicking of Rick's high heels sounded moments later and I scanned him from head-to-toe looking for any sign of injury, and finding none. The group broke apart as we all headed to our respective vehicles, and I found myself watching Andrea.

She stood motionless as everyone dispersed, frozen by indecision and the proverbial line in the sand. She looked at me, terrified, but I made no move one way or the other. This had to be her decision. Not mine. Not Hershel's. Not Carol's. It wouldn't work any other way. The roar of Daryl's motorcycle startled her as a gush of air rushed from her lungs before she turned on her heel and made a beeline for The Governor. My lips thinned as I watched her, but she never looked back.

"Good to see you again Alex!" The Governor hollered adding an overly friendly wave like we were old friends.

"Go fuck yourself Philip!"

I scratched an imaginary itch on my eyebrow with my middle finger and he cackled like the raging psychopath he was, revving the engine and tearing down the road leaving a trail of dust and leaves in his wake.

"Was that necessary?" Rick asked, leaning against the driver's side door, a hand cocked on his hip.

I shrugged, "It's hot, I'm hungry and he sucks, so yeah."

"Let's go!" Daryl shouted above the roar of his bike.

The ride back was spent in silent contemplation, and by that I meant Rick and Hershel contemplated _whatever_ silently while I contemplated sleep. I didn't bother pestering Rick about the meeting. If I were him I wouldn't want to repeat every nanosecond of today's exchange any more than I had to so it was no surprise he kept his cards close to his vest for the time being.

Roughly an hour later we were all gathered in the cellblock as Rick revealed the topics of conversation shared between he and The Governor. So far I hadn't heard anything that surprised me, and judging by the look on everyone face neither had they. Merle was kind enough to reiterate his opinion on the matter, again, and I stifled a groan as I propped a foot up on the wall behind me. Glenn and Deadpool shot daggers at the elder hillbilly's back as he retreated towards the rear of the group done contributing for now.

"He wants the prison. He wants us gone. Dead, he wants us dead. For what we did to Woodbury," Rick explained. "We're going to war."

He looked around the room, meeting everyone's eye. When he reached me I held my gaze steady, offering him my unwavering support. He nodded at me, but the movement was forced and I narrowed my eyes at him. Rick had a trick or two left over from his days as a cop, one of them when he tried to make his face look impassive when he was really anything but. He would plaster an almost bored expression on his face letting his eyes glaze over. I'd seen him do this on several occasions, most notable right before he confessed to killing his best friend. He only used this trick when he was hiding something. It probably served him well interrogating suspects, but we weren't suspects and I didn't like being lied to.

Pushing off the wall I made my way up the stairs, bypassing the two mattresses pushed together on the ground and continuing until I reached a ladder bolted to the wall. Reaching up I grabbed the first rung, pulling myself up and throwing open the metal door leading to the roof. I walked the entire area quickly making sure I was in fact alone before settling against a half wall surrounding the now defunct AC unit.

I rolled Rick's speech around in my mind examining the gaping holes. The majority of what he said was true, The Governor wanted us dead, he wanted the prison, and we were going to war, but he held something back at the end, something big. There was a subtle change in his demeanor I doubt anyone else noticed. A slight uptick in the cadence of his voice, an almost indecipherable change in the pattern of his breathing that screamed, lie, lie, lie.

It didn't help that Rick was a crappy liar. I came to that conclusion in the first five minutes of meeting him. He possessed an inherent need to do the right thing to the point I was fairly certain it was woven into the very fabric of his DNA. The question wasn't whether or not he was lying. The question was why. His deception was easy to spot, but for me that was always the easy part. The hard part was deciphering the lie.

"Penny for yur thoughts?"

I wasn't surprised Daryl followed me up here. Nothing surprised me where he was concerned anymore, but I found the normal rage that bubbled in my veins when he was near absent this go-round. Either I was too tired to get worked up or I was adjusting to our new normal.

"I'm not sure they're worth that much," I replied as he stood a few feet away chewing on his thumbnail. "Something you need?"

"Wanted to see whatcha thought 'bout what Rick said."

"Does it matter?" I was being difficult for no other reason than because I could. It was bratty and immature and to his credit he didn't take the bait. He patiently waited for me to continue, somehow knowing I would. I needed to talk this out, he knew that, so here he was. "There's something he's not telling us."

"Yeah," he agreed. I smiled at him. I was wrong when I thought no one noticed because of course he did. Daryl missed nothing. He would have seen Rick's shift in behavior like a flashlight shining in a dark room. "Got any idea what it is?"

"A few." Million. He didn't respond, but then again that wasn't his style. Just being up here was his way of waving a giant white flag at me. "I think he offered him an out."

He stopped chewing his thumbnail, adjusting the strap on his crossbow across his chest with a shrug.

"He didn't take it." No, he hadn't. Not yet. "Why not?"

We both knew why. He was throwing me a bone, manufacturing a conversation. It irritated me to no end that I was happy about it. Hated that his presence soothed me. My grandmother used to tell me conflict was inevitable, but combat was optional. I was so conflicted when it came to the man in front of me I wanted to pull my hair out.

I wanted him out of my life, but I couldn't let him go.

I missed him so much if physically hurt, but I was probably better off without him.

I loved him, and I didn't know what to do with it.

Grinding my teeth together in agitation I ignored my tumultuous feelings and focused on the here and now.

"One, his word isn't worth the paper it's printed on. He wants a war and he's going to start one no matter what we do." Daryl nodded in agreement. "Two, my guess is he didn't ask for something like half our food or ammo."

"What else we got?"

"People," I answered somberly. "Deadpool and Merle specifically." Now that I said it out loud it made perfect sense.

"And you," he added, jaw clenched, voice like acid.

I waved him off, "No, I amuse him, but those two are playing on a different level. Merle's a traitor to the cause and that isn't something Crazy can let go off. Deadpool turned him into a cyclops and put down the walker daughter he had stashed in a closet. Finding an assassin with a few party tricks up her sleeve is nothing compared to that."

He sucked air in-between his teeth, "Rick ain't got no loyalty to neither of 'em."

"Maybe, maybe not." He was right about Merle, but something told me his opinion on Deadpool was changing. "It doesn't matter in the end because it all comes back to the fact that we can't trust him to hold up his end of the deal. Plus, Rick wouldn't do something like that."

Hopefully.

"And even if he tried I'd never let him," I promised.

Daryl and I may have our differences, but Merle was his only surviving family member and I knew exactly what it felt like to lose that. If there was anything I could do to prevent him from feeling that pain I would do it. Besides, that kind of deal hit a little too close to home for me. I'd made choices like that in the past and swore I would never do it again.

He nodded stiffly, not sure how to take my statement, and we lapsed into an uneasy silence. Although Daryl was thinking so loud I was surprised it hadn't attracted a herd of walkers.

"Ya might not even know 'bout it if he decides to go through with it," Daryl added skeptically.

I scoffed, "Please, are you doubting my super sleuthing skills? If I _had_ gone to college that would have been my major."

There was nothing, and I do mean _nothing_ , that went on in this group that I didn't know about. I wasn't nosy. I cared. There was a difference.

"Huh?"

"Never mind, point is it's not gonna happen. Merle and Deadpool are with us now."

Lord help us all. Between her samurai sword and his penchant for sexist jokes the odds were better than average one of them wouldn't make it out of this alive.

"This ain't gonna end well." When did it ever?

"Story of my life."

"I ah…moved my shit into a cell." He stumbled over the words, my throat tightening at the implication, my breathing no longer steady. "Keep an eye on Merle and all. Perch is all yurs."

My heart pounded in my ears as I blinked away tears I had no right to let fall, but it was all too fresh and the pain of our separation hurt more than both gunshot wounds combined.

"Right, thanks," I mumbled not meeting his gaze, curling my fingers into my palm.

He let out a ragged breath, his body vibrating slightly with tension, but he made no move towards me. After what felt like hours he finally walked away and I clamped my lips together before I did something stupid like asking him to stay.

"Don't stay up here all night," he said and I bit my lip, giving him a curt nod. "Night."

I kept my gaze fixed on a chunk of missing concrete on the roof, the sounds of night in the distance barely registering as I fought the urge to scream in frustration. I didn't dare look at him. Too scared of what I might or might not see.

"Night," I choked out.

The sound of his boots on the ladder faded until I was left in silence, no longer trying to make sense of the war with The Governor. The war underway inside my head far more pressing. I was thankful when the pull of physical and mental exhaustion were too great to ignore. My eyes grew heavy, my chin drooping as I fell asleep on the roof, back against the jagged concrete wall. My last conscious thought wasn't The Governor or Rick's deception. It wasn't the well-being of my family sleeping in cellblock C or the war that was sure to come. Good or bad (I wasn't sure which) my last thought before sleep claimed me was Daryl.

 _"Love isn't worth this," I told my grandmother as we stood over my grandfather's freshly dug grave, the gray sky opening up as the cold rain soaked my hair and clothes. The pain in my chest expanding and contracting so forcefully I found it hard to breathe. She took my hand in hers squeezing it lightly. I felt shame consume me as she offered me comfort today of all days._

 _"Love is always worth it," she insisted.  
_

 _My eyes traveled back to the mound of dirt that was my grandfather's final resting place. I had my doubts._

 _"It's not." I shook my head. The frivolity of cursing a feeling not lost on me. "It only leads to pain. I don't want that, ever."_

 _She turned to me, a sad smile on her wrinkled face, cupping my face in her hands.  
_

 _"I won't lie to you and say it's easy because it's not, but love is the greatest gift you can ever give or receive." The lone tear traveling down her cheek the only visible sign of her suffering. "Hold your love close. Not everyone deserves it, and you may find yourself forced to give up on some you trust with your most precious gift." Something in her expression told me she was speaking from experience. "But one day you'll find the one who is worthy of it. When you do don't hold back. Love him with the same fire you live your life with."_

 _"How will I know?" I whispered, my lips trembling as her face softened in sympathy.  
_

 _She pulled me into a hug, my arms going around her as rested my chin on her head she was so tiny._

 _"Trust your heart Alex. It will guide you when all else fails." I shuttering sob racked my body and she held me tighter. My grandmother always had more faith in me than I had in myself. "When you find the one you're meant to spend your life with they will let you down, they will fail you, disappoint you, and you will do the same." Wow, sounded amazing. Can't wait. "There will be times you think it simply can't work, that he isn't the one for you, but your heart will know different."_

 _That was all well and good, but it still didn't tell me what I needed to know. How? How would I identify the real thing from the pretenders, from the ones who would hurt me? I wanted a straight answer, a simply equation, a way to do the math, but I was beginning to think there wasn't one. I should have known better than to doubt my grandmother._

 _She pulled back, holding me at arm's length, "Don't ever give up on the man you can't go a full day without thinking about."_

Rick wasn't the only one lying. He may be lying to the group, but I was doing far worse.

I was lying to myself.

* * *

 **Slow and steady wins the race :) We're starting to see the first cracks in Alex's resolve. It's a tough spot to be in. I keep asking myself what I would do, feel, say if this was me and I was trying to balance an impending war and my love for a man who hurt me. Well, this chapter is my answer.**

 **Strap in folks cause things really start to heat up from here. The next chapter is a doozy! The next two actually ;)**


	32. A Better Man

**A Better Man**

Normally being right made me want to break out in song, gloat, smile uncontrollably, sometimes a combination of all three. Unfortunately, now wasn't one of those times. At the moment I wanted to be anything _other than_ right.

It was early the in morning, very early. The Georgian sun, while still relatively low in the sky, was threatening to roast me like a pig on a spit. I leaned against a nearby wall, fuming for reasons that had nothing to do with the rising temperatures as Rick came clean, confirming my suspicions as he outlined The Governor's price for "peace". No one looked surprised at the reveal. Something told me Hershel already knew, and Daryl and I had guessed as much last night. Knowing it and hearing it were two very different things. Listening to him it felt like I had swallowed a lead brick as acid burned the back of my throat. According to Rick, all we had to do to avoid Woodbury's substantial stockpile of people and bullets being aimed in our direction was hand over Deadpool.

"You gonna tell 'em?" Daryl asked.

I kept my head down studying the tips of my boots like they might offer an alternative solution. I couldn't look at Rick right now. If I looked at him I might wrap my hands around his throat and cut off his precious air supply until he came to his senses.

Daryl's question was unnecessary, a fact he knew, but he was trying to get his friend to think this through to the end. Everyone here, Rick included, knew he wouldn't tell the other right away. He couldn't. They would never understand such an offer. They would never agree to it. It would split us down the seams which was the last thing we needed on the verge of war. Handing over Deadpool may avoid war with The Governor, but it was liable to start a civil war amongst us. The bad news was there was no way to keep it a secret forever. Sooner or later someone would realize she was missing.

"Not 'till after," he sighed and I closed my eyes. I had assumed there would at least be some discussion or debate, but it seemed the three of us missed the vote. He had already made his decision, and for the first time under his leadership I seriously considered stopping him. "We have to do it today. It has to be quiet."

Well, that should easy. All we needed to do was separate, subdue and kidnap a woman with the personality of a porcupine and the fighting skills of a rabid lion, all without anyone noticing. Could it be done? Yes. Did I have the stomach for what it would entail? No. Not anymore. I could tell from Daryl's body language he didn't agree with the decision, but he would support. That was how dictatorships worked after all. I drummed my fingers against my leg, trying to find my Zen before I marched up to Deadpool and told her to run.

"You got a plan?" Rick shook his head yes. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost hurt myself. I couldn't wait to hear this.

"We tell her we need to talk. Away from the others."

Daryl looked over Rick's shoulder at Hershel, but the old man looked away, his face grim. Typical, I thought angrily. We were willing to sacrifice another human being to that monster knowing exactly what he would do, but didn't have the stomach to discuss the details.

"It just ain't us man," Daryl said with a solemn shake of his head. He was a lot of things, but first and foremost he was a man of principle. He had a good heart and there was no way this would sit right with him, ever.

"No, no it isn't," Hershel agreed, hobbling off on his crutches. He didn't support the decision, but he wasn't going to stand in the way of it either. In-action was the same as acceptance in my book.

Rick stepped closer to Daryl. "If we do this we avoid a fight. No one else dies." Daryl sighed reluctantly, mumbling an OK and Rick turned to face me. "Alex?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, eyes intense, jaw clenched so hard it hurt as I ground my teeth together. It took physical effort to keep myself rooted in place. He took an unconscious step back. There was death in my gaze and the part of his brain devoted to animal survival knew it. He worked hard to control his breathing, to appear unaffected by the menacing glower directed at him, but a small jolt of fear made his shoulders flinch as he folded into himself slightly in an effort to make himself smaller.

"Red."

Daryl took a step closer, his large hand warping around my bicep, ready to physical restrain me if needed. I pulled my stare away from Rick and he staggered back slightly. I drew in a gulp of air, holding it for a second before blowing it out slowly, focusing on the feel of Daryl's hand on my arm. I marveled at how it was somehow rough from a life lived hunting, scavenging, and fighting yet still inexplicable soft at the same time. I gave him a slight nod, letting him know I was in control and he dropped his hand, but stayed close.

"It won't work," I told Rick. We both knew I wasn't talking about kidnapping Deadpool.

His head bowed, hands on his hips as desperation clawed at him. "We have to try."

"You know, the right choice is rarely the easy one."

"Would you trade her life for Daryl's?" he hissed at me, and I forced myself to stay calm, my face relaxed. "What about Carl or Judith's?"

In a word, yes. I wouldn't do it willingly and certainly not easily, but I would rather face The Governor in a war that ended in all our deaths than go down this road. I had done it before and almost didn't come back, the price simply too steep to surmount. Some things were beyond redemption.

"You can't put a price on living with yourself," I glared at him. "Trust me, we do this and there's no coming back."

"So be it." Spoken like a man who had no idea what he was talking about. "Are you with us?" When it took me too long to answer he walked towards me. "The group needs you…I need you…my children need you." His voice cracked and my resolve with it. Unable to find my voice I nodded. I told him once I would support him no matter the call. Until this moment I never regretted that statement. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for this." I shook his arm off. "Never thank me for something like this." He swallowed hard, accepting my condemnation with as much grace as he could before facing Daryl.

"We'll need someone else." My head fell back as I mumbled a curse. He was right. We needed more manpower if we stood a chance of pulling this off. The only person with a questionable moral compass (or none at all) was Merle Dixon. Fighting The Governor felt like the lesser of two evils. At least he didn't carry a samurai sword around.

"I'll talk to him," Daryl promised.

"I'll do it."

"I'll go with you," Daryl tried again, but Rick was quick to cut him off.

"No, just me." That conversation would definitely end with someone dead.

Rick walked away without another word. Daryl looked equal parts worried and confused, and I couldn't say I blamed him. The last time Rick and Merle squared off Merle ended up marooned on a rooftop in Atlanta handcuffed to a drainpipe.

"Ain't never seen yur murder face look so damn scary." His lips twitched. "I swear that smile you added could freeze fuckin' lava."

I tried my best to conjure up my murder face, directing it at my fake husband. He laughed. What good was a murder face if someone laughed at it?

"I don't have a murder face," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"What do ya think?"

I tightened my ponytail, scratching at the base of my skull when the hairs pulled a little too tight. "I think you're all idiots."

"Merle'll do it." Tell me something I didn't know. "Ain't no love loss 'tween those two."

I snorted, "No shit." Didn't make it right.

He adjusted the strap on his crossbow, looking away from me. "I don't like it none either, but its Rick's call. We gotta back him up."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

He was as conflicted as I had ever seen him, the creases in his forehead a testament to his internal struggle. I wanted to reach out and rub my thumb across them, pull him to me and offer what little comfort I could, but instead I curled my fingers into my palm and walked away. None of us deserved comfort. We needed to feel the sting of this choice and the slimy feel it left behind. We were sentencing a woman to death, and a brutal one at that, all for _possibility_ of saving our own ass. She had stood with us, fought with us, protected us, and we were going to repay her with betrayal. We deserved no consolation.

I passed by Deadpool as she outlined a brilliant plan to protect our destroyed front gate, and almost puked on the spot. Here she was still trying to save us all while we were plotting to hand her over to the man she hated most in this world. I sat down on the stairs in the cellblock listening to the voice in my head screaming that this was wrong. I knew when The Governor was done with her she would beg for the mercy only death could provide. I might as well torture her myself. Handing her over was the same thing. Daryl shot me a troubled expression when I declined to take part in our defensive preparations as I walked away without a backwards glance.

Somehow I found myself in a part of the prison I swore I would never venture again, the blasted laundry room where Porn had almost killed me, a couple of times. Finding a secluded spot against the wall just outside the entrance I let my feet slide out from under me as I sank down to the ground in a spot obscured by shadows.

We didn't have much time if we wanted to deliver Deadpool by the noon deadline and I felt my resolve wavering. Was I really going to do this? She was my friend or she could be, someday, but I knew she trusted me and I was going to use that trust to stab her in the back. Vitriol swirled in my stomach. Rick asked me to be a part of this because he knew I was capable of such treachery. It wasn't my physical abilities he sought, though he planned to take full use of those too. No, he asked for my help because he knew I would follow through. I was ashamed to admit this was nothing new to me. Sure, I had never done it to someone I considered a friend, but deceit was deceit no matter how pretty a package you wrapped it in. In the past I found solace in the fact those choices had not been my own. They had been orders, and taking orders, delivering results, was what I did. The same couldn't be said this time. I covered my mouth with my hand as a particular gruesome memory reared its ugly head, dragging me out of the laundry room and taking me half a world away.

In Eastern Afghanistan there was a spec of land 10 kilometers long and less than a kilometer wide called the Korengal Valley. The landscape was a true dichotomy with jagged, rocky, mountains surrounding the valley's edge that gave way to lush, forested, pine trees on the valley floor. It was undeniably beautiful and unforgivingly dangerous. For decades the region remained under the militant control of the Taliban until 2006 when U.S. Forces established a series of outposts in the villages scattered throughout the valley in an effort to provide a buffer between them and the militant fighters. Its proximity to Pakistan gave Taliban fighters a cross-border sanctuary making the small spec of land one of the hardest fought patches of ground in the War on Terror.

While the military's intentions were in the right place their understanding of the culture was abysmal. The strongly independent tribes residing in the Korengal Valley followed a sect of Islam known for its particularly conservative and hardline attitudes that made them inhospitable to strangers. Add to the fact they spoke a dialect found nowhere else in the country, and meetings between tribal elders and U.S. military leadership were tense, if not outright confrontation. Nevertheless our troops remained and they struggled to find a way to fight the Taliban, gain the trust of the tribes, and keep their people alive along the way.

By the time I was sent there in early 2009 under the guise of an "independent advisor" the geographically small portion of land had been dubbed "The Valley of Death" by American forces and was the most dangerous place on Earth. Military leadership was reluctant to admit failure, but desperate for a way to improve relations which up to this point had been a catastrophic failure. They were all too eager to accept the CIA's offer for help so during the day I coached them on how to gain the respect and trust of the tribal elders, all the while working on my real mission, to find the leak funneling intelligence to the Taliban. It took me nearly three weeks to identify the Taliban sympathizer living amongst us by feeding false information through various channels and seeing what our intelligence sources picked up on the other end. After that it was only a matter of working my way down the list of possible suspects with access to the false information.

The Taliban spy turned out to be an old man, a grandfather ten times over, a man who had been surprisingly friendly to me during my time there. One night I lured him away from the village under the guise of needing help with my vehicle. While he leaned over my engine, trying to identify why it wouldn't turn over, I stuck a needle in his neck, pumping his veins full of enough sedatives to awe even Hershel. He was unconscious before he could even cry out, remaining that way the entire trip, but just in case I miscalculated the dosage I zip tied his hands and feet, and threw a bag over his head for good measure. I delivered him to a neighboring village, Landigal, which had been devastated by a Taliban raid just a week prior. A raid the Taliban organized with information he hand delivered to them.

In exchange for the traitor the village elders promised to unify under an American banner in an effort to combat Taliban forces something that until this point had been nothing more than a pipe dream. The men at the exchange were so blinded by a haze of vengeance the fact they were dealing with a woman never registered on their radar. I had my doubts about their loyalties, knew in my gut they would never honor their pledge to fight with us, but it wasn't my call. So I did as I was told, handing him over without a second thought.

I watched from my truck as they beat him, whipped him, and eventually burned him alive. His screams for mercy, forgiveness, death, forever burned into my mind, but the angry mob ignored them all. They took their time with him; carving flesh from his bones, ripping teeth from his jaw with pliers, breaking bones so severely they punctured what little skin they left untouched, and worst of all, promising to kill his grandchildren. They savored the revenge I facilitated. I made it a mile before I had to pull over to vomit.

A month later a dozen Marines and countless Afghan civilians, including women and children, were slaughtered when the Taliban attacked a collation outpost on the outskirts of the Korengal Valley. The after-action-reports of the incident showed the Taliban hadn't been alone in their attack. The villagers from Landigal had fought by their side.

"Merle!" Daryl hollered, "Ya down here?"

My head snapped up as I squinted in the dark trying to figure out which way his voice was coming from, but the echo made it impossible to pinpoint. Bringing my legs up I tucked them against my chest, wrapping my arms around them, opting to stay hidden.

"Merle!" Daryl tried again as he passed in front of me unknowingly.

"Hey, hey little brother," Merle answered from inside the laundry room. How in the hell did I not know Merle was in the next room this whole time?

"What the hell?" I heard Daryl ask and debated trying to sneak away while he was out of sight, but I stopped myself, curious about their exchange. I wasn't lying when I told Daryl there wasn't much I didn't know. I neglected to admit that fact was due to my finely tuned eavesdropping skills.

"I was just about to holler back at ya," Merle lied.

I could hear Daryl's walking around the laundry room and found myself straining to hear their conversation. "Whatcha doin' down here?"

"Uh, yeah…just lookin' for a little…crystal man."

I almost said something right then and there, but the key to successful eavesdropping was to not comment on conversations you weren't supposed to be a part of. But really, with everything we had going on Merle's main priority was finding drugs? I shouldn't have been surprised, at all, but I was and that sucked.

"Yeah, I know. That shit messed my life up and everything is going so sweet, right?"

The sarcasm in the elder Dixon's voice made me want to slap him. I might pretend to ignore Daryl unless it was absolutely necessary for us to interact, but nothing could be further from the truth. I kept my eye on him, always knew what he was doing and with whom. And ever since he came back every spare second he had was devoted to defending his brother and trying to convince the group he deserved another chance. Yet Merle's main priority, as always, was numero uno. If Daryl commented on his brother's idiocy I didn't hear it, but I did hear him ask if he talked to Rick. I knew he had. Rick found me not long before I went walkabout and gave me an overview of his convo with Merle.

"Yeah, oh yeah. I'm in," Merle assured his brother. He sounded indifferent about handing Deadpool over, but Rick had told me he didn't agree with the plan. Like me, he thought it would make no difference in our struggle against The Governor. "But uh, he ain't got the stomach for it. He's gonna buckle you know that right?"

One could only hope.

Daryl hummed in agreement, but not relief. He still had his doubts. "If he does, he does."

"You want him to?"

I had to physically stop myself from crawling forward on my hands and knees to get closer. I didn't know why I wanted to hear his thoughts so badly. Maybe because for months we had been more than lovers, we had held each other's council during the most trying times. We had been each other's sounding board when the world pressed us into impossible choices. There were more than a few times we disagreed on the "how", but rarely, if ever, did we disagree on the "what", and I wanted – no needed – to know he could stand up for himself in front of his brother, voice his opinion on the matter. I needed to know he was the same man I fell in love with.

"Whatever he says goes," he said in a low voice and my shoulders sagged with disappointment.

"Man, do you even possess a pair of balls little brother?" Merle huffed at him, contempt dripping from his voice. "Are they even attached? I mean, if they are, they belong to you? You used to call people like that sheep." Merle's voice was no longer disgusted. He was furious. "What happened to you?"

"What happened?" Daryl paused before continuing, "What happened with ya and Glenn? What 'bout Maggie? Alex?"

"I've done worse. You need to grow up. Things are different now." I shifted forward an inch, Merle's voice cracking. "Y'all people look at me like I'm the Devil. Grabbin' up those love birds and yur old lady like that, huh? Now y'all wanna do the same damn thing I did, snatch someone up and deliver them to The Governor. Just like me," he hissed in accusation. "People do what they gotta do or they die."

"You can't do things without people anymore man," Daryl whispered and I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle my cry. The pain in his voice crippled me.

"Maybe these people need somebody like me and yur girl around, huh?" My ears perked up at that. Merle was lumping us in the same category? The shitty part was he wasn't wrong. "Y'all need somebody to do the dirty work. Someone's gotta be the bad guy...or gal." I could practically hear the smirk. "Heck, maybe that's how it is now, huh? How's that hit ya?"

A pregnant paused filled the stale air.

"There's more to Alex than that." The air was sucked out of my lungs at his unwavering faith in me, even as I sat here contemplating kidnapping one of our own. "'Sides all that shit don't matter. I just want my brother back," he admitted.

I could hear Merle's labored breathing, "Save that sweet talk for yur pretty piece of ass. Get outta here man." Daryl didn't answer and I heard his boots headed back my way as I slide further behind the furnace. The last thing I needed was to get caught down here witness their Jerry Springer moment. "Hey, what happened with ya and Firecracker anyhow?" Daryl's footsteps faltered.

"You."

He left without further explanation. I rested my head against the cool metal in front of me, trying to get my head on straight, but the sounds coming from the laundry room kept pulling me back to their conversation. Climbing to my feet I walked into the room, Merle's back to me as he hunched over a stockpile of weapons that would make a kidnapper in a white panel van drool, but that wasn't what caught my eye. It was the sheer number. There were far more weapons crammed into the small bag than you needed to subdue even someone like Deadpool. He wasn't gearing up for a kidnapping. He was gearing up for a suicide mission.

"Going somewhere?" I asked.

He looked over his shoulder, not surprised at my presence. "Just missed Darlina."

Ignoring the jab I walked closer, peering into his bag. "Rick hasn't given the go-ahead for this yet."

"Sure he did Firecracker. He came to me, asked me to do what he couldn't. So I'm gonna do what I gotta."

I kicked open the corner of the bag with the toe of my boot, "And the liquor? That something he asked you to do too?"

He laughed, "If I'm gonna die I'm gonna have a little fun doin' it." Like a cobra striking I grabbed the collar of his shirt, throwing him on his back as I drew my PPQ, putting the muzzle right between his eyes. "Woah, hold up there lil' sister."

I pressed my knee into his sternum, my blood damn near boil with rage. "Listen to me you son of bitch, you may not give a rat's ass about your life, but Daryl does. He left me…" My voice broke as I sucked in a breath. "He left me, this group, for you."

He raised his eyebrows at me, "And I'm supposed to do what, get on knees and thank him?" I backhanded him across the face, his head snapping to the side. I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"You're supposed to give a shit," I snarled. "That man has never asked you for anything. He's given you everything and in return you've done nothing but let him down. You turned him into a shell of a man, and still he stands by your side. Over-and-over he takes a chance on you, knowing it will gut him when you fail, but it doesn't stop him from trying, from believing you can change. For once in your miserable life try to be worthy of that."

"You don't know shit!" he yelled, trying to buck me off, but I jammed my forearm under throat, pressing my pistol firmly against his forehead, and all movement ceased.

"I swear to fucking god if you hurt him again I will end you."

He struggled to breathe under my restraint, sweat building on his forehead from nerves and anger, but he nodded. I searched his face, his eyes, looking for the truth and only climbed off him once I found it. I scooted back, leaning against the industrial washing machine, gun still in my hand just in case he decided to rumble. He sat up slowly, hands tracing the newly formed bruise on his jawline as he opened and closed his mouth experimentally. He draped his arms over his knees his own eyes now searching mine. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny I quickly shifted topics.

"Don't make a move until Rick says so."

He smirked, "It ain't gonna make much difference either way."

"I know," I agreed. "He's coming for us whether we hand her over or not."

"Still…seems like an awful waste of an opportunity," he mused, revealing the stupid plan he still thought was a secret.

"Merle, not this again," I started.

"What do you care?" he laughed, "Few seconds ago ya was threatin' my life."

"Because it matters to Daryl," I whispered, not looking at him. That was true, but there was more to it. Merle and I had a lot in common. I understood what he was doing. Better yet, I understood why. "Don't do this. It's suicide."

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us lost in thought.

"I told Officer Friendly earlier I don't know why I do the things I do," he muttered more to himself than me.

I swallowed thickly, keeping my eyes fixed on a fleck of dirt on the floor. "It's because you think you're not worth it."

"Whattaya say to me?" he growled. I met his eyes, my face an open book for once and he frowned, unsure what to make of it.

"Someone once made you believe you were nothing and you never stopped believing the lie. I know what that's like."

"Fuck ya!" he sneered. "Don't know shit!"

I shook my head at him. We both knew better. "I know what it's like to want everything you know you'll never have. To wallow in pain as envy and hate eat away at your soul. You can't live like that. Nothing grows in darkness." Jesus, I sounded like my grandmother. He swallowed thickly, rapt with attention. "You're not beyond salvation Merle. You can fight your demons. I'll help if you just let me."

"How?"

"Stop believing the lie." He dropped his eyes to the ground. "There's more to you than this," I waved my hand at him, "You can try to cover it with insults, hide it by pushing people away, but I see it. Daryl sees it. People like us…who lived through what we have…no one can hurt us but ourselves. If the world knocks us down we just come back stronger."

He sighed, "Everybody ain't like ya."

"I didn't say everybody. I said people like us." I pointed between us and he licked his lips, head plopping back against the wall, dejected. "We were born unstoppable. We had to be. It was the only way we could survive."

"I can't." He sounded like he was crying. "You're wrong 'bout me. I'm nothin'."

I got to my feet, holstering my weapon. "Nobody's nothing."

"The fuck ya want from me?" he yelled, but the wetness in his eyes said he wanted an honest answer.

"I want you to be a better man." I looked down at him, a sad smile on my face. "You have it in you."

"What if I can't?"

He looked so lost, so broken sitting on the floor of the dingy laundry room. I knew that look, had worn it myself. Changing who you were was no easy feat. People changed for all kinds of reasons, but at the core of every reason was desire. Without desire change was simply impossible.

"All you have to do is try."

He didn't stop me when I left, but I stayed close. I may have admitted to believing in Merle Dixon, but Rome wasn't built in a day so I knew with absolute certainty that he would continue with his asinine plan to kidnap Deadpool as cover for his real plan, to try and assassinate The Governor. I couldn't explain it, but somehow I knew he wasn't going to hand her over. He truly believed the only way to redeem himself was to die trying to kill our enemy.

No one could ever accuse the Dixon's of not reaching for the stars.

That faith was how I found myself creeping through the woods following him as he led a restrained Deadpool down a deserted street. When he convinced her to follow him into the tombs of the prison under the guise of clearing out a walker infestation caused by a hole in the wall I was disappointed she fell for it. We were having a sit down when this was over. She was better than that. Sneaking out of the prison without them or anyone else noticing was no easy feat and the longer this charade drug on the more aggravated I became.

I told myself to stay patient and stick with it. You couldn't force someone to change. They had to want it themselves. Desire I reminded myself as a blister rubbed at my heel. He better have desire buried underneath all that redneck assholery because this blister fucking hurt. I truly believed I could bring him back from the dark side. I felt the light in him. It wasn't very much and it certainly wasn't very bright, but it was there. Sure, I could run out there and stop him, force him back to the prison, but in doing so I would accomplish nothing. I needed to know it was his choice not to be an ass-hat. I wasn't going to risk him around the group, around Nugget and Carl, unless he could be trusted, and to do to that I needed to know he was one of us. So I continued to follow them, far enough away to avoid detection, but close enough I could step in and save Deadpool if I had horribly misjudged my fake brother-in-law. I almost shot him myself in irritation when he stopped just so he could kill a walker with her sword. Although, honestly, watching him, it did look fun. Maybe she would let me take it for a test drive one day.

Merle continued to lead her down the road at a leisurely pace, holding the phone cord like a dog leash. I didn't need to see her face to know she wasn't thrilled with that development. When he paused outside a house I bit my lip while he checked a car looking for a faster form of transportation. I looked around, seeing no other vehicles in the nearby vicinity which was bad. If he got that car started and they took off I would have no way to keep up on foot. That was unacceptable. I may have faith in him, but it wasn't blind faith. I wasn't risking another person's life on a hunch. Thankfully the battery was dead as a doornail and he abandoned the idea.

A half mile later they stopped at old motel, and I almost cried in relief when the parking lot was full of cars. There was no way he was leaving without one this time, but thankfully the vast amount of options meant I wouldn't be left in the dust. At least one of these rust buckets was bound to still be drivable. I stayed tucked in the trees as he used a broken piece of car antenna to unlock the car, Deadpool's leash tied to a pole. I snorted when his grunting turned to cursing before the lock finally popped open. Five minutes later.

Amateur.

I stopped breaking into cars like that when I was 10-years-old. When a few minutes passed and he still hadn't managed to hotwire the damn car I almost came out of hiding just to put him out of his misery, but the gurgle of the engine stopped me. He certainly wasn't going to win any awards for stealing cars in the near future. When the car alarm blared to life my stomach bottomed out. Almost instantly walkers poured out of the woods in droves and I was forced to run or get eaten. The sound of gunfire drew my attention to the parking lot just in time to see them peel out.

"Shit."

I raced forward, shooting any walkers in my way as I sprinted to a light blue Jeep. Not exactly the most inconspicuous vehicle, but Merle didn't strike me as the overly observant type, fingers crossed. I sent up a quick hallelujah people in the south were so trusting when the door was unlocked, throwing myself inside. I shot a walker trying to bum a ride in the head before slamming the door closed. I had the car started and was pulling out of the parking lot in under a minute, running over a handful of walkers in the process. Four-wheel drive was a beautiful thing.

As fate would have it following someone without them noticing on a deserted road was no easy task. I was forced to drive so slow I might as well still be walking. When that didn't work I took side roads, and thanked my lucky stars the occupants of the vehicle were clueless. They must really be laying into each other to not notice the powder blue Jeep barreling down the road behind them. Either that or they were knee deep into a serious game of eye spy.

When they pulled to a stop in the middle of nowhere I guided the Jeep off the road, watching and waiting. A few minutes later Deadpool climbed out of the car seemingly unharmed and I smiled to myself. I knew he wasn't 100% asshole. The car started forward again, leaving her on the side of the road as he continued towards the meeting point and I rolled my eyes. He was, however, 100% idiot. Once Merle was out of sight I high-tailed it up the road, pulling to a stop next to Deadpool.

"You good?" Her eyes went wide, mouth hanging open slightly. For Deadpool that was the equivalent of knock you on your ass shock.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Wrong answer. You're supposed to say " _gotta be_ ".

"Sightseeing." I avoided her stony gaze. "He headed to the meet?" She nodded and I looked out the back window. The coast was relatively clear of walkers, nothing she couldn't handle, and it wasn't that far back to the prison. "Head back. Stick close to the road and I'll grab you on the way out."

She put a hand on the window, "Wait, you can't be serious. You're going after him?" I nodded and she frowned. "Why?"

"He's family."

Her lips thinned and I expected more of a fight, but instead she dropped her hands, stepping away. I sent her a grateful look. I didn't have time to go ten rounds with her or so I thought. I found Daryl's idiot brother at an old shopping center a few miles down the road, sitting locked in his car with the music cranked up so loud I heard it a good quarter mile out.

"What is he doing?" I wondered, watching from a "safe" distance. The walkers pawed at the car, growling and snarling as they tried to chew their way through the metal. When he had about 15 to 20 surrounding him he pulled away slowly, stopping and starting intermittently so they could keep up. "Son of a bitch."

The small group of walkers followed the car, attracted by the music, attention held by the potential for dinner locked inside. He was going to draw them into the meet like we did with the herd in Senoia. I cringed. We really were alike. Oh gross. I needed a shower or disinfectant or a stainless steel scrub brush I could shove up my nose to rub _the yuck_ off my brain that thought left behind.

Thankfully the walkers were too busy lusting after Merle to pay attention to me as I took another road to the meeting place. The same place Rick and The Governor had worked out a "truce". My mind raced as I tried to think like Merle Dixon which wasn't that hard. I just ignored all but one brain cell and was halfway to the promise land. My best guess was he would try to draw as many walkers as possible into the heart of the location, taking refuge somewhere that offered higher ground. Merle was an excellent shot, even with only one hand, so if he could find a decent vantage point he might be able to pump a few rounds into The Governor's skull before anyone could stop him. Problem was he would never be able to do it without being pumped full of holes himself.

I parked my Jeep in the woods, the engine still running as I ducked out the door. Squatting down I grabbed my rifle and a few CS triple chasers from my bag. If there was ever a time for grenades it was today. Carefully I made my way through the maze of buildings using the music blasting from Merle's car as a guide. The snarls of the small herd halted my progress as I hide behind a rusted-out silo waiting for them to pass, their hands outstretched as they followed the car. Peeking around the tower I spotted The Governor's men in an open outcropping about 100 yards away. A flash of black caught my eye as I watched Merle dash into a nearby building with a semi-automatic rifle tucked under his bum arm.

"I swear if we make it out of this he's a dead man," I mumbled, checking left and right before dashing around the far side of an adjacent building.

The music and the approaching walkers made the Woodbury crew scattered as they scrambled to take up defensive positions. One ran right in front of me and I jumped forward, wrapping my arm around his head and snapping his neck like I was breaking a twig. He crumpled to the ground in a split second, his dead body partially concealed in the overgrown grass as I looked around. I quickly stabbed him in the temple before bringing up my rifle and peering through the scope. I carefully marked every hostile, ensuring no one was allowed to run around unchecked. We were outnumbered (what else was new?) and right now the only advantage we had was they didn't know we were here. One of the men rounded a corner, no one else nearby, and I squeezed the trigger, the silencer on my rifle muffling the shot as the bullet entered the side of his head. Blood and brain matter spattered against the building behind him, but none of the men noticed their now dead comrade as they hastily opened fire on the walkers. I used the distraction to rush across the opening. I needed to get this dipshit and get the hell out of here.

I heard the distinctive pop of an M-16 followed by two of the Woodbury men crying out before falling, my eyes tracking the trajectory back to a window on the southeast corner of the closest building. The Governor stepped out from the shadows, firing a pistol in the same general direction. I rolled my eyes when I saw his stupid sweater vest. What a dick. Our time was officially up. Now that he was out in the open I knew Merle would take the shot. Everything after that was purely academic. I pulled the strap on my rifle over my head, situating the weapon across my back as I took off at a dead sprint for the building.

I didn't bother trying to be quiet as I grabbed a piece of the thin, tin siding that made up the wall and pulled as hard as I could. The rusted nails and screws gave way as the metal bent with a loud groan as I tossed it to the ground. I ran inside, PPQ up as I cleared the entry, making my way deeper into the structure. Merle fired another round and I immediately turned left following the sound. I found him squatting next to a window a slightly crazed look on his face. Glancing out the window I grimaced at the sight of The Governor holding up a dead body that had apparently taken the bullet meant for his forehead. He was already pointing at our location, hollering to his men.

"Merle!" I screamed, grabbing his shirt and dragging him away from window just as bullet shattered the upper panes of glass. He fell sideways beside me, eyes distant and unfocused. "We gotta move!"

Jumping to my feet I hauled the dazed redneck up, my muscles burning under the strain of his bulk. He was in shock, but whether it was from the missed shot or the shitstorm headed our way I didn't know and we didn't have time for a therapy session. I stopped at my makeshift door, propping the unresponsive man up against the wall and taking the M-16 from him. I ejected the magazine, checking the ammo. He had 10 rounds left. I had 11 in my PPQ and another eight in my rifle.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Slamming the magazine home, tapping the bottom to make sure it was seated correctly I pulled back on the charging handle, releasing it to chamber a round before handing it back to him. I had to practically shove it into his chest before his flesh hand warped around the barrel.

"Are you with me?" He didn't respond. He just stood there pale and despondent. I didn't have time for this shit. Rearing back I slapped him hard across the face, a proper bitch slap, and the fog in his eyes cleared. "Are you with me?"

"Yeah," he murmured. Not inspiring me with confidence, but it was better than catatonic.

"Listen, I have a Jeep parked just around that building." I pointed in the distance and waited as his eyes followed my finger. "When I tell you to, you run straight to it. The engine's running. Be ready to get us the hell out of here."

"Got it," he said, his voice slightly more Merle-like.

I pulled a CS triple chaser from the belt at my waist, a strangled gasp coming from the man next to me. Pretty much. I pulled the pin, keeping the lever pressed down. I drew my PPQ with my other hand, taking a few deep breaths to settle my nerves as we both kept our backs plastered to the wall, the shouting of The Governor's men getting closer with every second.

"Ready?" I asked. He shot me a tiny smirk and I practically growled at him, "You better not fucking leave me Merle."

His smile got downright toothy, "I would never do somethin' like that Firecracker." I rolled my eyes. I liked him better catatonic. "'Sides, Dixon's don't leave family behind."

My eyes snapped to his face, but I saw no humor. He was serious. Dead serious. Poetic considering we were likely to be dead in the next few minutes. The ping of bullets cutting through the thin walls of the building made us both duck for cover. That was enough family bonding for now. Spinning on my knee into the opening I tossed the grenade at the approaching group of men, ducking back behind the wall as I counted in my head. Seconds later the explosion rocked the ground, rattling the building and causing the portion of the wall closest to the blast to implode. A whistle of splinters hissed through the air as the windows shattered, sending tiny shards of glass in every direction, a suffocating smell of fire and powder clogging the air.

"Go!" I screamed at Merle, stepping out into the open. I ignored the men on the ground withering in pain, leaving them for the walkers as I killed three that had survived the initial blast faster than they could react. I turned on my heel, sprinting towards the Jeep as bullets kicked up the dirt at my feet and hit the buildings to my right and left, thanking Hershel's god these guys still aimed like Stormtroopers. Diving behind a building I slammed my back against the wall, panting for air before peering around the corner. I counted at least six still coming but I didn't have the time to take them out individually. Slow down, I told myself, work the problem. The sun reflected off something 20 feet away and I squinted, trying to make out what it was despite the glare. I puffed out my cheeks as I cringed, wondering if this was where my luck finally ran out, taking in the big, silver, propane tank.

"Go big or go home," I muttered, pulling the last CS triple chaser from my belt. I pulled the pin and tossed the grenade towards the tank just as another hail of bullets slammed into the building, but I paid them no mind as I scrambled up.

 **One.**

My feet pounded against the ground, blood rushing in my ears as I took in far more air than I was expelling running for the Jeep.

 **Two.**

The men behind me shouted to get down.

 **Three.**

Merle slammed on the breaks, the Jeep squealing in protest as he positioned it for a quick getaway, his eyes frantic.

 **Four.**

The detonation was thunderous as the grenade exploded directly underneath the propane tank, igniting the gallons of fuel in the blink of an eye. The concussion from the secondary explosion was so violent it threw me forward, heat searing my back as flames licked at my skin. I flew through the air, a stupendous burst of fierce light causing me to squeeze my eyes shut. I hit the ground on my side, intense shooting pains electrifying my body as muscles pulled and limbs twisted unnaturally. My head ricocheting off hard packed dirt, starburst dancing in my vision for a moment as the fabric of my clothes were shredded by the debris on the ground as I slide a few feet before coming to a stop. I whimpered in pain, my head fuzzy and ears ringing as I rolled onto my back. And enormous fireball consumed the area, the dry vegetation acting like lighter fluid as the flames spread faster than the men could run. A giant plume of smoke billowed in the air, the mushroom like cloud reminding me of a nuclear explosion.

Someone grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet and dragging me further away from the pandemonium. My body was incorporative and I stumbled, would have fallen, but for the iron clad grip on my arm. We stopped beside the Jeep and I looked into the nervous eyes of Merle watching his mouth move, but hearing no words. I couldn't hear anything but an incessant ringing. I tapped my ear, shaking my head at him, instantly regretting it as a pain flared in my temples. He nodded in understanding as he opened the backdoor of the Jeep, guiding me inside with tenderness foreign to both of us. I collapsed face down on the cool leather, pain radiating from so many places simultaneously I couldn't pinpoint any single source.

A few seconds later the car lurched forward, but I stayed down, one arm hanging limply over the side, my skinned knuckles dragging on the scratchy floor mats. My head hurt like a mofo, but I didn't think I had a concussion, just a sizeable lump on the head. There were numerous scratches and cuts on my arms and face. I could feel hot, sticky blood still trailing down one arm, but none of the wounds appeared deep enough to require stiches when I probed them gingerly. Next I moved my arms, legs, fingers and toes, feeling nothing broken. I still couldn't hear shit, but that would pass with time. All and all it was nothing a few rounds of Hershel's Clydesdale medication couldn't fix. Considering I went blitzkrieg all by myself I was getting off easy.

I felt the car slow down, but didn't have the energy to sit up. I could see Merle in my peripheral and he didn't look concerned so neither was I. He stopped the car completely, opening the door and stepping out. Maybe he was picking up Deadpool. A few minutes later the back door opened and someone rolled me onto my back slowly. It was incredibly hard to focus, but once I finally did I came face-to-face with a very scared Daryl which was my least favorite version of him. I would take angry Daryl over scared Daryl any day of the week. Angry Daryl was hot AF. Scared Daryl made me sad. OK, maybe I did have a concussion after all.

He said something and I frowned, pointing to my ears, shaking my head more gently this go-round. Merle, who was standing a few feet behind him, said something and Daryl glanced at him, nodding, his jaw clenched. The two brothers spoke briefly as Daryl dropped a heavy hand on his older brother's shoulder. The two stared at each other, saying nothing because there were no words to express a lifetime of disappointment and apology. Merle's bottom lip quivered slightly as he hauled his little brother forward, hugging him gruffly. I smiled because only Dixon's could look pissed hugging it out. The separated, both turning their heads away from each other as they blinked rapidly, and I could just imagine them blaming it on allergies. Daryl eased into the backseat of the car, lifting my upper body as he sat down. He carefully adjusted my body, positioning my head in his lap as I relaxed into him, his eyes never leaving my face. His body carried an impossible tension that made me tired just watching him as he swept the hair out of my eyes.

Merle got behind the wheel, shifting around and peering down at me with a look I didn't understand and the pounding in my head wouldn't let me decipher. He reached out with his flesh hand, eyes still glistening as he laid it on top of mine. I smiled at him, trying to show him how proud I was without saying a word. I reached up with my hand, covering his. He took a deep breath before releasing me, wiping angrily at his eyes like they were betraying him as he turned around in the seat, the car moving forward again.

I looked back at Daryl whose eyes never strayed from my face for a moment. He looked haggard. His clothes sweaty, face covered in dirt, hair plastered to the side of his head and I wondered idly if he ran the whole way. I could tell he had 1,000 things he wanted to say, but this time it wasn't that I didn't want to hear them. I couldn't. Literally.

"Are you OK?" I asked or screamed judging by his wince and the violent swerve of the car. "Sorry," I tried again at a lower volume, but must still be talking at a volume only dog's found comforting.

He smiled down at me, giving me a small nod by way of an answer, putting a single finger to his lips. He never stopped caressing the top of my head in a rhythmic motion that felt divine. In lieu of speaking and all of us dying in a car accident when Merle freaked out I shifted (snuggled) into his lap, my eyelids growing heavier and heavier, but before I fell asleep I was struck by a sobering realization. The man holding me was like gravity. It didn't matter how hard or far I pushed him he refused to leave my side and sooner or later I was pulled back into his orbit. I was helpless to resist. What's more, I didn't want to. I finally fell asleep wondering if the kiss I felt against my forehead was real or just a dream.

* * *

 **This is my first major divergence from the show. I feel like Merle's character is a vast ocean of unexplored potential. The relationship with him and Daryl, Alex, everyone else, is just too much of an opportunity to pass up. Plus, he is so much fun to write I wanted him to stick around. **

**What do you guys think? Are you happy the elder redneck survived?**

 **I hope so. I got big plans for him ;)**


	33. Can't Blame You for Trying

**Can't Blame You for Trying**

No rest for the weary.

My grandmother was fond of that saying. I can't remember how many times I heard it on countless summer mornings when my sister and I were forced to rise before the sun to do chores.

My grandparents owned a sprawling 250-acre ranch in the hill country of East Texas. Before my dad drove off a cliff with my mom in tow they could afford to hire hands to help with the cows, horses, pigs and chickens, but after two grandchildren unexpectedly became their responsibility, not so much. Raising children was expensive. Raising two children they never expected to have in their care forced them to take a second mortgage on their home, empty the retirement account they were only a few years from enjoying, and meant no more full-time staff at the ranch.

Of course I wouldn't find any of this out until much later in life. All I knew at the time was getting up at the ass crack of dawn was for the birds, and I let my grandmother know it. She only smiled, dumped a load of farm fresh, scrambled eggs on my plate and told me there was no rest for the weary. Sometimes I think my grandmother would have fared far better in the apocalypse than any of us.

Stuffing the last of my meager possession into my pitifully small pack I took one last look around Cellblock C and sighed, hoping this wouldn't be the last time I stood here. Yesterday while I was out frolicking through the woods and blowing shit up Rick put our fate in the group's hands. For the first time since he declared a Rick-tator-ship he allowed them to make the choice to fight or run. They chose to fight. I was shocked when I found out. I would have bet money they'd vote to run, but people could only take so much before they started punching back and we'd finally hit our limit.

The plan to stay by making it look as if were gone was kinda brilliant. The Governor had us in terms of manpower and weapons, but we knew this prison inside and out, and we could use that to our advantage. Besides, The Governor's arrogance played right into our hands. Deadpool said we didn't need to win. We just needed to make it more trouble than it was worth. I excelled at being more trouble than I was worth so this plan was right up my alley. The Governor may not be willing to admit defeat, but we were betting our lives and our home his people would. We didn't believe they would die for this place.

Hopefully we were right.

"Come on Firecracker, we ain't got all day!" Merle yelled. And just like that I wished for hearing loss. Pulling the pack onto my shoulder I walked down the metal staircase. "That all ya got?"

"That all you've got?" I looked him up and down slowly to emphasize the point. I may only have a small backpack full of crap, but it was one more backpack full of crap than he had. The man had nothing except the clothes on his back, literally. Carl walked out of his cell, a bag bigger than he was slung over his shoulder. "You good?"

"Gotta be." Man, I loved this kid. He stopped beside me, adjusting the shoulder strap as he eyed me critically. "You good?"

"The ringing is down to a dull symphony playing in the background. Hershel says it should be gone by tomorrow." I put my finger in my ear and wiggled it up-and-down a few times, shaking my head for good measure. "At least the vertigo's gone."

Falling down all the time was only fun when you were drunk.

When the three of us arrived back at the prison yesterday we were swarmed by the group who were equal parts shocked at our state of arrival and outraged with Merle's failed plan. Daryl was forced to jump out of the car to get between his brother and Glenn before WWIII broke out, and from what I could see (since I still couldn't hear a damn thing) threats and accusations were being lobbed from both parties. At that moment I was thankful for the pounding in my head and the roaring in my ears.

It wasn't until I drug myself out of the backseat, screamed something at the top of my lungs even though I was trying for a hushed whisper and then promptly fell over that everything ceased. Rick and Daryl half carried, half drug me into Hershel's bunk where the good 'ol doc promptly came to the conclusion I got blown up. And people say medical school was a waste of money.

Last night was more awkward than faking an orgasm during bad sex. Most everyone retreated to a cell, not to be seen again until morning, which was about as far from normal as things got around here. There were always people up and about at all hours of the day and night, but not last night. Last night you could hear the moans of the dead through the 10-inch thick concrete walls it was so quiet or so I was later told.

Glenn and Maggie were holed up together as they fumed (came to grips) with our newest addition. Carol and Beth tended to Nugget, who had a rough night if the purple bags under their eyes this morning were any indication. Carl surprisingly invited Deadpool to bunk with him, and sent his father a death glare in the process. Hershel checked on me once before retiring for the evening and Rick had only stayed in the cellblock long enough to make sure I was going to survive the night before leaving to take watch. Daryl and Merle took up residence in a cell directly in front of the perch. I may not be able to hear a thing, but I could still see and their lingering stares of concern made me uncomfortable. Thankfully ignoring them was the easiest thing I'd done all week. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow or rather the mattress.

By morning Daryl was long gone, which was fine, really, but Merle was a different story. Before breakfast Rick informed me using shitty sign language and then a whiteboard and marker that the older redneck was "our responsibility". Our being Daryl and me. I ranted against the assignment, but Rick just cocked one eyebrow, pretended he was the deaf one and left. I pouted at my table for a solid half hour. Being responsible for Merle was like trying to find all your socks once you take them out of the dryer. Impossible.

Turned out worrying about keeping track of the wayward hillbilly was a non-issue. He hovered better than a helicopter mom. The one and only place he allowed me a moment's privacy was the bathroom. I was contemplating moving there permanently if this plan worked out. He even helped with our efforts to prepare for The Governor's impending arrival with minimal lewd comments and gestures. I'd worry about the chances of his behavior lasting the night after we didn't die.

"I'll see you outside," Carl said, giving me a tiny smile that didn't reach his eyes before throwing a steely-eyed glare Merle's direction.

"I don't think he likes you," I murmured as the boy left.

Merle smiled, impervious to his hatred or anyone else's for that matter.

"I'll grow on 'em."

"Like herpes." He snorted, grabbing the pack off my shoulder, striding out of the cellblock. "I can carry my own bag."

"Come on lil' sister."

I groaned, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation. "We're not married!"

His booming laugh echoed in the empty cellblock.

Outside the preparations to leave were well underway, and I marveled again at how far we had come as a group. Never in a million years did I think the ragtag group of people who couldn't extricate a lone walker from a well would be gearing up to ambush an invading army. It was admirable. Stupid, but admirable.

"Think this will work?" Rick asked, hands on his hips as he eyed the trees in the distance.

"If we do it right, yeah."

In reality we had less than a 50 percent chance, but those kinds of odds tended to make people uncomfortable so I kept it to myself.

He shook his head, deep in thought. "Michonne says you have a knack for motivational speaking."

That bitch. This was payback for calling her Deadpool.

"I wouldn't say that." I had a knack for plagiarism.

He looked at me. "She disagrees. So does Hershel." I looked at the ground, rolling my eyes. "Take a look around Alex."

So I did.

I watched Carl as he angrily stomped around the yard, his mind focused on his father's betrayal instead of the impending firefight. My eyes swung to Beth who was trying and failing to hide the shake in her hands as she loaded bags into the back of the car. Hershel was propped up against a car, his eyes bouncing back-and-forth between his daughters, face pale. Glenn and Maggie were strapping on riot gear in silence, heads down, shoulders slumped, their semi-automatic rifles lying at their feet. Carol stood beside Daryl her face determined, but eyes terrified. Daryl looked ready for battle, per the norm, but resigned to his fate should the chips not fall in our favor, also per the norm. I excluded Deadpool and Merle from my examination. The former didn't possess the ability to display human emotions and the latter was fucking crazy.

"Yeah," I conceded. "What do you want _me_ to do about it?"

He turned, putting a hand on my shoulder, blue eyes pleading. "You've done this before." I stared at him, but when he didn't continue I shook my head yes. "They haven't."

"Rick, I can't turn them into Soldiers in the next half hour." I also couldn't triple our numbers and weapons.

"Maybe not, but you can make them feel like Soldiers."

"That might not be a good thing." When he frowned I added, "Being scared could keep them alive."

His lips pulled into a thin line, his hands squeezing my shoulders. "It could also get them killed."

Rick – 1, Alex – 0.

He was right. There was a fine line between confidence and recklessness. Any Soldier that told you they weren't scared on the eve of battle was lying. A healthy dose of fear was not only inevitable it was a good thing. It kept you grounded and focused. It was when you let the fear overwhelmed you, paralyzed you with inaction that bad things happened. Right now our group looked destined for bad things.

"OK," I reluctantly agreed.

He gathered the group, halting our hasty preparations as I scoured my mind for the right words. When I looked up into the eyes of my friends turned family I struggled to find _any_ words. They looked at me like I held the key to their salvation. It made me feel like a fraud, a very nervous fraud. There was nothing I could say that would change our fate. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and I refused to make promises I couldn't keep. They trusted me. Trusted my training. Trusted my instincts. If I told them we could win they would believe me and that trust might kill us all.

A hush fell over the group as they stood in front of me. I took a deep breath, looking at their faces, taking them in, memorizing them. I wouldn't promise victory. I couldn't lie to them, but I could give them hope. I'd faced bigger odds than we would today and lived to tell the tale. They could too. Sometimes it wasn't about firepower or tactics, numbers or weapons. Sometimes it came down to belief, loyalty, and a willingness to die for a cause. We had that. The Governor didn't.

I took a deep breath, taking my time exhaling. Sometimes it wasn't _what_ you said. It was _how_ you said it. My flare for the dramatic would come in handy right now.

"Let me tell you something you already know. The world isn't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very _mean_ and _nasty_ place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it."

I paused, pacing slowly in front of them, taking the time to look each and every one of them in the eye.

"Nobody, not even The Governor, is going to hit as hard as life, but it isn't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can _get hit_ and keep moving forward. How much you can _take_ and _keep moving forward!_ That's how winning is done!"

I stopped, fists clenched at my side, my own confidence swelling as I spoke. The once terrified faces of my family slowly but surely gaining confidence as they listened.

"This is not our end. This is not where we die."

I stopped in front of Beth giving the young woman an encouraging nod, watching her face morph into a warrior before my very eyes.

"This is where we fight!" I pointed at the prison behind me, Glenn hollering, his weapon above his head as Maggie and Carl followed suit. "This is where _they die!_ "

A resounded cheer erupted from the group. I watched as they slapped one another on the back and shouted war cries, a belief we could pull this off expanding like a balloon. We still didn't look like much, but at least we weren't pissing our pants in fear.

Rick stepped out of the frenzied mob, making his way to me. "Wow."

I shrugged. "Should do the trick."

The ability to spout bullshit at a moment's notice was my gift to mankind.

"I'll say," he smiled, slapping me on the back as he walked away.

Deadpool appeared at my side, silently watching the group, her arms crossed over her chest as she clutched her samurai sword in one hand.

"Rocky," she stated, not looking at me. I hummed in agreement. "What else?"

"300."

She nodded, a devious smile on her face. "Good movie."

"Great movie."

Any movie with half naked, ripped, oiled up men was good in my book. I would have watched that movie if all they did was read from the dictionary for two and a half hours.

"I like how you mix-and-match them," she commented. "Keeps them from noticing."

I snorted, "That and the fear of imminent death."

If I tried this any other time my odds of being outed skyrocketed.

"There is that."

I thought I saw an almost smile on her stony face, but she pushed off the wall and was gone before I could verify.

"Alright, everyone get to your spots," Rick called out.

Our plan was simple. Make it look like we abandoned the prison and once The Governor's people stormed the place kill as many as we could with walkers and bullets. We had intentionally left the gate leading to The Tombs unlocked. While everyone else gathered belongings and weapons Merle and I had spent the better part of the morning drawing as many as walkers as we could into the maze of hallways. We were playing a hunch that The Governor's insatiable need for revenge would override his better judgment. Assuming he had any.

When he couldn't find any trace of us in the cellblock he would lead his people into The Tombs. When they saw what awaited them down there they would flee like rats on a sinking ship. Everybody was a hero when they could hide behind high walls lined with machine guns. The Governor's resolve may be unbreakable, but his followers was not. They were weak, vulnerable, and untested.

Hershel, Beth, Carl and Nugget headed out via a hole in the fence on the west side of the prison. I had a fair amount of confidence in our plan, but those four were the most vulnerable among us so if this didn't work they would need every inch of their head start. Hopefully by the time The Governor did the math counting dead bodies they would be long gone. How long they could survive on the road alone wasn't something I wanted to consider.

My heart sank when Carl ignored his father's attempt to speak with him before he left, but we didn't have time to mend the broken relationship. Carl was angry and I of all people understood that anger. Losing a parent when you're young does things to you and that didn't even account for the fact he'd been forced to kill her the second time. That was a lot for _anyone_ to handle much less a young boy. His rage over his dad's plan to hand over Deadpool was just lighter fluid on an already raging inferno. I could only hope he would find his way back from this. Find a way to live with the hate and anger. If he didn't then it would consume him.

"You guys good?" Rick asked Maggie and Glenn who were clad head-to-toe in riot gear.

I kept my face carefully blank as I watched them. Riot gear was designed to ward off hyped up prisoners wielding homemade toothbrush shanks not .50 caliber bullets.

"Yeah."

Glenn's voice broke and we all pretended like we didn't hear it, offering them confident smiles and reassuring nods as the pair went to their defensive positions. The two of them would take up flanking positions around the main entrance. Carol would stick close to Daryl hidden behind the main administrative building in case they somehow successfully navigated The Tombs and exited near the southern part of the prison. Rick and Merle were taking up positions on the west and east sides respectively behind overturned vehicles in case The Governor decided to spice things up and not bombard the front entrance. Deadpool was the designated rover, moving between all positions providing backup as needed. That left me on the roof because it was a roof and that was my thing.

"Let's do this," Rick said with a nod, jogging off.

I stared at him with a grimace. His motivational speaking skills were abysmal. "Man, he sucks at that."

"It's shocking," Deadpool added.

I chuckled, "If I let him try to rally the troops earlier they'd just as soon eat a bullet as fire one. Jesus."

A loud, strange, alarming sound spilled out of Deadpool, her shoulders shaking slightly, and I jumped away from her, knife raised in case I needed to kill something to make the sound stop.

"What the...are you OK?" The odd sound stopped abruptly, her face transforming back to her familiar scowl and I dropped my knife in relief. "Thank god. You really scared me there for a second."

She stalked off without another word, Carol taking her place beside me.

"I've never heard her laugh." My eyes bulged.

 _"That's what that was?"_

I thought she was choking or dying or being inappropriately probed by aliens.

Carol chuckled, pulling me in for a quick hug. "Be careful."

"Always am," I told her, "Don't die." She winked at me, heading off towards the south side of the prison leaving me alone with the Dixon brothers. Awkward much? "Alright, well, you two have fun killing people." I turned to leave, but before I could take a step I was engulfed in the arms of Merle Dixon who hugged me so tight my feet left the ground for a second. When he set me down, finally, I gave him a strange look. "Thanks for that. I guess."

He smirked, "Give 'em hell Firecracker."

I couldn't stop the smile that lit up my face as I watched him leave. Was it my imagination or was he growing on me? Probably growing on me like a nail fungus, but still. He was different since we returned from his failed suicide mission. Granted it'd been less than 24 hours, but the journey of 1,000 miles and all that bullshit.

Daryl didn't say anything, shocker, so I made my way towards the side of the building adjacent to Cellblock C. Slinging my rifle across my back I backed up a few steps, eyeing the metal rungs of the ladder bolted to the brick wall a few feet above my head.

"Here," Daryl offered, standing with his back against the building, hands interlaced in front of him, crossbow discarded on the ground. I looked from his hands to his face, confused. "I'll give ya a boost."

"A boost?"

"Yeah."

I didn't need a boost and he damn well knew it, but I was at a loss as to how to politely decline the offer in such a limited amount of time so I nodded mutely. It felt like I was walking the plank as I inched closer to him. I didn't know if the tingling in my body that got more intense with each shuffle of my feet was dread or anticipation. There was a very real possibility this would be the hardest thing I did today which was crazy considering our circumstances.

My mouth went bone dry when I placed my hands on his broad shoulders. I could feel the tightly coiled muscles of his shoulders under my palms and felt my breathing hitch. When my hand brushed skin due to his torn shirt beads of sweat poured down the side of my face. I had to remind myself to keep breathing as I inched closer putting my left foot in his waiting hands.

His body was tense under my touch and when his deep, blue eyes flicked to my lips I found it hard to swallow around the brick lodged in my throat. Was it my imagination or was he leaning into me? My body betrayed me, acting on its own as I leaned in. We were so close all I needed to do was "slip" just a little and our lips would touch.

"Ready?" he asked in a husky, strangled voice.

"For what?"

What were we doing again?

He smirked, the rat bastard, and I tried to glare at him, but it was too dreamy to really be intimidating.

"A boost," he reminded me.

I shook my head to restart my brain. Focus you horny bitch.

"Right, a boost."

Duh, a boost. Can't you remembering anything you raging slut? Like the fact you don't want this man to touch you or put his tongue in your mouth or lick your red-haired lass like a melting popsicle.

What?!

His face scrunched up in confusion as I reeled back from him suddenly, my arms and legs flailing like a windmill as I stumbled. Inappropriate thoughts bounced around my head like an out-of-control, inappropriate, ping-pong ball.

"Ya alright?"

After what felt like an eternity of _almost_ falling I regained my balance, but not my sense of equilibrium. This man had me a decided disadvantage.

"There was a bee." I was an idiot.

He looked around, "A bee?"

I waved both hands around in the air, pointing everywhere and nowhere like a lunatic.

"Yeah, a bee, it almost nailed me." My eyes went wide. No. I. Did. Not. "Kissed me." Someone kill me now. "Stung me!" I shouted at him, finally getting it right. Stop talking you moron! "I'm allergic."

"To bees?"

"To venom in general." What the hell was I saying? "Bees, snakes, scorpions, pufferfish, you know, poisonous things. I'm allergic to poisonous things."

"Uh huh," he grinned, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

I cleared my throat, taking a step forward and putting my hands back on his shoulders.

"Let's get this over with." Could you die from blushing? Where was Hershel when you needed him?

"On three." How he managed to make a two syllable phrase sound smug I'll never know. I kept my mouth sealed shut, afraid of what might come out if I didn't (nothing good), offering him a curt nod that only made him smile. Asshole. "One. Two."

He pushed up hard on two, my arms flapping against the brick wall, my balance totally off when he went too soon. I clumsily reached for the metal laughter making a mental note to murder the redneck below me.

Balancing with one foot in his wobbling hands and my furback turtle practically shoved in his face was impossible. All I could think about was sitting on his face and that most certainly was not part of the plan. He laughed loud, like he could somehow hear my thoughts which he probably could the mutant.

And...just like that...the inappropriate thoughts were back, burning a trail straight from my slutty brain to my sex deprived hoo-ha like a surge of electricity. I threw together a string of curses that would make Satan blush as I failed yet again to grab the fucking ladder.

It took me three more tries to finally wrap a sweaty hand around the first rung. Three embarrassing tries that saw me almost face plant into the concrete wall, almost tumble sideways down to the ground and almost pitch backwards and crack my already fragile noggin.

When I finally had a solid hold on the bottom rung I hauled myself out of his hold as fast as possible, bracing my feet against the concrete, but I was still off balance. In more ways than one. I tipped precariously to the left, a strangled yelp coming from my lips as I tried and failed to regain my balance before I face planted into the wall, again. Daryl reached up, stopping my momentum and righting my body before I toppled over like Humpty Dumpty. Once I had two hands securely on the bottom rung and two feet firmly planted against the wall I paused, looking down at him .

"Why is your hand on my ass?"

"Just tryin' to be helpful."

"That's not helpful," I explained, pulling myself up to the next rung and out of the reach of his wandering hands.

"Not what ya used to say," he mumbled.

"I heard that."

"Ya were meant to," he boldly smiled at me. Laughing at intimate innuendos, making sex jokes, who was _this_ _person_? Shaking my head I started the climb up, but was stopped as he called out, "Red."

I froze on the ladder, the normal ache that accompanied the nickname flaring in my chest. I looked down at him, face purposefully blank, waiting. He looked torn. Between what I had no idea. He could read me like a book, but even after everything we'd been through he was still a complete mystery to me.

"I'll see ya again."

He didn't wait for a reply, turning on his heel and striding purposefully towards Carol.

"This side or the other," I whispered into the wind.

"That was a startling display of athleticism," Deadpool said with a snicker, her voice booming in the walkie talkie clipped to my belt.

"I agree with my Nubian Queen," Merle added, his voice shaking with laughter. Several others chimed in simply to laugh.

Hauling myself onto the roof I yanked the walkie talkie off my belt. "I hate you all."

I settled against the wall which gave me a clear view of the main entrance. I believed The Governor was too hotheaded for subtly. He would come barreling in through the front door like a totally jackass and that played directly into our hand. I loaded a magazine into my rifle adjusting the sight and scanning the tree line. The waiting was always the hardest part.

Thankfully we didn't have to wait long. Say what you want about the guy, but he was punctual. Less than 20 minutes later the faint sounds of a convoy could be heard rumbling down the road. The first vehicle to round the corner at breakneck speed was an old military Humvee complete with a technical bolted in the back. A deuce and a half full of Soldiers followed closely behind it with a few trail vehicles crammed full of people.

Good lord. And I thought my sister over packed. I bet he was a hoarder in his former life.

Before they even reached the first fence someone with a grenade launcher took out a guard tower and seconds later an M240 machine gun fired on another, cutting through the poorly reinforced structure like paper. Guess it was a good thing we decided not to use those.

The convoy sped into the yard, the tires on the Humvee popping as it rolled over Deadpool's makeshift spike strip. The guy manning the M240 fired on the prison, taking out walkers as the Soldier's in the deuce and a half opened fire as well. These guys were so trigger happy they had yet to realize no one was shooting back.

I kept my head low, using the scope of my rifle to counted numbers, weapons, and vehicles. When I saw Martinez reloading a grenade launcher and taking out another unmanned guard tower I rolled my eyes. This fucking guy.

It took the dumb-asses another minute and countless rounds of wasted ammunition to finally stop, their eyes wide as they looked around in confusion. On a positive note, the yard was now clear of walkers so thanks for that. The Governor ordered everyone out of the vehicles, pushing them forward, a supped up Bronco providing cover as they poured into the prison, passing feet below me. I held my breath when they walked past Maggie and Glenn's hiding spots only exhaling when it was clear they didn't see them.

Everyone looked to The Governor for guidance and I had to tell myself several times to calm down before I pulled the trigger and removed his head from his shoulders. Instead I watched as the Bronco pulled off the door leading into our cellblock, the Soldiers rushing in with their weapons raised. Man what I wouldn't give to see The Governor's face when he found Hershel's highlighted Bible verse. That was a mic drop, biblical style.

"They're inside," I whispered into my walkie talkie.

"Ten minutes then they're yours Merle." Rick's voice crackled to life.

"Copy that," Merle replied.

"Are you sure the bombs will work Alex?" Rick asked and I frowned at my walkie talkie.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that." My shit always worked sometimes.

In addition to attracting walkers into The Tombs this morning I'd also stuck several party favors to the wall. Bombs I made using CS Triple Chasers, a smidgen of C4 and my overactive imagination. I could make a bomb out dental floss, magnets and a few bouncy balls and Rick doubted me when I was using a ready-made explosives. His lack of faith was disturbing.

"There in The Tombs," Merle reported, "I can see their flashlights through the windows."

"Ready on the trigger," Rick reported.

"Just a few more seconds. Let them sumbitches get a little closer," Merle said. We collective held our breaths, waiting for the hillbilly's signal. "Now!" Two seconds later a muffled boom sounded followed closely by another. "Hot damn, that got 'em."

"Daryl, the alarm!" Rick instructed.

The piercing wail of the security alarm filled the air and I smiled as gunfire erupted in the bowls of the prison. There were bad days and then there were days like those guys were having.

It took less than five minutes for them to come running out of the prison like they were on fire and it was worth noting a couple actually were. I tucked my rifle into my shoulder, scanning the terrified crowd as Glenn and Maggie opened fire, their bullets pinging harmlessly at their feet. A group of military wannabe's turned, their eyes fixated on Maggie's location, but I fired at the one in the middle before they could finish raising their weapons. His head exploded all over his friends and they dropped their weapons in horror, turning and sprinting away from the prison.

The Governor and Martinez scrambled out of the cellblock, sprinting across the open concrete basketball court. A small group poorly hidden behind a building covered their escape, but when he stuck his head out a little too far I squeezed the trigger. His body fell forward, the red pouring from his head a stark contrast on the white concrete as the group huddled by the dead man screamed, blindingly firing at the roof.

I ducked behind the cover of the concrete wall, waiting for them to stop shooting. Once they did I popped back up, immediately locating The Governor by the vehicles in the yard. It was complete chaos people jumped into vehicles even pulling others out in an effort to save themselves. A man in an olive drab hat climbed into the back of the Humvee heading for the M240 and I put a bullet between his eyes.

The Governor's head looked right and left as the man's dead body tumbled out of the vehicle. I swear to all things holy he mumbled my name as he glared daggers at the building, but there was absolutely no way he could see me at this distance. Especially with only one working eye.

He grabbed Martinez, pointing in my general direction before shoving him forward and ducking behind the cover of a car before I could get a shot off. I twisted the knob on my scope, focusing in on the last spot I saw him, looking for an angle to take the shot, but the sight of Martinez loading another grenade into his launcher made my mouth drop open.

"Oh shit," I mumbled, already on my feet, pulling my rifle strap over my head as I sprinted towards the opposite side of the roof.

"Alex, get out of there!" Rick screamed through the walkie talkie.

Working on it.

I heard the whistle of the approaching grenade and knew I only had seconds, if that, so climbing down using the ladder wasn't an option. I was going to have to use the Sir Isaac Newton escape route.

At the edge of the roof I braced one hand on the edge, throwing my legs over the wall, letting gravity do the work of getting me the hell off the roof before it exploded. Unfortunately gravity was a little _too_ helpful. I was falling alright, but too fast to get a solid hold o the ladder.

My panic increased exponentially each time my hand slapped against metal only to have it slip through my fingers, literally. Just when I was ready to cancel Christmas my left hand hit against the ladder, my fingers automatically wrapping around the thin bar as my downward momentum was instantly halted. The impact of such an abrupt stop made my shoulder feel like it was going rip clean from my body. Somehow I managed to hold on despite the sting of muscles and tendons stretching painfully. The grenade impacted the top of the building with an earsplitting ** _BOOM_**.

The building shook, pieces of concrete exploding into a haze of flying debris. The force of the blast was no match for my tenuous grip on the ladder as my body was thrown from the ladder. I fell for a good eight feet before slamming into a sizeable pile of cardboard boxes. What little air was left in my lungs was punched out in one painful puff.

"Ouch."

I laid at the bottom of the stack of flattened boxes experimentally moving all my limbs one at a time checking for serious damage. I was beyond grateful when all my fingers and toes moved not giving a rat's ass about the pain it caused.

"Alex!"

Rick's voice was frantic in the walkie talkie, but before I could even think about answering boxes starting flying left and right.

"Red!" Daryl's frightened voice yelled somewhere above me.

"Here," I answered, another couple of boxes were tossed away before I saw both Carol and Daryl leaning over me. "Hey guys."

Daryl's lips were thin, face pale, the vein in his forehead pulsating rapidly as he grabbed my arms and hoisted me out of the pile of boxes with one firm yank. I groaned, my body protesting with the ache of soreness, but considering I jumped off a building I couldn't really complain.

"That asshole shot a grenade at me." Not cool Martinez. Not cool at all.

"He did," Carol hummed in agreement, picking up my rifle.

"What a dick."

"You OK?" she asked, her motherly instincts simply too robust to suppress for any significant period of time.

"I'm so fucking over getting blown up."

She gave me condescending look, "You also jumped off a building. That certainly didn't help matters." She said it like I had other options. "Did you know the boxes were there?"

"Yes." No.

Daryl snarled beside me like a rabid dog, complete with the foaming mouth, and I sent her a warning look she completely ignored. I followed behind her as she made her way to the front gate, Daryl hovering by my side like a shadow. I rolled my left shoulder trying and failing to regain a feeling other than pure agony in the stretched joint. Merle, Rick, Glenn, Deadpool and Maggie jogged up just in time to witness the last of The Governor's men make their retreat.

"Christ Alex, are you alright?" Rick eyed me up-and-down and I followed his gaze.

My clothes were covered in soot, concrete dust, and cardboard box remnants. I made a half-hearted attempt to wipe some of the evidence away, but only succeeded in smearing most of it so I gave up with a painful shrug.

"I'm good."

I felt Daryl's eyes on me, but kept my gaze focused on the smoking remains of the guard tower. Rick didn't look convinced either, but really, what could you do when someone jumped off a building to avoid a grenade? Answer, not much.

"We did it," Rick pronounced. "We drove 'em out."

"We should go after them," Deadpool stated.

"Second that opinion." Rick looked at me in question. "Letting them re-group would be a mistake. They won't make the same mistakes again."

"I'm with Red," Daryl said. Technically he was with Deadpool, but I didn't bother correcting him. "We should finish it."

" _It is finished_. Didn't you see them hightail it outta here?" Maggie asked.

"You heard what Alex said," Carol interjected, "They could regroup."

"We can't take that chance. He's not gonna stop," Glenn said with a shake of his head.

That was the God's honest truth. That man wouldn't stop until he was six feet under and even then I'd keep an eye on him.

"They're right. We can't keep living like this."

Carol was as self-assured as I'd ever heard her and my heart swelled with pride. It'd taken the end of the world, but she was finally standing up for herself, letting her voice, her opinions be heard.

"So we take the fight back to Woodbury?" Maggie was outraged at the prospect and I understood her hesitation. Last time we were there her boyfriend was beaten and she was almost raped. "We barely made it back last time."

"I don't care," Daryl commented bluntly and I could tell by the look in his eyes he didn't.

"Either we die or he does," I pronounced.

Daryl nodded at my side as Rick looked at Merle who was uncharacteristically quiet.

"What about you?"

It spoke volumes that Rick was asking his opinion. Volumes of _what_ was still to be determined.

The elder redneck crossed his arms over his chest. "I go where they go," he nodded his head at Daryl and me.

Well, weren't we one big, happy, fake family?

Rick nodded in agreement, "Let's check on the others."

In my haze of being launched off a roof by a grenade I'd forgotten about Carl, Nugget, Beth and Hershel. We took off at a jog towards the cellblock, my heat hammering in my chest. Once we were inside I just kept repeating the phrase "please be alright" over-and-over in my head until Beth finally walked through the door with an unharmed Nugget in her arms.

I sagged against the wall in relief, my legs sliding out from under me, but Daryl's hand shot out to stop my fall. I braced my hands against my knees, legs shaking until I finally saw Carl then Hershel shuffle in. They were alive. They were alright. I said it a few more times, my eyes searching the children just to be sure. Closing my eyes I silently told Lori, wherever she was, that her children were safe.

"Come on."

Daryl ushered me outside, guiding me to a set of nearby bleachers before disappearing to do...whatever it was Daryl did in his spare time. Not talk to people? Manufacture arrows out of thin air? Grunt at things?

Carol handed me my rifle and I sent her a nod of gratitude, laying the weapon across my lap as the raiding party raced around gathering supplies. Merle flopped down beside me with a dramatic sigh.

"Close call Firecracker." I didn't respond, my head in my hands as I fought a migraine threatening to melt the contents of my brain out my ears. "Maybe ya should sit this round out." I sent him my best eat shit and die look. He held his hand up in surrender, not looking nearly as worried as I would've liked. "Just sayin', look a little beat."

"It's the end of the world and we're at war. Pretty sure this is just my face now."

"Fair enough," he smiled, stretching out his legs as he leaned back like he didn't have a care in the world. I envied him. There were definite advantages to not giving a fuck. It helped when people didn't expect anything from you either. "Sounds like the little sheriff's gonna turn out just like his poppa."

"Merle," I ground out, his head turning slightly to look at me, "I would hate to have gone through all the trouble of saving your life only to kill you now. Stop talking."

"Sure thing lil' sister."

He was officially the most annoying person left on the planet.

Less than 10 minutes later the we were ready to go. Gingery I climbed to my feet, eyes sliding over to the father and son huddled a few feet away. From what little I overheard Carl killed a Woodbury resident in the woods. A boy no less. Carl argued self-defense. Hershel argued cold-blooded murder. Another problem for a different time.

Deadpool glanced at me, raising her eyebrows in question. I waved off her concern with a flick of my wrist. She sighed in disapproval, but held open a backpack full of ammunition. I gave her a toothy grin as I reached in and grabbed a few (dozen) rounds for my PPQ.

"Any grenades left?" I owed Martinez a thank you.

She snatched the backpack away, "Rick said no more explosives for you."

Rick was no fun.

"Whatever."

I was 99% sure Merle had one in his cargo pocket. He would help me out. He hated Martinez. Problem solved. Rick walked back, his head hung low and I ground my teeth together. Whatever Carl said in his defense didn't look good.

"We're staying," Glenn announced, "We don't know where The Governor is, if he comes back...we'll hold him off."

"Just the five of us?" Daryl asked, referring to the raiding party, slinging an M16 over his shoulder. "Alright."

"I appreciate you staying," Rick told the pair, patting Glenn on the shoulder.

I bit my lip, reluctant to leave them. The fear for my friends far greater than the fear for myself.

"Don't expect him to attack through the main gate," I started, looking between them, "He knows our defenses now, has a better lay of the land. Be ready to move and don't forget the blind spots on the south end of the prison. If you get pinned down..."

"We know Alex," Maggie said with a small smile before pulling me in for a hug.

I held her tight, whispering in her ear, "Take care of Carl and Nugget." She nodded. I turned to Glenn, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Good luck."

"You too."

The roar of Daryl's motorcycle drowned out anything else we might say and I gave them one final look before heading to the truck. Climbing into the backseat I looked beside me at Merle. He gave me a half-smile, rolling down his window and cocking his elbow out, completely at ease. I vaguely wondered if anything stressed the man out. Daryl led us out of the prison, the group remaining at the prison clearing out the walkers built up near the gate so we had a clear path.

Less than 20 minutes later the truck rolled to a stop on the side of the road. The deuce and a half from the attack was parked in the middle of the road, abandoned. There were dead bodies littering the road with a fair number of walkers feasting on their flesh.

Stepping out of the truck I left my rifle on the seat, grabbing my PPQ and a knife instead. Daryl and Deadpool took down the closest walkers as the rest of us followed close behind. I stopped at the first two bodies, squatting down to examined the scene. The man was shot at close range multiple times in the chest, most likely with an automatic rifle given the shot placement. Another, a woman, had a single gunshot wound to the head, her blood still wet on the pavement. I touched her hand, still warm. They hadn't been dead long. I looked at the rest of the victims releasing a heavy sigh. They were all dressed like civilians. I didn't see any of the paramilitary wannabe's The Governor used as bodyguards. These people were slaughtered where they stood, and if I had to guess it was The Governor's doing.

I glanced at Merle who had a distant look in his eyes as he surveyed the massacre. He used the toe of his boot to roll a body over, exhaling harshly when he saw the face. He knew the man. May even called him a friend or as close to a friend as Merle ever got. He'd lived at Woodbury and despite the nature of his exodus it wasn't all bad times.

A sudden bang on the window of the enormous truck had every weapon we owned aimed at the old military vehicle. I expected The Governor or even a walker, but it was a woman. Daryl glanced at me over his shoulder and I nodded, keeping my weapon pointed at her head as he opened the door and motioned for her to get out. She nodded frantically, her hands up and shaking as she climbed down clumsily.

"Get on your knees," I instructed and she complied without hesitation practically throwing herself at my feet. "What happened?"

She may look non-threatening, but so did I when I wanted to.

"The...The Governor...he killed them...he killed them all," she stuttered, eyes glistening with fresh tears.

I stepped forward, pressing the barrel of my PPQ against her temple. "And he just let you live?"

I'd faced enough suicide bombers to know outward appearances were not to be trusted.

"He didn't," she insisted, tears streaming down both cheeks. "We were all scared. We never wanted a war and when we tried to tell him we just wanted to peace he...he went crazy. He started shooting. I hide under a body. I held my breath until he left. Please, you have to believe me."

"Alex," Rick said, walking forward and placing a hand on my arm. I sighed heavily, but lowered my weapon and took a step back. She could cry until the cows came home. If she made a move I was putting a bullet in her brain. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," she cried.

"What's your name?"

"K-K-Karen."

Rick nodded, looking around, hands on his hips in thought. "Get her up and put her in the truck."

"What?" Deadpool sounded as shocked as I felt. We were taking her with us? "You want to take her with us?"

I pointed at Deadpool shaking my head in agreement. Great minds.

"She can help get us inside," Rick insisted and I scoffed. That was a stretch. Just because she lived there didn't mean she would or could help.

"She could also shoot us in the back," I muttered under my breath.

His lips twitched in amusement. "Then we'll keep her in front of us."

"I can help," she insisted, still crying. If she wanted to help me she could start by shutting up. "I can get you inside."

"Let's go." Rick moved towards the truck, grabbing Karen as he passed and dragging her behind him.

"This is a bad idea," Deadpool mumbled and I nodded, pivoting on my heel.

When I got to the truck my steps faltered. Karen was sitting in the backseat wailing. _In my seat_. I stared at her for a beat before taking a step back and bracing my arms against the window pane of the passenger door, glaring at Rick. He held his hands up in apology, looking at the sobbing woman in the backseat. The look on his face told me he was reconsidering his decision to bring Krying Karen.

"I can't handle this shit," I told him, pointing at Karen. "When Nugget does it it's cute. That," I waved my hand around her head, "Is not fucking cute."

Was that a snot bubble? Good lord woman, pull yourself together.

"I-I-I'm s-s-so-o-ory," she wailed, looking around at the occupants of the truck before throwing herself across the back seat right into Merle's shoulder. The elder redneck went stiff as a board, eyes frozen on the hot mess of a woman crying all over him.

"Yeah, no." I would sooner give Merle a sponge bath than get in this truck. "Gimme my rifle."

Deadpool turned around, picking it up off the floorboard and handing it to me. I pulled the strap over my head, and confidently making my way to Daryl. He cocked his head to the side as he watched me in that utterly adorable _"I'm so confused, what the hell is going on"_ way of his. I kept my spine rigid when I stopped beside the bike with one hand out. His eyebrows furrowed and I sighed, pointing at his M16. He swallowed hard, pulling the shoulder strap over his head and handing me the weapon. I pulled it over my head, careful to make sure the M16 crisscrossed my beloved Takedown before swinging my leg over the bike. My hands shook even though I'd done this 1,000 times in the past. I told myself this time was no different, but it was. It was the first time since we...broke up? I knew he felt it too because his body was about as flexible as concrete when I wrapped my arms around his waist. I slide closer, ignoring the pounding of my pulse and our bodies pressed together intimately.

On second thought maybe I was better off locked in the truck with a hysterical woman.

Daryl cleared his throat, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Ya good?"

I pressed my lips together, but couldn't fully contain the smile he couldn't see.

"Gotta be."

I felt rather than heard his laugh as he revved the engine, taking off down the road. It was a good thing I had an impending firefight and almost certain death to keep my mind occupied otherwise the ride to Woodbury would have been unbearable.

It was night by the time we reached the outskirts of the fortified compound. Daryl and I stood by his bike, weapons drawn, waiting for the others. If Karen hadn't stopped crying by now we were going to have to figure out a way to replace her fluids before she died from dehydration. Thankfully she was only sniffling when the others jogged up and I grinned ear-to-ear watching Merle. He looked shell shocked.

"You look a little green," I joked as Rick asked Karen about a back entrance.

"Shut up," he snapped, sending me the infamous Dixon glare.

I shot him a huge smile. "Nice try, but I'm immune to that."

He mumbled something about a "pain in his ass" as he walked away.

"Alright listen up, we're gonna make our way through the side streets towards the back of the compound."

"That's her inside intel? Sneak up and attack from behind?" I scoffed. Deadpool snorted and Daryl tried to discreetly cover his smile with his fist. "Wow, sure am glad we brought her along."

"Alex." Rick sounded really close to his breaking point. "Please, just this once, for me."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I promised, making an 'X' over my heart to cement the vow.

Rick shook his head, but said nothing. In all honesty what could he say? This was a terrible plan, as always, but we didn't have much choice (as always). We were attempting an assault on a fixed position with five and a half people. Not the best odds in the history of the world, but I could think of worse. Like winning the lottery.

Rick led us passed a gazebo, the stacked tires and crowd control barriers at the edge of the wall coming into view. We were about 15 feet from the makeshift fence when the guards hidden behind the tire wall fired at us, bullets kicking up the dust at our feet and destroying the wooden gazebo behind us.

We took cover behind a burned out car, Daryl and Rick returning fire as I made my way to the trunk, scooting around the edge to get a better vantage point, tucking my rifle into my shoulder. When another round of gunshots sounded from the wall, the muzzle blast illuminating the shooters positions like a spotlight. I fired a single shot that was followed almost immediately by a shriek from behind the blockade and the gunfire ceased.

"No!" Karen cried in dismay, standing up and screaming, "Tyreese!"

"Get her down!" Deadpool ordered as the gunfire resumed.

Rick grabbed Karen, pulling her to the ground and handing her off to Merle who held her with his good arm while pressing his stubby knife to her throat.

"I know him." Her lips trembled, the water works back up and running. "Let me talk to him."

A hail of bullets rained down on the back side of the car and I scrambled back seeking more substantial cover. Daryl grabbed my arm, yanking me sideways directly into his body just as a bullet whizzed by impaling the wooden gazebo. I swallowed hard, looking at the bullet hole. It was easily the size of a basketball. What kind of weapons did they have up there? Guns off a naval battleship? I followed the bullet's trajectory backwards, right to where my head was only moments before and grimaced.

"Thanks," I said, finally looking at him, our faces inches apart.

He nodded mutely and I braced my hands against his chest intending to push myself off him. I internally groaned or maybe it was a moan when his peck muscles flexed involuntarily. Would it kill the guy to have a little cellulite?

Deadpool and Rick continued to return fire, but we weren't accomplishing anything other than alerting the entire Western hemisphere to our location.

"Rick," I yelled over the firefight. He glanced at me and I pointed at Karen, raising my eyebrows.

"She could get shot."

I shrugged. And? I almost took a ballistic missile to the eye. Out of the two of us I cared about me more than I cared about her. We were all huddled behind a rusted out Toyota Corolla with limited ammo. Did he have a better plan then Krying Karen?

"You make one wrong move," he warned.

She shook her head frantically, Merle keeping her locked down tight as she hollered, "Tyreese! It's me...Karen!"

The shooting stopped immediately. Daryl and I looked at each other than at Karen.

"Karen!" a booming voice screamed from behind the tires. "Karen, are you OK?"

In a move that shocked us all meek, traumatized Karen elbowed Merle in the gut and scampered out of his arms faster than he could recover. I aimed my rifle at her head, but she made no move to run, just stood in the open with her arms raised.

"I'm fine," she answered. "He fired on everyone. He killed 'em all."

Her voice was heavy with emotion and her eyes watered as she recounted The Governor's betrayal.

For a moment, nothing.

Then Tyreese responded. "Why are you with them?"

I wasn't one for new people, but Rick's paranoia was going to bite us on the ass with this one. I never met Tyreese, was firmly in La-La-Land courtesy of Hershel, but I heard the story. He was part of the group Rick chased out of the prison hoping to rid himself of demons they played no part in.

"They saved me!" Karen admitted and I shifted uncomfortably.

Technically I held a gun to her head and threatened to kill her, but I guess when you lived with The Governor that kinda stuff was normal.

"We're coming out!" Rick declared.

I blew out a harsh breath, my chin falling to my chest. When I looked up Deadpool was gawking at him and Daryl was shaking his head no, but I could tell by the look on his face his mind was made up. His lips thinned, eyes sliding to me for a beat before I nodded, standing up and reluctantly raising my hands.

"We're coming out!" he said again and popped up from behind the car a moment after I did.

Daryl let loose a string of curses behind me and now my grimace had nothing to do with the rifles pointed at my head. Angry hillbilly's were not to be trifled with. Merle refused to budge, still hiding behind the car with his weapons locked and loaded. I gave my fake brother-in-law a pointed look. He pursed his lips, adjusting the grip on his pistol, giving me a firm shake of his head, no.

"Get out here!" I yell-whispered, pointing at the ground by my feet. Again he shook his head no and I scowled. I pinched my lips together, suddenly incredibly sorry for all the trouble I ever caused Rick. "Now Merle!"

"Goddamn it," he cursed, tucking the pistol into his pants and standing up. He glared at me completely ignoring the people aiming artillery at us.

I felt Daryl's eyes on me and turned. "What?"

"Nothin'," he muttered. His gaze flicked to his brother, the furrow in his brow only increasing when Merle obediently stopped at my side.

We kept our hands raised like total assholes, moving slowly to the main entrance. It hadn't escaped my attention we were pinning all our hopes on Krying Karen, the woman with endless tear ducts and Tyreese, a man we'd shunned. This should go over like a lead balloon.

Shockingly enough the gate swung open revealing a huge man that could've played defensive end on any professional football team. His face was an open book and despite his size I was more concerned with the Polly Pocket sized woman next to him. Her face was also an open book and it clearly read fuck you. We inched forward, hands still held high, but when I got a good look at the man's weapon I dropped my hands in disbelief.

"Holy shit," I exclaimed, pointing at the weapon. "That's a Barrett sniper rifle."

He glanced down at the rifle with a nonchalant shrug, "Yeah, I guess."

You guess?

"That's a Barrett sniper rifle," I repeated, pointing to the rifle just in case everyone wasn't tracking.

No wonder the bullet hole in the gazebo was the size of a trashcan lid. The weapon he was holding was a long-range sniper rifle that shot .50 caliber rounds at a velocity of 2,799 feet per second. It was accurate at distances up to five-fucking-miles and this sorry piece of dick cheese was using it to shoot us from 10 feet away. And still missed! It was a sin for him to touch that rifle much less fire it. I simply couldn't stand for it.

"Alex?" Rick's voice broke through my internal rant. I drug my eyes away from Tyreese, ignoring how he flinched under my scrutiny. "You good?"

"Fine," I assured him before pointing a finger in Tyreese's face. Well, more like his abs. He was freakin' tall. "When this is over I want that."

He held the weapon up and I could see the confusion on his face. He had no idea what he was holding much less how to use it. This was why children shouldn't be allowed to handle firearms.

"What are you doing here?" Tyreese asked Rick. I would think that was fairly obvious, but the man didn't strike me as a brainiac.

"We were comin' to finish this," he admitted, "Until we saw what The Governor did."

"He...he killed them?" Tyreese sounded stunned. Rick nodded, unable to hold he man's horrified gaze.

"Yeah." Tyreese looked at Karen, his mouth hanging open. "Karen told us Andrea hopped a wall going for the prison. She never made it."

That was news to me. I guess Karen pulled herself together in the truck before we reached Woodbury. My stomach bottomed out when I thought of Andrea. We were far from BFF's, but Hershel was right when he said she was one of us. She'd run from The Governor, but never made it to us.

"She might be here," Rick continued.

"But...where would he hold someone prisoner?" Tyreese asked. I could think of a few places.

"This way," Merle said, stepping forward and pointed at a building directly in front of us. A chill raced down my spine when I recognized the street.

"That's where he held Glenn and Maggie," Rick confirmed, "What about Alex?"

"No." My voice was emotionless, clinical. "He split us up. I was further down the street," I pointed in front of me. "The building on the right is boarded up, but there's a back door that's padlocked." I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but didn't dare make eye contact. "Let's just hope she's in there because if she isn't..."

Deadpool's breathing was heavy beside me and I was reminded that while I may not be friends with Andrea she most certainly was. My heart went out to her. I didn't hold much hope we would find her in good condition. The Governor slaughtered his people on the side of the road for voicing dissenting opinions. If he caught her attempting to abandon ship he would punish her, severely.

Rick lead the group into the building, slowly advancing down the hall and around a corner, but then stopped immediately. A door was only a few feet in front of us, but that wasn't the issue. It was the blood seeping out from underneath it. Deadpool lowered her shotgun, her face ashen and I reached out, squeezing her hand briefly. She squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before slowly exhaling. At the door Rick stared down at the blood in horror. Deadpool drew her sword, her face stoic and composure hanging on by a threat. I could see her preparing herself for the possibility of putting her friend down.

"Will you open it?" she asked Rick in a tone I'd never heard before.

Daryl and I positioned ourselves on either side of the door, weapons raised as Rick counted down softly. He flung the door open on one, but the only thing that greeted us was a dead walker. It was the butler, Milton, lying at the base of a bolted down chair with the side of his head bashed in.

A dry cough sounded drew beside the door drew our attention and it was then I noticed a pair of bare feet. Stepping over the blood I entered the room, quickly clearing it before turning my attention to the prone figure, my hope plummeting.

"Andrea," Deadpool whispered, rushing to her side and I stepped back to give them space. She was slumped against the wall, deathly pale, a chunk of her shoulder ripped out that her jacket did a poor job of concealing.

"I tried to stop him," she slurred as Deadpool sat her up.

"You're burning up."

She didn't have long. Her breathing was labored, the effort she was exerting on a simple involuntary reflex enormous. She pulled her jacket back slightly to reveal the fatal wound on her shoulder. Deadpool slumped to the ground, tears on her cheeks. Rick looked away, unable to bear the sight of another friend destine to die. I glanced at Daryl, his face a stone mask that gave nothing away. He looked down at Andrea almost like he was looking through her, but I saw the tension in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. I could see the hurt he tried desperately to hide.

"Judith, Carl?" she asked, her eyes out of focus. "The rest of them."

"Us," Rick corrected. "The rest...of...us."

Deadpool cried holding her dying friend, brushing hair out of her face gently.

"They're alive?"

Rick glanced at us from his spot crouched in front of Andrea, looking for help, but there was nothing anyone could do. Nothing at all that would make this less gruesome.

"Yeah, they're alive."

She smiled then. Despite the fact she was dying she was happy we were OK. There were a lot of things I never liked about Andrea and we butted heads more often than not, but here, at the end of all things, she got it right. She was finally the woman she always wanted to be.

"It's good you found them," she told her friend. Deadpool sniffled, crying hard. "No one can make it alone now."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes shifting to Daryl who was already staring at me. He moved closer, the side of his arm brushing mine and I blinked rapidly trying to hold back the tears.

"They never could," Daryl responded to Andrea, but his eyes never left my face.

"I just didn't want anyone to die." She adjusted herself against the wall, face morphing from pain to determined. "I can do it myself."

"No," Deadpool insisted.

"No, I have to." This I understood. I would want the same thing. I knew what it was like to have to kill a loved one and I would never want to saddle someone with that responsibility if I could avoid it. "While I still can." Deadpool's lips quivered, but she agreed. "Please," she asked Rick, smiling sadly, "I know how the safety works."

Reluctantly Rick placed his Python in her weak, blood stained hands, holding them for a moment.

"I'm not going anywhere," Deadpool declared, eyes wet with tears, but conviction unwavering.

These two survived together for months this winter and she wasn't leaving her friend to face death alone. Andrea looked around the room, eyes sweeping over everyone. When she looked at me and smiled I felt my stomach plummet. She gave me a small nod just as my first tear fell.

"Take care of each other." Her eyes were distant now, her time drawing near. "I tried. "

"Yeah," Rick murmured. "You did. You did."

His voice broke as he dropped his head before standing up. Daryl's gaze lingered on the dying woman for a second before he walked out of the room without a word. I followed behind him, but stopped in the threshold, looking down at Andrea.

"I'm sorry." She reached out and bent down, grasping her hand. My eyes shifted to Deadpool, my lips quivering. "I'm sorry."

I let go of her hand, Rick closing the door behind me. I went to the end of the wall, stopping next to Merle who kept his head bowed and lips sealed, but he shifted slightly closer. Rick stayed by the door, Daryl sitting on a crate nearby as we waited for the inevitable. When I heard the gunshot I exhaled harshly, turning on my heel and leaving. I couldn't breathe in the hallway. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, the crushing grief pouring off everyone overwhelming all my senses. It never got any easier, losing people. I'd been burying loved ones since before I could legally drive and more than 20 years later the suffering was just as prominent now as it was then. Tyreese and Merle walked out of the building, but I kept my head down, too emotional at the moment.

"Daryl and Rick are gonna get the body," Merle informed me.

"You're taking her back?" Tyreese didn't sound opposed to the idea just surprised.

I lifted my head. "We don't leave our people behind."

The gigantic man nodded at me, his eyes softening.

"Why don't we scout out the rest of the town? Make sure The Governor ain't hangin' 'round."

I sniffled, nodding and pushing off the wall to follow him. The Governor wasn't here, that much was abundantly clear. If he was I would have killed him by now. He knew now that the community saw him for the psychotic murderer he was coming back was a death sentence. Merle knew it too. He was offering me an out, something to do other than stand around and mourn another loss, and I was eternally grateful.

We walked the empty streets of Woodbury, the torches that normally illuminated the compound only half lit. At first I thought we might be standing in a ghost town, but then slowly a door opened followed by another and another. People spilled out of buildings, some old, some young, some with children and some alone. They looked terrified, unsure if we were friend or foe. Merle and I left the convincing to Tyreese. Merle had a long history in this town and none of it was particularly good. As for me, the last time I saw these people they were cheering on the walkers trying to kill us.

"Lotta mouths to feed," Merle commented, surveying the ever growing number of people in the streets.

"We need a way to get them all back."

He pursed his lips, rubbing his chin with his good hand.

"Think Officer Friendly's gonna let 'em come?" I raised my eyebrows at him and he sighed. "Yeah. There's a bus over yonder. It's part of the wall. Might be able to get it runnin'."

I nodded at him and he left as Rick and Daryl walked up.

"How many?" he asked, eyes scanning the packed street.

"Enough." I cracked my neck trying to ward off the exhaustion. "Merle went to see about a bus."

Daryl nodded, biting his thumbnail. "Gonna give him a hand." He jogged off and Rick turned to me, eyes assessing.

"You good?"

"Gotta be."

"Yeah." He put his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath. "You talk to them?"

"No," I laughed without any real humor, "That wouldn't be a good idea."

"Probably not," he agreed. "I'll do it." Have fun with that.

"Andrea?"

His head fell, voice low. "Outside the building. We wrapped her body up. Michonne...Michonne didn't want to leave her alone."

I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, his hand coming up and touching mine briefly. I slowly made my way back to Deadpool, my body screaming at me to rest. When I rounded the corner and saw her sitting with her back against the wall next to Andrea's body it felt like I took a punch in my gut. Her eyes were locked on the threadbare blankets covering her friend, tears still falling down her dirt streaked face, sword discarded at her side.

With slow deliberate steps I made my over to her, sliding down the wall until I was sitting beside her. I crossed my legs under each other, silently reaching for her hand and holding it. A sob bubbled from her lips, but she made no other sound, her grip on my hand tightening. We didn't speak, didn't look at each other. We just sat there, holding vigil over Andrea and mourning. Her a friend and me a woman I came to respect.

I don't know how much time had passed when Rick and Daryl finally came back. It could have been minutes or it could have been days. The two of us stayed motionless against the wall as they slowly made their way over to the body, positioning themselves at her head and feet. Rick crouched down, looking at Deadpool.

"We're gonna move her now."

Deadpool didn't respond. She didn't blink, didn't move, hardly breathed, so I nodded my consent and the two men lifted the body with reverence, carrying her away. I got to my feet, never letting go of Deadpool's hand. I pulled her up and guided her down the street, one arm around her shoulder, the sun just starting crest in the distance. She moved on autopilot and I kept my hand firm in hers as we made our way to the waiting truck. Opening the passenger door I ushered her inside, making sure to tuck her beloved samurai sword in next to her. The sound of the door closing broke her trance, her eyes focusing on me with a panicked look.

"Andrea." Her voice was scratchy from crying.

"We have her," I reassured her. Her head swiveled back-and-forth searching for her friend, her breathing erratic. "Hey, hey, I'll go check on her. OK?" She swallowed, giving me consent before letting her head fall against the headrest, closing her eyes.

At the back of the truck Daryl and Rick were securing Andrea's body, a foot peeking out from beneath the blanket. I adjusted it until she was properly covered, my hands shaking.

"Everyone's on the bus," Tyreese said, shifting his weight in obvious discomfort.

"Alright," Rick mumbled without turning around.

We loaded into the vehicles. Merle driving the bus with Tyreese and the refugees. Rick and Deadpool in the truck with Daryl and I in the lead on the bike. The drive back to the prison felt more like a funeral procession than a rescue. I was thankful when the massive stone of the prison walls finally came into view. We drove through the fences, the confused faces of Maggie and Glenn staring back at us. I saw Carl standing nearby, disapproval written all over his young face and I shook my head. The compassionate boy I knew a distant memory. Beth and Hershel made their way out, varying degrees of surprise on their faces. I couldn't blame them. We left on a mission to kill, but somehow returned from a mission of mercy.

Daryl stopped the bike, pushing out the kickstand. I climbed off, ignoring the soreness in my muscles. I went directly to Andrea, untying the ropes securing her body. We had to bury her. She deserved that. My hands fumbled with the rope, dropping it several times, my frustration mounting. I yanked on the knots, exhaustion blurring my vision before a hand covered mine. My lips trembled as I slowly met Daryl's worried gaze. He smiled sadly at me, removing my hand from the rope and deftly untying the knots. Merle appeared on the other side, finishing the job. The brothers worked together to lift her body. Deadpool stepped out of the car, following behind them, but I stopped next to Rick who was looking at something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at the walkway, seeing nothing.

"Think I did the right thing?" he asked. He was obviously talking to me, but it felt like the question was for someone else. Someone whose loss haunted him.

Lori.

"Yeah Rick," I whispered, pulling him in for a hug. "I do."

* * *

 **Bye-bye Andrea. I didn't particularly like her character, but she went out on a high note so to speak. What did you guys think of the showdown at the prison and what followed?**

 **FYI, the next 2 chapters will wrap up the "Daryl and Alex not being together" arc once and for all. I hope that makes you super excited...I sure am. I'm slightly nervous to hear how you guys feel about _how_ it all ends.**

 **Until next week...**


	34. Drowning On Dry Land

**Drowning On Dry Land**

"I don't like new people," I grumbled, stabbing a walker through the fence.

"You haven't even given them a chance," Carol accused, stabbing her own walker, albeit more daintily.

I threw my hands in the air in frustration. "I have to!"

"You either yell at them or ignore them. That's not giving them a chance." I whirled around, stabbing two walkers simultaneously with more force than the job required, severing their heads and watching absently as they rolled away like morbid bowling balls. "Things like that," Carol pointed at the two rolling heads, "Don't help people warm up to you."

I blew a strand of hair out of my face, glaring at her. "I'm going out. This way takes too long."

"Rick doesn't want anyone outside the fence."

"Farmer Rick can suck an egg," I yelled over my shoulder, heading to the main gate.

"Neither does the council."

"The council can suck my…"

"You better get a handle on your mood swings."

I flipped her off over my head, not stopping or falling for the bait. It was too early for this shit. Plus, I had a perfect handle on my mood swings. Just because my mood swings weren't like everyone else's didn't mean they should be discriminated against. Mine were unique and that should be celebrated. They didn't just swing. They bounced, recoiled, fluctuated, pivoted and even occasionally did a damn pirouette. That was impressive. Although, it was easier to appreciate my particular form of self-expression if you were quick enough to dodge a knife.

Some kid whose name I hadn't bothered to learn was manning the front gate. He was young and had glasses so thick he looked like a human Hubble telescope. I scowled as I searched his too young face, a face not even old enough to shave yet. He was so nervous he was visibly shaking. Everyone from Woodbury was too young, too old or too helpless. His eyes bulged from behind his magnifying glasses making them look gigantic on his boyish face. He watched me warily, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, using his M16 like a shield.

"Open the gate Peter," I demanded, pissed he was holding me up, pissed he was so young, pissed he could see Pluto.

"My…my…name's not Peter."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Peter, Pablo, Preston, I don't give a shit." He backed up until he was flush against the fence. "Open the gate."

"It's Patrick actually." I shoved him out of the way, unlocking the gate. "Uh, ma'am, I mean Alex, I mean Mrs. Dixon," he stuttered.

I froze, chain hanging in my hands as I contemplated choking him with it. His face paled and his body sagged, eying me like a bomb about to explode which wasn't too far off.

"What did you say?"

"W-w-h-hat-t?"

He was shaking so hard now he almost dropped his rifle and I rolled my eyes.

"Philip...did you just call me Mrs. Dixon?" He stuttered something under his breath that sounded like "Patrick" as I invaded his personal space, using his terror to my advantage. He shook his head up-and-down like a bobble head. Someone was due for a maiming and I had a pretty good idea who, but I was a stickler for details. "Who told you to say that?"

"Well…it was…M-m-merl-l-e." I fucking knew it. "H-h-he s-s-aid y-y-you and D-D-Daryl, I mean Mr. Dixon, were m-m-mar-r-ried."

That was ten minutes of my life I was never getting back.

I dropped the chain, swinging the gate open and stalking out without further comment. It wasn't Percy's fault my fake brother-in-law was a dick. I drew two knives from my sheath as my walk morphed into a jog. I catapulted myself into a small herd of walkers lining our fence. I was too angry for finesse and too conflicted for subtle.

My vision went black around the edges as I stabbed and slashed at the walkers with brute force spurred on by blind anger. I was a whirlwind of death, taking them down two and three at a time, my rage intensifying with every body that fell at my feet. Blood spattered my face and body, but I hardly noticed. My sole focus was brutality. For the first time…ever…the cause wasn't the walkers I was terminating with extreme prejudice. No, my anger, frustration, and outright bitchiness had nothing to do with undead. It wasn't going to stop me from taking it out on them because it was better if I killed dead people than living people. Or so Hershel kept telling me. The shitty part was I knew the second I was done putting down the small herd the restless, incomplete feeling plaguing me day and night would return with a vengeance and I would be right back where I started. Miserable.

By the time I was done there were 30 dead walkers and a group of petrified spectators at the fence. I ignored the murmurs in the crowd, holding my head high despite the walker goo coating my body and clothes. The nervous guard, Parker?, now looked ready to pee his pants. He fumbled with the lock and chain on the gate. I was positive my foot tapping the ground with impatience wasn't helping. When he finally managed to unlocked it I pushed it open, brushing by the scared teen and making sure to get a healthy dose of guts on his otherwise clean clothes.

I ignored the crowd, avoiding eye contact with anyone in particular. Unfortunately I couldn't help but hear words like _mercenary, crazy,_ and _killer_ being muttered. I knew my little outburst would garner this kind of reaction and that was half the reason I did it. When people were scared of you they tended to leave you alone.

Plopping down on the bleachers I held my head in my hands, sickened by the walker blood dripping from my forearms. I tuned out the sounds of the crowd dispersing, keeping my head bowed, watching the feet as they passed in my peripheral until none remained. Fishing a tattered cloth from my back pocket I did my best to wipe away the evidence of my temper tantrum.

"Feel better?" Carol sat down beside me, careful to maintain her distance.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

That wasn't entirely true. I knew exactly what was wrong. I just didn't know what to do about it. The really crap part was I wasn't sure there was anything I _could do about it_.

I'd heard all the conspiracy theories about my ever declining mental and behavioral state. Rick thought it was spurred on by the Woodbury refugees. Hershel blamed PTSD. Glenn said sleep deprivation was the culprit. Carol was positive it was the worst case of PMS known to man.

I didn't correct any of their observations because I didn't want to acknowledge much less talk about what was really eating away at me. Plus, they weren't necessarily wrong. I didn't like new people. My PTSD had PTSD after the last few weeks and sleep was not something I was able to achieve as of late. Taken as a whole it made me abnormally prickly or as Carol put it, a complete bitch. I was self-aware enough to admit even if I wasn't struggling to make it through the day I wouldn't be winning Mrs. Congeniality any time soon. Making friends wasn't exactly my strong suite and given my current state it was downright impossible.

"I think you do," Carol alleged, crossing her feet at the ankle. I propped my head up in my hands, looking at her in questions. "When's the last time you talked to Pookie?" I snapped my mouth shut, hiding my face in my hands. "That's what I thought."

Daryl and I had barely spoken in almost two weeks. Well, 13 days, 10 hours and 36 minutes, but who was counting. When we got back from Woodbury, a bus load of refugees in tow, everything was so chaotic we hardly had time to breathe much less chat. Housing this many people, especially people we didn't entirely trust, was burdensome. There were so many things that had to be done, finding a place for them to sleep which meant clearing out another cellblock and finding a way to feed this many mouths among them. All while making sure they weren't going to murder us all in our sleep. Then we had a 24/7 guard rotation to keep and the constant problem of walkers piling up on the fence.

Between all that there was no time to sit around in couples counseling.

The first few days quickly blurred into a week before it suddenly occurred to me one morning at breakfast that I hadn't seen him. Our guard rotations were always opposite each other and he had moved the last of his belongings into the cell he shared with his brother so our path's rarely crossed in the cellblock. When he wasn't hunting for food he was hunting The Governor with Deadpool, the pair's desire to find the man borderline obsessed. As the days drug on I realized his avoidance was intentional not accidental.

It appeared when we weren't facing near-death scenarios our need to be near each other was a big, fat, zero. Now that the immediate threat to our safety was eliminated, for the time being, there was little reason for us to interact beyond absolute necessity so he was respecting my wish and keeping his distance. It was what I wanted. What I explicitly asked him to do. So why did I feel like total shit?

"Is there a point to this?" She pursed her lips.

Carol was a master of facial expressions, often using them in lieu of words. This one said _cut the crap_.

"I know I told you to make him work for it, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

I groaned, dropping my hands and leaning back against the bleachers. "I'm not making him work for anything. There's nothing to work for. _There is no us_."

"You don't really believe that do you?" No, I just liked feeling like total crap. It helped pass the time. "I don't know which one of you I should strangle first."

"Since we're on the subject of strangling someone…"

I gave her a knowing look, but she narrowed her eyes, not deterred by my tactics. This was why I kept the Woodbury group at arm's length. Scary looks worked better when people were _actually_ scared.

"Don't do that." Do what? "That."

"Jesus Christ, what are you, a mind reader?"

"No, you're just transparent." Ouch. "Do you even know why you're punishing him?"

Was she serious? My temper flared instinctively.

"Yes, Carol, I do know. In case you've forgotten He – Left – Me." I enunciated each word, practically screaming at her by the time I was done. She didn't even flinch.

"Yes, he did," she conceded. Her words said she agreed with me. Her tone did not. It pissed me off. "But he came back."

"So what?" I scoffed.

"It's gotta count for something." Her face was so infuriatingly calm I wanted to hit something. I crossed my arms over my chest so it wasn't her. "Why are you really mad?"

When I didn't answer right away she sighed and I snapped.

"What do you want from me?!"

"I want you to forgive him."

"What, like you forgave your husband when he beat you?" Her face paled instantly, the confident woman I knew replaced with the scared wife I'd never met. My shoulders sagged as I squeezed my eyes shut, my self-loathing reaching epic proportions. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

She didn't respond and the silence between us was excruciating. She took a moment to compose herself, giving me a fake smile as she smoothed out non-existent wrinkles on her pants. I'd done it again, irrevocably damaged another relationship. I blamed my ostracization on everyone else, but the fact of the matter was I did it to myself. The shame burning in my gut was too powerful to quell. It was a soul eating emotion I deserved for hurting the woman sitting next to me, doing nothing but trying to help.

"It's OK Alex," she said softly, reaching over and taking my hand.

Tears filled my eyes. "It's not. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry Carol, truly."

She gave me a soft smile, "I know and I forgive you." I didn't deserve her forgiveness, but I was selfish enough to accept it. "See how easy that was?" I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. "Talk to me Alex."

Carol had never asked me for anything until this moment and all she wanted was the truth. I couldn't deny her that. Not after everything we'd been through. I took a deep breath, looking out past the fence into the woods. I tried to gather the courage to put a voice to what was following me around like own personal rain cloud since Daryl left me sobbing and broken on the side of the road.

"He never loved me," I whispered. I felt her shift closer, but kept my gaze focused straight ahead. "He broke all his promises. I thought we…" I couldn't keep the quiver from my voice, but I blinked away the tears. I'd cried enough to last a lifetime. "I thought we would be together forever," I chuckled, even though it wasn't funny, "However long that might be, but I was wrong. I wasn't enough and it's _killing me._ "

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, disregarding the walker blood (that was true friendship) as she pulled me in for a hug. I sank into her, too heartbroken to feel ashamed. I felt her stroking my hair and a pang of nostalgia hit me. My grandmother used to do the same thing when I was a child.

"He loves you Alex," she promised, her ministrations never stopping. "I think he loved you from the start. He didn't realize it of course because he didn't know the feeling. He never knew love until you."

I wanted so badly to believe her, but I refused to be my mother. She had an excuse for everything. She forgave a man all his transgressions at the expense of her children and even her life. I swore a long time ago I would never make the same mistakes.

"Carol…"

She cut me off, "The man who left you wasn't the man you fell in love with." I sat up, my eyebrows furrowed as I stared at her in confusion. She laughed, her eyes getting distant. I knew she was recalling a time before I joined the group. "You didn't know Daryl back in Atlanta. Merle has a way of making him feel indebted to him even though he only takes from him. Back then when they were together he was…different. A boy playing at being a man. The confident, fearless, resourceful leader he is now is a far cry from the timid follower I met back at the quarry."

I listened with rapt attention. If I hadn't heard varying versions of the same story from the others I wouldn't believe it. That sounded _nothing_ like the man I knew. Even her description of Merle was hard to imagine. Sure, he was a jackass, but he was a changed jackass. He still made lewd comments, racists jokes and barely anyone trusted him, but he was sober and pulling his weight around the prison. I still found it hard to comprehend, but I trusted him. The two of us had formed a strange friendship since I saved his life. I knew from watching him around the prison he was making monumental efforts to repair the damaged relationship with his brother.

Her version of Daryl was even harder to reconcile. He was on the council now, a true leader, a source of strength for the ever growing community at the prison. People looked to him for guidance, they respected his opinion, and valued his survival skills. He seemed like such a natural leader, born to the role, I couldn't imagine him hiding in another man's shadow. Trying to visualize the two people Carol described was like imagining Tonya Harding without Nancy Kerrigan. It just didn't fit.

"The person who left you wasn't _your_ _Daryl_. It was the scared boy who desperately wanted his brother's love and acceptance." She turned to me, her gaze thoughtful. "The person who came back is the man you know. The man you love. And he came back _because_ he loves you."

I shook my head, blowing out a puff of air, her words rolling around in my head. I couldn't deny her explanation made sense. The real question still remained, was it enough?

"He got lost for a moment. We all do. Don't give him a life sentence for something he had no control over." She stood up, adjusting her shirt self-consciously out of habit. "Think about it."

"And if it's too late?"

She laughed and I looked at her with a frown. This wasn't funny. When she saw my face she only smiled wider, squeezing my shoulder.

"Daryl Dixon will love you for the rest of his life Alexandrina Winters."

I felt myself smiling despite myself and she threw me a wink, turning and walking away. Before she could leave I called her name and she turned.

"Thanks."

She nodded at me, whistling as she headed towards Rick and his ever expanding farm construction project. I stayed on the bench, overwhelmed by everything I learned and at a loss for what to do with the information. I understood being lost, had been for the better part of my life, but this felt different. The thought of being with a man who could change his mind at any given minute was terrifying. I forgave him once. I didn't know if I could do it again. My mother's beaten and battered face flashed before my eyes and I cringed.

 _'You're not your mother,'_ a voice in my head reminded me. _'And Daryl isn't your father.'_

I was torn, being pulled in opposite directions. On one hand I could do nothing. Let the status quo remain and keep myself protected. The hurt would fade, eventually, and even if it didn't I was bound to die, probably sooner rather than later.

Or I could take a leap of faith. Stop wondering what could have been and find out what might be. That had the potential to cause twice the heartache in half the time, but at least I wouldn't have to live with regret. I would know. One way or the other.

Carol knew Daryl better than anyone, maybe even me, and she was confident in his love for me. My traitorous heart had certainly never stopped loving him despite my best efforts, but loving each other was never our problem. Communicating was our downfall from the start.

"Damn lil' sister, yur thinkin' so hard there's steam comin' outta yur ears."

"You are the human equivalent of a headache," I told Merle, massaging my temples.

He laughed, sitting down with a dramatic sigh. "Heard ya scared the town folk."

"Those titty babies need to toughen up." So I killed 30 walkers single-handedly? If they were staying they were going to have to get used to it. My issues had issues. "Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"

Or doing anything other than sitting here.

"Darlina's got that covered." It took all my strength not to react. I let out a slow breath, relief flooding my system that he wasn't out looking for the psychopath today. "'Sides, sounds like ya need 'ol Merle to help ya figure out the language of lllooovvveee."

He drew out the last word, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and I stuck my finger in my throat, gagging.

"Gross."

"Oh come on Firecracker, I ain't the one walking 'round like I'm stuck in a Nicholas Spark's novel." My eyebrows shot up into my hairline in genuine shock. He grinned, "Surprised I know who Nicholas Spark's is?"

"I'm surprised you can read."

"Got lots of hidden talents."

He waggled his tongue around like a snake and I frowned.

"I feel like I should track down all the women you've slept with and apologize," I said with a shake of my head, pointing at him. "What is that supposed to do?"

"Ain't never had no complaints," he pouted and now it was my turn to smile. "In fact, I only ever heard loud, screamin' approval thank ya very much."

"I'm sure you were the best fake orgasm they ever had."

He scoffed, "Ya don't think I know my way 'round a woman?"

This convo sure had veered off the tracks.

"I don't think you could navigate a woman's South Pole with a flashlight and a map."

He stared at me with a blank face for a full five seconds before breaking into a booming laugh.

"That's why I like ya Firecracker. Ya got spunk."

"Thanks?" I'd been accused of much worse.

"Back to ya and Darlina…"

"You know that moment when you regret saving someone's life?" I asked, deep in thought as I totally ignored his effort to drive the conversation train. "I'm having that now."

"I know the feelin'," he replied immediately, "Get it every time I look at ya."

"Please," I snorted, "You _so_ did not save my life."

He kind of had, but I saved his first so I got bonus points. Plus, if I had a few more grenades I wouldn't have needed his help at all.

"Ya ever read Nicholas Sparks?"

I scrunched up my face, giving him my best "what the fuck" look.

"Do I look like I've read a Nicholas Sparks book?"

Truthfully, I had, all of them, twice and I'd seen the movies. There was only so much to keep your mind occupied during deployments and you would be surprised what found its way onto a battlefield.

"I love The Notebook," he admitted and I choked on nothing but air. He pounded on my back with his flesh hand until I could properly convert oxygen to carbon dioxide. "Don't look so shocked. That's a helluva love story."

I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, but I was, in fact, awake and talking to Merle about The Notebook. This was stranger than the dead walking.

"Were you high?"

He smirked at me. "Course." I rolled my eyes. "Don't make it any less touchin'."

Did he just say touching and it didn't involve someone's breasts?

"This is officially the weirdest conversation I've ever had."

"Darlina likes it to." I fell off the bleachers or I would have if Merle hadn't grabbed my arm to stop me from falling over.

"No. Way."

"Yep," he laughed, "Gets all misty eyed at the end, the pussy." I bent over, laughing so hard I actually cried. It took me a solid three minutes to stop. "Ya ever tell anyone this…"

I sobered up instantly, agreeing with him completely. If anyone ever, and I do mean _ever_ , heard about this we would never hear the end of it. We should probably draw up some kind of nondisclosure agreement just to be on the safe side. Wasn't one of those Woodbury losers a lawyer once upon a time?

"You too." He gave me a sly smile, nodding slightly and I grinned at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

Not that it wasn't the highlight of my entire life, but still.

"Ya remember that part where she's talkin' nonsense 'bout bein' a bird or some shit?" I nodded, but wasn't following. "That's the two of ya."

"Huh?"

"If yur a bird, he's a bird." I froze, swallowing down the lump in my throat, my hands shaking. "He loves ya Firecracker, always has, always will. Ain't nothin' ever gonna change that."

He leaned to the side, digging something out of his back pocket, holding it out to me.

"What is it?" I asked, curious but weary.

"A ring."

I stared at him then back down at the ring. "I can see that. Why are you giving it to me?"

"Take a look."

I still wasn't following, but I took the ring from him, holding the thin band between my fingers. The seemingly simple ring was anything simple upon closer inspection. The ring itself was a delicate, white gold wedding band with beveled edges. At first glance it was a simple, classic, nondescript wedding band that was fashionable ages ago. However, that was the only traditional aspect of the ring.

It had what appeared to be a thin strand of copper wire meticulously wrapped around the band making it look like dozens of tiny copper rings encircled it. The craftsmanship was impeccable. Whoever made it took their time, ensuring no detail was left unchecked. I turned the ring over in my hand mesmerized, the copper was one continuous wire, but was crafted with such precision it looked like each ring was an individual circle around the band. It must have taken whoever did this weeks, if not months, of painstaking work to complete. It wasn't flashy or traditional. It had no diamonds or precious stones. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, utterly unique. It was a ring crafted by someone with tender affection. As if they found a way to pour their heart and soul into an object with nothing more than their bare hands. It was undeniably beautiful. And I still had absolutely no idea why I was holding it.

"Uh, I think you're great Merle, but you're not really my type," I muttered uncomfortably.

He rolled his eyes. "Funny," he said dryly, "It ain't mine." Thank god for small mercies. "Found it in the bottom of Darlina's pack," he continued, smirking at my confusion, "The band was my grandma's. That boy's been carrying it around since she died like a talisman. She was a good woman my grandma, died before her time."

His voice broke and I looked away to give him time to compose himself.

"It's beautiful," I admitted. He nodded, staring at the ring in my hand with a wistful expression. I held it out for him to take, but he reached forward with his good hand, curling my fingers into a ball around it. "I don't understand."

"You ain't got the sense God gave a goose."

"I don't understand."

I'd been slacking on my redneck education ever since Daryl and I parted ways.

Merle shook his head. "Ya keep whining to any soul that'll listen that he never loved ya. 'Bout tired of hearin' ya bitch 'bout somethin' that ain't true." I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could get a word in edge wise he kept going. "I ain't done right by my brother, not by a long shot, but I ain't gonna let ya walk around sayin' he don't love ya. I've known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, and if I know one thing for sure it's that he loves ya." He gave me a sidelong glance that clearly said he didn't know why. "Damn fool."

"Hey!" I protested.

"Get over yurself Firecracker," he replied, his voice stern. "He was tryin' to do right by ya when he left with me. Hell, yur face alone looked like 10 miles of bad road. " My mouth dropped open in outrage. "Oh can it. Ya know as well as I do ya wouldn't have made it half a mile before ya passed out or dropped dead."

I ground my teeth together in agitation. Since when did Merle make sense? I couldn't remember hearing him talking about anything other than sex, drugs or boobs and now here he was spouting out wisdom like some kind of redneck monk.

"That's not the point," I huffed.

The problem was I wasn't sure what the point was anymore.

"Do ya even know what ya want?" When an answer failed me he gave me a dry laugh. "That's what I thought. Ya know my brother, he ain't one for words. That," he pointed at the ring burning a hole in my palm. "Is his way of tellin' ya how he feels. Shit, he's practically screamin' it from the rooftops. Only question is whether yur too stupid to hear it?"

I shot to my feet, anger boiling in my veins. "So he carries around his grandmother's wedding band and I'm supposed to pretend everything's hunky-dory?"

"Sweet lord you could piss off a rope," he groaned, looking at me in exasperation. "Because I've got better things to do than sit here and listen to ya talk nonsense all day I'm gonna cut to the chase."

"I swear to…"

He interrupted me, "Who do ya think made that ring?"

"What?" The abrupt change in topics made me stumble. Merle crossed his arms over his chest, waiting patiently. "Your grandfather. What the fuck difference…"

"Nope."

" _Nope_ ," I mocked. He stared at me impassively. "What do you mean nope?"

"I mean the weddin' band underneath was what he gave her."

I opened my hand, peering down at the ring.

"Well then who…" I trailed off, realization slamming into me like a freight train. "He didn't add the copper wire?"

It wasn't a question, but he answered regardless. "Nope."

My heart hammered in my chest so hard I was shocked it didn't crush bone.

"But that would mean…." Daryl did it.

"Yep."

My eyes traveled to Merle. "But that would have taken…." Weeks, months.

"Yep." Merle stood up and stretched, smiling at me like he hadn't just dropped the bombshell to end all bombshells. "I can see my work here is done. See ya later lil' sister."

I stood rooted in place, gaping at the ring, for another three minutes before I hauled ass into the cellblock. There was little to no chance Daryl fashioned the ring prior to the end of the world. He wasn't the type of man to make wedding bands on the off chance he bumped into _"the one"_. Hell, he wasn't the type of man who would get married or so I incorrectly assumed. I would bet my life he made this after the turn and it'd taken time, effort and supplies. There was only one person who would be able to help him with the last part.

"Glenn!" I shouted, skidding to a stop outside their cell. The couple started, jumping from the bunk and grabbing the closest weapons.

"What the hell Alex?" Glenn exclaimed, hand over his heart as he lowered his knife.

I ignored him, holding up the ring. "Did Daryl ask you to help him with this?"

"Uh," Glenn stammered, eyes darting everywhere but me.

"Glenn!"

"Yeah," he admitted, looking guilty. How Glenn held out for so long at Woodbury was astonishing.

"When?" When he frowned I continued, "When did he ask you?"

He looked at Maggie, holding his hands up in uncertainty.

"I don't remember really…" I let out a breath, running my hand through my hair in distress. "I think it was after Beth and Maggie."

My eyes slide back to him. "After Beth and Maggie?"

"Yeah. On the highway…when they were…and you had to…"

His hand went up in the air, some pathetic sound effects accompanying it before he brought it down in a lazy half circle. Maggie shivered as she recalled being stranded and surrounded by a herd of walkers on a Fiat, their only hope me and my half-cocked plan. That made no sense. We kissed for the first time ever _that_ _night_ , but then he freaked out and ignored me for a week. He ignored me while he had Glenn hunting down supplies for a ring?

"Are you sure?"

Glenn nodded, "Positive. The next morning before we left he pulled me aside and asked me to keep a lookout for wire, copper if I could find it." He pointed down at the ring. "I remember now because it was such a strange request, and it took me a while to find some. He never said what it was for."

It was for a wedding ring. A wedding ring he made for me if Merle was to be believed. A wedding ring he made months and months ago then carried around for even longer. A wedding ring he knew he wanted to give me long before I even realized I loved him.

I swallowed hard, trying to reconcile what I thought I knew with what I just learned. I squeezed the ring in my hand, my brain scrambling to catch up with my heart. This whole time I discarded his words due to his actions, but I never knew what he was carrying around in the bottom of his pack. I was never sure how he felt until right now.

He loved me.

He was the one who poured everything he couldn't express into the ring with his own two hands. It sounded exactly like something Daryl would do. Carol and Merle's words washed over me like a tidal wave. I was by no means good at relationships, but I couldn't deny the truth in their words. I wasn't innocent in this. The way our relationship ended was just as much my fault as his. I pushed him away when he came back, refused to listen to any explanation that didn't fit my narrative and broken heart.

"Are you alright?" Maggie asked, taking a step closer. I nodded, still stunned. "You look a little…"

"If I'm a bird, he's a bird," I mumbled, feeling lightheaded.

"I think you should get your dad," Glenn told her.

I grabbed his shoulders shaking him roughly, grinning like a fool.

"If I'm a bird, he's a bird!"

"I'm going to get Daddy."

"Where is he?" Glenn and Maggie glanced at each other, trying to figure out if I was having a stroke or a mental breakdown. Maybe a little of both. "Where's Daryl?"

"Hunting," Glenn answered. "Left this morning. He said not to expect him back for a few days."

I bolted from the cell, weaving in-and-out of bodies, ignoring the shouts to slow down as I raced up the stairs to the perch. Glenn and Maggie called after me, but I ignored them as I grabbed my pack, stuffing clothes and some extra ammunition inside hastily. In seconds I flying down the stairs, my feet barely touching a single step as I headed towards the makeshift kitchen in the man cave. Carol was there, a small grin on her face as I barreled into the room with the force of an F5 tornado. I opened my mouth, but before I could utter a word she pointed at the table in the middle of the room. A line of cans and bottled water were lined up, waiting. I shot her a look of thanks, cramming the provisions into my pack like a crazy person.

"Alex," Rick said from behind me. I hadn't heard him approach and barely spared him a glance as I continued to pack. "Everything alright? Merle found me and said you'd be leaving soon."

"Fine," I answered absently, closing my pack.

"Mind telling me what's going on?"

"If I'm a bird, he's a bird."

I slung my pack on my shoulders ignoring his confusion at my explanation.

"Birds? What do birds…"

I cut him off, "Which way did Daryl go?"

Rick pursed his lips, looking around the room at Carol, Glenn and Maggie for assistance. They coudln't help him. He was going to tell me even if I had to beat it out of him.

"Uh…"

"East," Carol answered, completely ignoring Rick's scowl of disapproval.

I nodded at her, taking two steps and throwing my arms around her neck.

"If I'm a bird, he's a bird," I whispered.

"I know." She patted my back. "Go get him."

I made my way to the main gate. The same boy I traumatized this morning, Percy, still on guard duty. Rick jogged to catch up with me, falling into step beside me.

"Should I be worried?"

He didn't need to elaborate. Daryl and I were hardly on the best of terms and me rushing off in the middle of the day, armed to the teeth and with enough supplies to last a week would make anyone worry.

"No."

"Any chance I can convince you to wait for him to come back?"

"No."

He sighed, looking skyward at the black mass of clouds forming in the distance.

"Weather's not gonna hold much longer." True. Irrelevant, but true.

I stopped at the main gate, the boy's face paling considerable as he eyed me. I bet he wished he never got up this morning. Rick took mercy on him, waving him off with a flick of his wrist. He scampered away so quickly he left a trail of in his wake.

"I don't like this," he stated, face darkening. He didn't have to like it. He just had to accept it. He uncoiled the chain, sliding the gate open. "Be careful."

I smiled, "Will do."

He closed the gate behind me, wrapping his fingers around the fence.

"At what point should I get worried?"

"Two days," I answered, surveying the yard full of walkers while plotting the best way out. "Three tops. Anything beyond that and something's wrong."

He sighed, "And then what?"

"Send Merle." I glanced over my shoulder at him, "I'll leave a trail he'll be able to follow even in the rain."

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Will you be able to follow Daryl's trail?"

"Sure."

Assuming I found it. I tried to sound confident so Rick wouldn't freak out, but truth was for a man Daryl's size he left practically no footprint when he traveled. It was like he floated over the blades of grass and soft soil. If I had any hope of catching up with him first I had to pick up his trail _before_ the rain washed away what little trace of him was out there.

"Good luck Alex. I'm glad you're both…birds."

I jogged off, easily avoiding the sluggish walkers that attempted to follow me. When I reached the tree line I turned to the East, scouring the landscape for any sign of the hunter. It took me half an hour of traveling in circles before I picked up what looked like a faint trail. Trail was a bit of an overstatement. It was little more than a busted twig and two blades of bent grass, but the size and shape of the depression said it was human. The length of the strides told me it wasn't a walker. Walkers didn't pick their feet up when they moved around. They shuffled. The imprint, faint as it was, matched Daryl's boot size. Although it also matched 100 other people, but I was playing the odds. Hopefully there wasn't another redneck that moved like a ghost out hunting that wore a size 13 boot.

I followed the trail for hours, backtracking more times than I could count only to start again when the trail went abruptly cold. One second I was following footsteps and then nothing which was impossible. He had to go somewhere so back I went until I found the last piece of solid evidence the mutant existed and tried again.

He wasn't making this easy and I snorted. When was anything with Daryl ever easy? At least I had a trail to follow and hadn't run into any sizeable force of walkers. I bent down, examining a branch missing a section of bark on one side in a particularly dense portion of the woods, a set of deer tracks heading in the same direction. In my head I imagined him standing beside the tree, seeing the tracks and taking a light step forward to investigate. His gigantic foot stepping on the branch and causing a small section of bark to break off. It was Daryl. It had to be. Walkers were too clumsy to a stalk deer with this kind of discrete precision and I had yet to come across anyone living with the skill to traverse the woods with such stealth. It was ironic I knew it was him _because_ there was practically nothing to go on.

I stood up, smiling to myself. This was progress, but froze when a plop of water hit my forehead. I held a hand out, closing my eyes and groaning when I felt cool water hit my palm. The sky that only moments ago was bright and sunny turned dark and stormy in an instant. Huge, angry clouds blanketed the sky, casting the woods into relative darkness.

I looked towards the heavens just as a clap of thunder erupted above me, followed closely by a bolt of lightning streaking across the sky. All at once the sky opened up, rain falling so heavily I could hardly see two feet in front of me. Frantically I searched for the last sign of Daryl before all traces of him were lost to the weather, but the ground was already saturated, erasing any evidence of the hunter or the deer he was tracking.

I turned in a circle, the wind picking up as the rain pelted my exposed skin. In an instant I was disoriented, holding a hand in front of my face that did nothing to stem the weather assaulting me with relentless intensity. The ground turned soft, my feet slipping even though I was standing perfectly still. Visibility was damn near zero. I needed somewhere to hole up and wait out the weather, but I couldn't see my hand in front of my face much less potential shelter. Everywhere I looked I saw nothing but a torrential downpour.

"Shit."

* * *

 **This is it, the beginning of the end. The next chapter is the conclusion of this particular arc and I feel like it has a little bit of everything, action, adventure, sadness, angst, humor and yes, happiness. What do you guys think about how everything is shaking out?**

 **Wanna hear a funny story? I was editing this chapter one night and The Notebook was on. Just as I got to the part with Alex and Merle the movie was playing the "If you're a bird, I'm a bird" part. I started imaging the two of them talking about it and it cracked me up so I went back and added it. I hope you thought it was funny too. Something about imaging Merle and Daryl sitting around watching that movie (and crying no less) brings tears to my eyes. I love it.**

 **The next chapter's a doozy. I hope you guys are ready and really, really hope you like where all this is headed. Let me know!**


	35. Tell Me You Love Me

**Tell Me You Love Me**

I've always hated water. Swimming pools, lakes, rivers, bath tubs they all sucked. In the summer when all the kids in the neighborhood clamored to the pool or the nearby lake I stayed safely tucked away on dry land. I didn't like the feel of being soaked, the wet hair, the sticky bathing suits, the grimy film it left behind on your skin. I hated it all. My showers were even held to the bare minimum, used only for hygiene, not pleasure. Get in, get clean, get out. No dilly-dally. No long, drawn out bathing rituals complete with shower singing or scented candles and luffas.

Nope. Not me.

This made my current predicament suck a particularly nasty set of donkey balls. It had been raining for hours and as far as I could tell the heavens had no plans to stop anytime soon. I felt like Noah without the ark. If I wasn't so fucking miserable I would have been impressive. People said I had issues. I say people who smile when it rains were the ones with the real issues. I was keeping my eyes on those fuckers, trust.

I trudged through the water logged forest at a snail's pace, if that. I'd long since abandoned trying to locate anything even resembling Daryl's trail and was instead trying to locate any form of shelter or a lifeboat, but there was nothing but trees, walkers, and water around every bend. I was tired, wet, cold and night was rapidly approaching. All-in-all I was severely screwed.

The guttural snarls of the dead behind me were barely audible over the howling wind and thunder. It was hard to judge their distance in this weather, but I couldn't take the chance of being caught out in the open. The few dozen I fought off while traipsing through this nightmare were difficult to dispatch. The mud, the limited visibility, my water soaked clothes and gear weighing me down, all of it made killing them that much more dangerous. I leaned against a massive tree, breathing in heavy gasps of air, hands braced on my knees. Mud coated my legs up to my knees and bruises were already forming on my arms from slipping and sliding down a hill on my ass. Not my finest moment, but this weather made me as coordinated as a rhinoceros on roller skates. The only good news was I was no longer covered in walker guts. I would take mud over intestines any day of the week.

It could have been a trick of the weather, but I swore the moans were getting closer and heading straight for me. I pressed my back into the tree, trying to make myself as small as possible as I tightened the grip on my rifle. Exhaustion was another serious issue with no solution. I debated the pros and cons of confronting the dead or taking the chance they passed by and I remained unseen. Four of them shuffled into view and I scrunched up my face in disgust. Water logged walkers were not for the faint of heart. The rain had one of two effects on the dead. For some the pelting rain acted like a power washer, sloughing the skin right off their decaying bodies, the flesh pooling at their feet in jellylike clumps. Others seemed to soak up it up like a dying plant, their bodies swelling and bloating to the point of bursting. I didn't know which one was worse, but I knew one thing, they both made me want to puke.

Because my luck was non-existent the group stopped, their heads swiveling left and right as they sniffed the air trying to locate my scent. Just like animals their sense of smell deteriorated with the decline in the weather and thank god because it was probably the only thing keeping me alive at the moment. I took a deep breath, holding it in for a second before slowly exhaling, my body tensing as I readied to attack. I couldn't outrun them in this weather and there was no way I could leave a group this large roaming the area at night. If they weren't going to move on they had to die.

I mentally counted down from three in my head, crossing my fingers I could pull this off, but before I got to one a pair of arms wrapped around my body, pulling me back and out of sight, a hand covering my mouth and muffling the sound of my surprise. My brain went haywire. My body reacting without thought as I struggled against my captor. I jabbed a sharp elbow into their gut and he let out a barely audible 'ompf', but his hold never lessened. He, and it was most definitely a he judging by sheer size, was strong. I picked up my foot, getting ready to slam the heel of my boot down on his toes, but he yanked me backwards, dragging me to the ground. Panic hijacked my brain, a chill racing down my spine as every vile way this encounter might end flashed across my eyes in morbid detail. The man pulled me closer, pressing his face against mine, the short stubble of his facial hair rubbing against my sensitive skin and immediately I stopped struggling.

That scent.

This body.

I knew it.

"Red," Daryl whispered in my ear and I sagged against him, relief so overpowering surging through me I went limp in his arms.

He lowered us to the ground, releasing his hold on me as I turned to face him. He was drenched as well, his dirty blonde hair plastered to his face, clothes clinging to his body in such a provocative manner I was barely able to stop from licking my lips. He took his time examining me, his surprise at finding me slogging through the woods apparent on his normally blank face. His surprise was only momentary before he locked down his expression reverting to a mask of indifference that made me bristle but didn't surprise me. I wasn't exactly off to the races. So far I'd mistaken him for a kidnapper and accidently assaulted him. He put his finger to his lips, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet before unslinging his crossbow. He gestured for me to follow him and I nodded once, trailing behind him as he confidently led us away from the walkers and deeper into the woods.

We walked in silence for nearly 20 minutes before the woods thinned out revealing a small cabin. The butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive as I remembered _in detail_ the last time we stowed away in a cabin in the woods. Judging by the taut lines of his shoulder and the fact he hadn't once looked at me the entire time we were walking I didn't think this encounter was likely to end like the last. Bummer.

I glanced around, nothing but rain, trees and mud for as far as the eye could see and I suddenly remembered why I was here. I felt like Frodo carrying "The Ring", and the damn thing was practically burning a hole in my pocket begging to be used. Suddenly the 10 feet to the cabin was too long to wait. I had to know now.

"Daryl," I yelled over the howling wind and he stopped immediately, glancing over his shoulder. When he saw me standing still in the rain he frowned.

"Come on," he urged, turning without further comment, head down against the raging storm.

"Wait." His shoulders went up and down quickly like he was sighing in annoyance, but I didn't move as he turned to face me. He didn't look happy.

"It's rainin' harder than a cow pissin' on a flat rock." I scratched my head, trying to translate the redneck in a timely manner, but I took too long. "Let's go."

"No," I said firmly. He looked ready to strangle me so I dug into my pocket, pulling out the ring. "Not until you explain this."

His jaw twitched slightly. The only indication he was on edge. His eyes flicked to the ring in my hand for a moment before meeting my eyes, his stupid blank face staring back at me. A tiny sliver of doubt made my hands shake. I realized, belatedly, I may have jumped the gun here. I ran off in the middle of a downpour to track down a man who hadn't spoken two words to me in weeks because I told him to "stay the fuck away from me" and almost knocked out two of his teeth. All on the word of a man who was so full of shit most of the time toilets were jealous.

"Where'd ya get that?" he hissed, taking a threatening step forward and I swallowed hard, holding my ground.

"Did you make it?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Don't matter."

"I think it does," I corrected. "Answer the question." He shook his head, a disbelieving expression on his face. Well, that was better than nothing.

"Don't work that way Red." He turned, heading for the cabin. "I don't owe ya nothin'."

We were gonna have to agree to disagree. I wasn't letting this go. I couldn't. Sometimes there was no next time, no later, sometimes it was now or never. I moved like the lightening streaking across the sky, lunging forward and grabbing his arm, spinning him around to face me.

"You owe me an explanation!" I screamed.

"Bullshit!" he yelled right back, getting in my face. "Ya didn't wanna hear nothin' I had to say b'fore so don't be askin' now."

I shoved him in the chest, "Yes I do!" I shoved him again, his feet shuffling back a step, but it felt more like he was moving because he choose to than because of me. "I wasn't ready to hear it then, but I'm all ears now. So tell me, _what is_ _this_?"

He ground his teeth together, the rain pelting his face, droplets of water soaking the tendrils of his hair. The beads of rain traveled down each strand, lone droplets hanging precariously on the ends for a split second before cascading down his face. I sucked in a ragged breath, stunned into silence. He was breathtaking. The rain had washed his face clean of mud and grime, his blue eyes a start contrast against his tan complexion. He was all perfect angles and chiseled features. A strong jaw, perfect nose and cheek bones so high they would make a model drool with envy. He was absolute perfection in my eyes. So beautiful it hurt to look at him. I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear his proximity and not touch him.

"Please," I begged, barely a whisper, "If you ever cared about me, even for a second, please tell me what this is. What does it mean?"

That was emotional blackmail if I ever heard it, but I was desperate. His body shook and I didn't know if that was good or bad. This was it. There was no going back. We were standing on the edge of forever or nothing, our toes hanging over the brink of what could potentially be unfathomable bliss or unrecoverable heartache. I held my breath, the rain stinging my skin, but I didn't move, waiting, for him. With every second that passed my hopes fell further and further until I was sure there was none left, but out of nowhere he exhaled harshly, his shoulders sagging.

"It was my…grandma's ring," he forced out, words clipped, body so stiff he looked absolutely lethal. I stayed still, afraid any movement might cause him to stop or run. "Had it my whole life." He confirmed everything Merle said, but my heart was hammering so loud in my ears I was surprised I could hear over it. "The first time…the first time I kissed ya…I knew."

My lips trembled, taking in his adorable blush as he stared into my eyes like he was seeing into my soul. "Knew what?"

He took a step forward, taking the ring from my hands and rubbing it between his fingers. "That ya was it for me." All the air in my lungs whooshed out. "She would've loved ya. Y'all ain't nothin' alike, but ya have the same spirit, the same soul." He had the same wistful expression on his face Merle did when he spoke about her. It made me sad I never got to meet her. "Somethin' 'bout the ring didn't feel right as it was so I asked Glenn to help me out. Didn't know what the hell I was doin' till it was done, but somehow it just fits ya." Every walker on this Earth could have strolled into the clearing and I wouldn't have taken my eyes off the man in front of me. "It's hard and soft like ya," his fingers traced the copper wire, "The wire, it makes me think of forever. The way it wraps 'round the ring over and over only to start again. It's endless. That's what I feel when I think 'bout ya Red."

The wind whirled around us, a cocoon of rain hammering our bodies. The ball was in my court now. He did as I asked and laid his soul bare. I either forgave him now and we moved forward together or we ended, forever.

"Ask me," I said, holding his gaze.

He frowned. "Not like this," he said, pulling me closer, trying to use his body to shield me from the rain. "Not here."

"Ask me."

I didn't care about the where. In the middle of a tornado next to a deserted cabin was as good a place as any. He swallowed hard, hands shaking as he held the ring. He looked nervous and it was so endearing I think I fell in love with him all over again. I thought I would feel nervous, terrified even at the enormity of what was happening, but I didn't. If anything I felt anticipation, excitement, elation.

"Alexandrina Victoria Winters." He paused, giving me his signature smirk that legitimately made me swoon before taking a deep breath I copied. "Leavin' ya that day was the hardest thing I ever done. It felt like somethin' inside me died I might never get back. I know I don't deserve ya, but I'll spend whatever time I got left trying to be worthy of ya." He stepped closer and I tilted my head back so I could see him. "I waited my whole life to love ya Red. Will ya be my wife?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

He crushed me to him, my arms going around his neck as he lifted me off the ground, pressing his lips to mine. I melted against him, my hands fisted in his hair. He nibbled on my lower lip and I sighed, slanting my head and opening my mouth as his tongue danced with mine. We devoured each other until the need for oxygen forced us apart and he reluctantly lowered me to the ground, keeping his hands at my waist.

"I got somethin' that belongs to ya."

His voice sounded hoarse as he pulled back, holding up the ring. I grinned at him, tears welling in my eyes the rain washed away as I held out my left hand. He smiled bashfully, sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly and I had no idea why that shocked me. Nothing with Daryl should come as a surprise at this point. He interlaced our fingers, a proud smile lighting up his face as he looked at the ring on my finger.

"My turn," I declared, steadying my nerves for the delivery of my vows.

The thought drew me up short. We were getting married. Right here. Right now. In the middle of a torrential downpour we were pledging our heart and soul to each other for better or worse, till death do us part. It was absolutely crazy and that was why I knew it was right. Even before the end of the world I never would have wanted a big ceremony in front of dozens of people I didn't like. This, right here, with him, was perfect.

"A long time ago I thought I made decisions that meant I would end up alone. There isn't a lot in my life I'm proud of, but despite the pain and sadness I wouldn't change a thing." His grip on my hips tightened and I smiled at him. He looked enthralled as I pledged myself to him. "I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I would gladly accept the struggle, the suffering, because it brought me to you." I curled my fingers into his shirt, the two of us holding each other up. "Daryl Dixon, in every universe, every world, every lifetime, I will love you. From this moment, until my last breath, I'm yours, totally, completely, forever."

He looked at me with such tenderness my heart skipped a beat, one hand reverently tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear as he leaned down. He took his time. His eyes sweeping over every inch of my face as he tilted my chin up, closing the distance excruciatingly slow. The butterflies fluttering in my stomach started tap dancing when his lips touched mine. Our kiss this time was slow and deliberate, a promise of things to come. Without breaking the kiss he hoisted me into his arms, walking us to the cabin, only breaking apart once he reached the door. With grace I would never be able to duplicate he somehow managed to open the door and not drop me, carrying me inside and kicking the door closed with his heel.

"Did you just carry me across the threshold?" He took a few more steps into the one-room cabin before depositing me on my feet.

"It's what husband's do ain't it?" In Carol's smut novels they carried their wives everywhere, so yeah, I guess so.

"You're my husband," I stated, a dopey smile on my face. "We're married."

He nodded, the smirk back on his sexy face. He looked awfully proud of himself. "Ya gonna freak out 'bout it?" I scoffed, that was my line and no I wasn't. I had never been surer of anything in my life. "Good, cause yur stuck with me now Alex Dixon." I could think of worse things to be stuck on. His eyes darkened as he stalked forward, his movements just like when he hunted only this time I was the prey. "Is that so?"

I slapped a hand over my mouth. I said that out loud?

The closer he got the more rational thought became difficult. He stopped in front of me, reaching forward and tugging my tank top over my head. The shiver that racked my body had nothing to do with the chill in the air as his eyes drifted over my skin. He hesitated slightly and I smiled at him, turning slowly, looking at him over my shoulder. He took a deep breath as I moved my hair over my shoulder, allowing him easy access to my bra which he wasted no time in removing. The flimsy piece of clothing fell from my shoulders and I used my forearm to hold it in place, keeping my breasts covered as I turned back around to face him before slowly letting my arm drop, the bra following suit. I was naked from the waist up and he drank in the sight of me like a man dying of thirst.

Itching to even the playing field I tentatively touched the buttons on his shirt, my eyes asking permission. I'd seen the scars on his back before, but it was always a touchy subject so I wanted to be sure he felt comfortable. He nodded jerkily and I offered him an encouraging grin. The fact he trusted me with this meant more than I could ever explain. Slowly I undid each button before sliding my hands under his shirt, gradually running my hands across his chest then up to his shoulders. He groaned, eyes slamming shut as he pressed his lips together, fighting to remain in control. I smiled internally as I slide the shirt off, letting it fall to the ground. He was undeniable gorgeous, his body a swathe of lean muscles that drew my attention in every direction all at once. My eyes flicked to his as I laid a hand on his belt buckle, a hiss of air escaping between his clenched teeth when I unlatched it. I wasted no time hastily unbuckling his pants, my own need pooling low in my belly. The drenched denim fell to the floor, the buckle clinking as it hit the ground. He kicked off his boots, stepping out of the wet fabric bunched around his ankles.

He was a vision standing their naked. His body built to perfection. Years of hunting and back breaking work carving his body into stone. He was made for survival, every inch of muscle serving a purpose, but as my heart galloped in my chest it felt like he was made simply to be my undoing. One look at him and I wanted to ravish him. I wanted to own him. I wanted to feel every inch of him against every inch of me, over and over, slow, fast and every speed in-between.

He walked closer and I couldn't stop my fingers as they reached out exploring his chest and abs with rapt fascination. If possible he felt more amazing than he looked. My god how I missed him. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth as my hands traced a path across his body, and in that moment I felt empowered. Not in the same way I did when I faced a herd of walkers or charged into battle, but it was a similar heady sensation. I licked my lips, my fingers trailing down the first of his many tightly coiled ab muscles. His hand snapped forward, encircling my wrist gently, stopping me.

"What?" I croaked, my throat dry.

"Yur turn."

He didn't need to elaborate and I let my hands fall to my side as he undid the button on my jeans. Unlike his baggy pants mine were skin tight. The wet jeans stayed rooted in place even after he freed the button and pulled down the zipper.

"Guess you're gonna have to do it the hard way." On second thought, maybe water wasn't so bad after all.

He looked down at me, his lips twitching. "Guess so."

When his hands slide into my jeans, slipping underneath my panties and down my hips I felt unsteady on my feet. When he started pulling both garments down my legs so slowly my throat went dry I thought I might pass out. He knelt before me, our eyes locked, my hands on his shoulders as he slowly helped me out of one leg then the other. When I felt his lips trailing kisses up my thighs my heart did a backflip, my nails digging into his shoulders as my mouth watered in anticipation. He drug his tongue across my stomach, hands caressing me with firm pressure that felt like the most sensual massage known to man. He stood and now it was his turn to stare. It wasn't the first time I was naked in front of him, but this felt different. It felt like _more_. It felt like everything. Any doubts I had evaporated when I saw the raw hunger in his fiery gaze, the intensity heating me to my core. He wasn't just thrilled with what he saw. He was downright ecstatic. A girl could get used to this.

Before I could register what he was doing I was on my back with him above me. I expected to feel the hard surface of cabin floor pressing against me, but instead I felt a plush quilt and the soft but old springs of a mattress. There was a bed in here? I hadn't even noticed. Not that I was complaining. Daryl pressed his forehead against mine, one hand slipping to the nape of my neck as the other pulled the hair tie from my hair, my tresses billowing out around my head like a halo. Staring up at him, his eyes as bright and beautiful as any sapphire my love for him knew no bounds. I couldn't contain it, couldn't comprehend its endless depth.

"I love you," I told him, my voice shaking. "I didn't think this was something I deserved. I didn't think it was possible, for someone to…" He shook his head, silently telling me I was wrong, so very wrong. "For the first time in my life I've felt happiness and it's all because of you. Everything that's good inside of me I owe to you. You're the best part of me."

I would have kept going, could have spent the entire night trying to explain the magnitude to which he changed me, but he silenced me with his mouth. His lips were gentle on mine, a sweet sweep of his tongue that was at such odds with the man himself I felt it all the way down to my toes. His grip on my neck tightened as one hand strayed to my hips, tilting them up as he urged me closer. I felt his heart beating in his chest as he pressed me into the mattress, my hands sweeping through his hair and down his back. He poured every ounce of his love into each kiss and every touch. It felt like he was claiming me and I claimed him right back. After everything we went through, all the obstacles we faced, we somehow found our way back to each other.

There was nothing between us now, but I was heady with need for more of him. I wanted him so badly my body ached. I craved him, the longing a bottomless pit I would never be able to escape. I pulled him closer, his hands burning a trail down my body as his lips tattooed my soul. I knew he felt the same desire, the same passion, the same hunger. It was in every roll of his hips and swipe of his tongue. He didn't speak with words because this was Daryl. He didn't express himself verbally, but he used his body like a finely tuned instrument, spelling out every feeling, thought and desire one painfully arousing touch at a time.

I thought I heard him mutter "beautiful" as he trailed a line of languid kisses between my breasts, but was having a hard time understanding the English language. When he lifted his head, grinning at me slightly before continuing down my ribs to my stomach I forgot to breathe. He moved again, his head between my legs, and all higher reasoning skills flew out the window. My back arched as he kissed the most sensitive part of me, lapping me up as I moaned his name like a prayer, his hands holding my hips in place even as I bucked against him, the exquisite pleasure devastating me. His every touch, every kiss, sent a jolt of desire surging through me until I was teetering on the brink of exploding.

"Please," I whimpered, my hands spread out wide as I gripped the quilt, hanging on for dear life.

He obliged with a sensual swipe of his tongue and that was all it took. My eyes slammed shut, his name catching in my throat. It felt so good, so unbelievable my body quaked with aftershocks long after he was done. I felt high, like I might float up thought the ceiling and touch the stars. My body was mush under him as he made his way back up my body, kissing every inch of skin, bracing an arm on either side of my head as he gazed down at me.

"Thank…thank you." My tongue felt swollen and lazy as I stumbled over the words. A thunderous laugh burst out of him, his shoulders shaking as he held himself above me.

"Whatcha thankin' me for?" he inquired, leaning down and kissing my jaw. I tilted my head back, giving him better access. I felt his smirk as his tongue licked the sensitive nape of my neck making me shutter.

"Felt like I owed it to womankind," I sighed, eyes rolling somewhere in the back of my skull when he bit my earlobe. He stopped for a moment, reaching down beside the bed, fumbling with something for a moment before righting himself. My head felt impossibly heavy as I lifted it off the bed, curious what was important enough to stop the pleasure parade. When I saw him unwrapping the foil wrapper of a condom I thanked my lucky stars one of us was still adulting. "Good call."

He chuckled as he sank back down on me, his weight against my body indescribably wonderful. My body was instantly ready for more. My desire for him insatiable. Holy shitballs, this man should be studied. My hands wound around him pulling him down even as I angled my hips up. There was nothing between us and all I could think about was my need for more, but as he pushed into me with one soft, solid stroke I stopped trying to think and focused only on feeling. The way he moved inside me, the soft growl that rumbled in his chest as I matched his pace was heaven. His eyes never left my face and I was transfixed. He was beautiful and he was mine. My hands dug into his shoulders as the pressure built inside of me. He said my name, maybe, I couldn't say for sure as he found just the right angle to coax another intoxicating rush of sensation out of me.

By his own admission I knew he only had a handful of lovers, and as such, one might expect him to be clumsy or timid, but he navigated my body like he was born to do it. He knew even before I did what I wanted, what I needed. I had no idea how he did what he did. It was like he was magic. Never before had I shook and trembled in someone's arms, and those soft, pleading noises coming from my lips were foreign to my ears. I was putty in his hands. Being stretched and pulled, reshaped in his capable hands. I felt like a piece of cloth being pulled too tight. It was too much and still not enough, pressure building and building to the point I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could do nothing but beg him for the release only he could provide. He muttered something, hips slamming into me and then, without warning, the tension snapped, and I was caught in a whirlwind not unlike the one raging outside the tiny cabin. Daryl groaned my name, a hoarse whisper against my ear as he followed me into the storm, hs body shaking above me as he found his release before collapsing on top of me.

"Damn," he mumbled, his head tucked against my shoulder as I gently stroked his hair.

"You can say that again Legolas."

He wiggled in my arms, rolling onto his back and pulling me flush against him as he covered us with the quilt. I laid my head on his chest, absently tracing random patterns on his skin as I listened to the wind howling outside and the steady thump of his heart. Maybe it would never stop raining and we could stay here forever. My body felt boneless and weak in his arms. I doubted I could fight off Nugget in my current state and I was fine with that. I wanted an eternity of nights like this.

"Do you ever think about the future?" I asked.

It took him a moment to respond. He took a deep breath, his voice lazy. "Nah."

"Even before all this?"

"Never saw the point I guess." He rubbed his hand up and down my bare arms, hugging me tighter when I shivered, taking care to tuck the blanket firmly around me. "What 'bout you?"

I thought about my future on an endless loop, both before and after the end of the world. When I was a child I was desperate to be something, anything other than who I was, trying in vain to outrun my parentage. I always wondered if my future held anything different than my youth. I wanted a life free of pain, disappointment, and heartbreak. Unfortunately, as an adult little changed except the demons I ran from. I held little hope my future held anything except the same loneliness I experienced as a child and an early death. The only place I found refugee were my dreams on the rare occasions they weren't plagued by nightmares. On those nights I was someone else, someone happy, someone loved. I dreamed of a place without shape, more feelings than actual detail, but in that bright shapeless future I was who I always wanted to be. Those dreams were peaceful and I was more peaceful for them. That was the future I wanted.

"Red?" he probed, his body shifting as he tucked an arm beneath his head, propping it up.

"I want a future where I can use my hands for something other than destruction," I admitted, my cheek pressed against his chest as I wrapped my arm around his waist. "I don't want to only be a killer."

He gathered me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Yur more than that. Always have been."

"That's not true."

"Look at me." I obeyed, tilting my head back. "It's true." When I shook my head he shushed me. "Yur more than that to me."

"Daryl…"

He picked up my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my palm, "These hands have done more than killin'." I blinked rapidly as he turned my hand over pressing another soft kiss to the other side. "Dontcha see…the future ya want is already real." He collected both my hands, holding them together in the palm of his hand. "Yur hands have loved me. They don't just tear things down, and I would know cause I ain't never felt like this, not ever. I love ya so damn much it feels like I might die without ya."

A single tear fell as I sniffled, "Thank you."

He rolled his eyes, brushing off the compliment as he settled back into the bed. "Could get used to ya thankin' me all the time."

"Please," I scoffed. I couldn't have him getting spoiled.

He laughed, "Getting' pretty used to hearin' that too." I playfully shoved him, a silent laughter shaking his body. I snuggled against him, my body tired and eyes heavy as sleep pulled at me. "Hey Red."

"Yeah," I yawned.

"When ya asked if I ever thought about the future…." he trailed off and I waited. "I ain't never thought 'bout it cause there wasn't nothin' to think about. I was nobody b'fore all this. Nothin' was gonna change that."

"And now?"

I heard him biting his fingernail. "I never thought I had a future to think 'bout." He paused, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear. "When I think 'bout it now I see ya. Yur my future."

Shakespeare didn't have shit on declarations of love compared to Daryl Dixon. I relished his words, tucking them away in the safest place in my heart where I could revisit them. I knew the second we left this cabin the proverbial bubble we were surrounded by would burst thrusting us back into the harsh reality of the world. But these moments, his words, I could cherish them whenever I wanted. No one would ever witness this side of him, it was only for me, and I promised to protect his trust with everything at my disposal. I gave myself to him, fully, completely, holding nothing back as we showed each other our love again and again until night faded into early morning. As I drifted off, my sweaty, sated body tucked firmly against his, I smiled remembering Carol's words. She was right. I knew that now, knew it with the same certainty that the sun would rise and set each day. It became my truth. My entire existence.

Daryl Dixon would love me for the rest of his life and I would love him right back.

"Hey Katniss." Now it was his turn to yawn.

"Yeah." I curled into a ball, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"If you're a bird, I'm a bird."

His body went stiff under me and I couldn't hold the laughter in for another second. My body shook as tears streamed down my face. He rolled over slightly taking me with him as he looked down at me, his face more embarrassed than angry. Another spasm of giggles ripped through me as I realized it was true. He cried at the end of The Notebook. I threw my head back, laughing so hard my stomach hurt, the sound filling the quiet cabin.

"I'm gonna kill him."

* * *

 **This is it...the big finale. Was it everything you were hoping for and more? I really hope it was worth the wait. They didn't just make up...they got married! :) Let me know what you think.**


	36. Just Married

**Just Married**

"If ya spent half as much energy walkin' as ya did complain' we'd be there by now."

"Bite me," I snapped, shooting him the finger just in case my displeasure wasn't clear.

He grinned, "Took care of that this morning Mrs. Dixon." I rolled my eyes. Cocky bastard. "Come on, pick it up, got a long way to go."

"You're an asshole," I complained, struggling to keep pace with his huge strides. "Can you slow down you long-legged hillbilly?" My grandmother was right, you didn't have to like someone to love them. He stopped, looking at me with a thoughtful expression. "What?"

"Nothin', just the honeymoon phase is a bit shorter than I figured." My mouth dropped open. Oh. No. He. Didn't. "Don't worry Red, naggin' wife looks good on ya."

My already precarious balance failed me spectacularly, my feet slipping and sliding in the copious amounts of Georgian mud coating the saturated ground. My arms waved around frantically as I pitched backwards, but before I could fall, again, Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing my upper arm and stopping me. This was ridiculous. I was not clumsy. I was not uncoordinated. I was stealthy and sure-footed and goddamn graceful.

Just not today.

It was almost impossible to walk on the sloppy landscape _and_ mentally undress my new husband. My normally reliable feet were as useless as the 'g' in lasagna when I attempted both tasks simultaneously. It only made it worse Daryl had the balance of the Flying Wallendas. Life was so unfair.

"Shit," I exclaimed, trying in vain to get both feet back under me.

Daryl sighed, grabbing both shoulders, his biceps bulging as he picked me up like a doll, setting me back on two feet and somewhat solid ground.

"Thanks," I said absently, admiring his muscled arms. "Tell me again why we're rushing to get back?"

The way I saw it we had a pretty good (outstanding) set-up at the cabin and no one was expecting us for at least another day, maybe two.

"Can't stay holed up in that cabin forever." He shot me a knowing look. "Much as I'd like to."

"Amen."

I held out my fist for him to bump and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I snorted, grabbing his hand and bumping it against my fist. He was teaching me redneck and I was teaching him how to be awesome. We were both struggling.

"Gonna take the better part of the day to make it back and we ain't got nothin' to show for it neither."

"Except getting married and wild monkey sex," I mumbled under my breath.

He rounded on me, pulling me flush against his hard body and my bones liquefied in an instant. I sank into him not the least bit ashamed to say I was panting.

"That don't feed nobody but ya and me Red." He leaned down, brushing his lips tenderly against mine. "While I ain't complain' 'bout that…" The thought of _that_ made my blood rush, heart pound, and cock socket tingle. "Stop."

"What?" _How did he do that?_

He pointed at me, "Written all over yur face."

"OK, you're starting to freak me out. Turn off the Vulcan mind meld for a while. Let me fantasy in peace."

He shook his head, "We need to find some game. Got a lotta mouths to feed."

"When did you get all responsible?"

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, grinning at me before turning around. "Since Rick stepped down. Everybody's gotta pull their weight."

I kept my eyes glued to his ass, walking silently behind him. One, his ass was amazing and _not_ looking at it was like not breathing, impossible. Two, I didn't want to have this conversation again. I understood Rick's decision to hand over the mantle of leadership. I even supported it. He was struggling. It was a minor miracle he was able to hold it together as long as he had after Lori's death, but now that the immediate threat from Woodbury had passed he needed time. Time to heal. Time to mourn. Time to figure out how to live without her. The strain of leadership on top of all that healing was too much. The group's decision going forward was to form a council to oversee life at the prison in all its facets.

"Still got a burr in yur saddle over it I see," he commented, glancing at me over his shoulder.

"I don't have a burr in anything unfortunately." I laughed at his stony expression. So far marriage was awesome. I had one special person I could legally annoy for the rest of my natural life. "I'm all for democracy. Viva la revolucion! What could possibly go wrong?"

He sighed, "That ain't what I meant and ya know it." I ignored him, opting to enjoy the view. Was it just me or did his ass look better when my hands were on it? "They wanted ya on it."

"And I said no."

He stopped, facing me head on, surprised plastered on his face. I smirked, brushing past him with a raised eyebrow. Our lack of communication over the last few weeks meant he wasn't privy to my decision to turn down a seat on the council.

"Don't look so shocked. I don't play well with others." Just ask poor Pedro the Gate Guard.

In a few long strides he was back at my side, the two of us walking in blissful silence. I scanned the area for any tracks while Daryl thought so hard it made my eye twitch. Why he was shocked I turned down a seat on The Council of Elrond was mystifying. Why the other members of the group thought it was a good idea to even suggest my name was equally baffling. The only thing I did worse than compromise was diplomacy.

"You keep thinking so hard you're gonna break something," I commented, examining what looked like deer tracks. His only response was a non-committal grunt as he peered over my shoulder. "It's wounded." I pointed at the uneven tracks in the mud. "Favoring its right side."

He hummed in agreement as I stood up, wiping the sweat from my forehead with my hand. Between the old tracks and the lame animal it was a lost cause. Traipsing through the woods looking for a hurt animal that was most likely already dead was a waste of time. Walkers would find the carcass long before we did and without knowing what caused its present state we couldn't risk eating it.

"Ya really told 'em no?"

"I really told them no." I adjusted the rifle in my hands, eyes shifting to him briefly. "Besides, I think one Dixon on the council is plenty."

He snorted, bumping his shoulder against mine with a smirk. "Guess so."

My entire body flushed with excitement at the thought. I was a Dixon now, for real this time. It was a surreal feeling. When I left the prison this wasn't how I expected things to shake out. Yes, I was carrying around a wedding band, but never in a million years did I think our stalemate would end with us getting hitched. Yelling, screaming and bodily harm, sure. Marriage followed by enough sex to have me walking funny for days, no, not really. I liked this outcome _way_ _better_ even if I was forced to walk like I was riding an imaginary horse.

My soaring heart came crashing back to reality the moment it dawned on me there was more to marrying Daryl than getting to grope his ass anytime I wanted. My matrimonial bliss came with a side order of being related to Merle, for real. Hopefully people wouldn't immediately judge me on my relatives.

"Why ya look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs?"

"Stop."

That was advanced redneck and I barely spoke basic. He was just being mean.

He grinned, "What is it?"

I opened my mouth, my tongue methodically rubbing my teeth in an effort to erase the grimy feeling I felt. It did nothing to lessen the implications of being in the same family tree as the eldest Dixon.

"Red?" he tried again, a slightly worried look on his face.

"I'm related to Merle," I whined. Daryl paused for a second, cocking his head to the side before a large smile lit up his face. "That's not something to smile about Neytiri."

"Kinda comes with the territory," he laughed, pointing at the ring on my left hand.

"Well, yeah, but…" I didn't have the words to accurately describe what I was feeling. "Ewww."

He chuckled, "If it makes ya feel better ya get used to it."

It didn't.

Daryl continued on, pushing a few branches out of the way so I didn't add concussions to the list of things ailing me. With no way to reconcile the new branch in my family tree I decided to ignore it, letting my mind drift back to the council. Daryl may not have known I was approached during the formation, but I knew he was offered a coveted seat. I also knew that unlike me he accepted, eventually.

Carol was crap at keeping secrets. All it took was the threat of withholding her beloved porn and she folded like origami telling me all the deets on the newly formed council. Who they considered. Who they asked. Who said yes. Who said no. Who said yes after being followed around and badgered by Carol for two straight days. I wasn't surprised they wanted Daryl and I wasn't surprised he accepted. He was born to lead whether he knew it or not and the council was better for having him on it.

I groaned at the sweat dripped down my face. It was still relatively early in the day, but the humidity was stifling. The storm's moisture lingering long after the weather had passed. The canopy overhead created by the trees provided some shade, but it did nothing to stop the rising temperatures. It was like walking through a never-ending sauna. I swear there was no good season in Georgia. It was either too hot or too cold. Was it too much to ask for a balmy 70 degrees with no humidity and a light breeze year round?

"Whatcha think 'bout takin' in more survivors?"

Movement to my right caught my attention and I brought my rifle up, squinting through the scope, nothing but a flock of birds. I sighed heavily, dropping the rifle with a shrug.

"I don't like new people."

He laughed, "Don't play well with others. Don't like new people. Ya ain't the most hospitable person I ever met."

"Yeah, I know, it's a real personality flaw." I grabbed a bottle of water from my pack, taking a few gulps before handing it to him. "It makes sense. If we're ever going to recover from this we have to start somewhere, but it makes me nervous."

New people meant new risks. I wasn't worried about myself. There wasn't a soul in that prison that could get within 100 yards of me unless I let them. It was the risk they posed to others that kept me up at night, mainly Carl and Nugget. I didn't want the new people around my niece and nephew. It was much easier to keep them away from Nugget. Once they were mobile you basically lost any semblance of control.

"Gonna start askin' them the questions b'fore we bring them in." Ah, the infamous three questions. If there was ever anything designed to give false hope it was those. "What's the look for?"

"There's no look," I lied. "I think asking people questions hallucinated by a grieving, unstable widower is genius." He pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. That was Daryl for disappointed. "What's _that_ _look for_? You can't tell me there aren't a few dozen holes in that theory."

"Best we can do," he contended and I scoffed. "Everybody ain't got a built in lie detector Red. It's better than nothin'."

No it wasn't. It was worse because it gave you a false sense of security.

"Uh huh."

Rick's parting gift as our resident dictator was a plan to identify _good_ non-dead people from _bad_ non-dead people. It consisted of three questions we were to ask anyone prior to bringing someone back to the prison. The origin of the three questions was sketchy at best, but involved the steam room and an inoperable phone so needless to say we were starting with a sizeable handicap.

 _How many walkers have you killed?_

 _How many people have you killed?_

 _Why?_

The intent of the first question was to gauge a person's ability to survive post-apocalypse. Never mind the sheer fact they made it this far meant they obviously had _some_ skills, be it killing or hiding. Both skills were beneficial in the world though I tended to lean toward killing being the more useful of the two.

The second question was designed to weed out the psychos. Again, by default, if you made it this far there was a better than average chance you killed someone, but there was a big difference between killing because you had no other choice and killing because it was a fun way to pass the time. Hello, Governor.

Thus we had the third question, deriving the why behind someone's decision to take a life. Intent made all the difference. It could make you a murderer just as easily as it could make you merciful.

"Ya don't like 'em?" He phrased it like a question, but it was a statement.

"I don't trust them," I confided in him, "People lie. You can't trust what they say. You have to look deeper than that."

Even then the ability to deceive was still there. I could lie my way through those questions blindfolded _and_ strapped to a polygraph. I could deceive my way into someone's life, gain their trust, find the weakness in their defenses and use it all against them before they ever knew what hit them.

Sure, most people (no one) could say the same thing, but people rarely said what they meant or meant what they said. Body language, facial expressions, tone of voice, posture, unconscious ticks, those were the things that told you everything you needed to know. I would always trust what I could see over what I heard.

"Guess it's a good thing yur the one bringin' 'em back then ain't it?" His smile was decidedly smug.

"Yeah."

When the dust settled after The Governor debacle we quickly found ourselves developing a routine. There was a lot that needed to be done. We had to rebuild portions of the prison destroyed during the battle, plant crops, find livestock, raise livestock, hunt, house our ever growing numbers and the list went on and on.

The first order of business was getting organized which meant dolling out responsibilities. I staunchly refused to do laundry, cook, or interact with the population in general, save our core group, so my options were severely limited. It was quickly decided I would focus on hunting, scavenging and by virtue of spending most of my time outside the fence, recruiting. The solution suited me just fine. Anything that provided even a moment of solitude from the swelling numbers in the prison was a win. Daryl could add large crowds to the list of things I didn't like.

The sound of moans and hissing made me freeze, my hand grabbing Daryl's forearm, one finger against my lips. His body tensed immediately, crossbow raised even as his eyes critically scanned the area. A very human cry for help came from our right and I stalked off in the same direction. We moved carefully. Someone obviously needed help, but the saturated vegetation made it difficult to judge the number of walkers. There was a fine line between helping and suicide.

Daryl raised a single hand, a signal to stop, quickly motioning to his right as he ducked behind a tree to his left. I shifted over, concealing my body behind a huge pine tree, peering around the trunk just in time to watch a man sprint by in front of me.

"Help!"

He slipped in the mud, going down in a heap of arms and legs. He dug his hands into the soft soil, his feet running though he never made any forward progress before he face planted in the mud. I could sympathize with that situation.

Daryl motioned behind the man and I groaned when I counted 12 walkers slowly surrounding him. My husband gave me a pointedly look meant to convey _be careful or else_. I gave him a look that conveyed _whatever_.

Slinging my rifle over my shoulder I snagged two knives from my sheath, twirling the one in my left hand, impatiently waiting for the signal to attack. The man gave up on running, his body propped up against a tree as he cried his way through his way through his last rites. I shook my head. God was busy at the moment, but if you left a message he would be sure to return your call.

Daryl held up his hand.

 **Three**.

The group of walkers shuffled closer, their snarls making the prone man shutter in revulsion. He curled into himself, burying his face in his hands. Ah, the ostrich defense.

 **Two.**

I turned to face them, digging my feet into the soft ground. If this ended with me face down in the mud there would be hell to pay.

 **One.**

They were only a few feet away now and the man stopped praying, opted instead to just cry quietly while he awaited the inevitable.

 **Go.**

I sprang from behind the tree slamming a knife into the head of the closest walker, sending up a a silent hallelujah when my coordination decided to come back from vacation. The mechanical whirl of an arrow sounded behind me, but I was already moving, jumping over the dead body at my feet. I ducked under the outstretched arms of a walker, coming up behind her and sinking my blade into her temple.

Daryl fired two more arrows in rapid succession, the wet plop of bodies hitting the ground music to my ears, but there was no time to celebrate. Three walkers were bearing down on me. One from the right, one from the left and one head-on. I ran at the one charging me, adrenaline racing through my veins. His jaw snapped repeatedly the closer I got, drool spilling out of the corner of his mouth in anticipation of a meal. He opened his arms wide like we were going to hug, eyes huge, white sockets, but I pushed my feet out from under me, using the wet ground to my advantage for once. I slide under him and between his wide spread legs with an amused laugh. And here I thought leaving cabin meant no more fun.

I popped to my feet behind the walker, plunging my knife into the soft skin at the base of his skull. He dropped instantly and I spun to my right throwing a knife before turning quickly to my left and repeating the action. The velocity of the blades caused the walkers feet to fly out from under them, sending them down hard on their backs where they stayed.

I didn't bother wasting time retrieving my knives, opting instead to draw two more. The fight was far from over. I saw Daryl in my peripheral slashing and striking with a knife of his own having abandoned his crossbow in such close quarters. Between the two of us we dispatched the walkers with ease. I was almost disappointed when only one remained. Fun at the cabin lasted much longer than this.

"Ahh!" the man screamed, turning sideways and curling into a ball.

A lone walker shuffled towards him. One walker with only one arm and a fairly noticeable limp courtesy of her right leg which was was dangling by a thread or a sinewy piece of muscle as it were. Daryl and I looked at each other than at the man with a sad shake of our heads.

"This guy," I huffed, flipping my knife around to hold it by the blade.

"Please lord, help me!"

I glanced at Daryl, "You think JC's taking requests?"

"Just…" He waved a hand in the man's general direction, massaging his forehead.

I threw the knife, the blade hurdling end-over-end, striking the walker in the back of the head just as she leaned down to take a bite out of the scaredy-cat. She collapsed on top of him and his shouts for help reached levels only previously achieved by foghorns. Daryl stomped forward, grabbing the walker by her tattered shirt and pulling her off him, dropping the lifeless body to the ground. The trembling man flinched, eyes wide as he stared at her.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

He kept repeated it over-and-over, eyes frozen on the dead walker, face pale. I walked around retrieving my knives, wiping the blood and gore on the walker's clothes before placing them back at my waist. Once I was done I made my way over to Daryl.

"Guess we can skip to question two," I joked. He gave me an unimpressed look and I grinned. "Piece of jerky says he's some kind of scientist."

He rolled his eyes at me, using the toe of his boot to nudge the man's leg and draw his attention. "Ya bit?"

"No, no, I'm not bit. They didn't…I ran…there were so many…oh my god, oh my god."

"Here we go again," I mumbled, hands on my hips.

Kneeling down in front of him I looked him over. He was in his early to mid-thirties with a scruffy, full beard and dark hair that fell into his eyes and covered his ears. His clothes were ripped, filthy and hanging off his tall frame. It was obvious he'd lost massive amounts of weight and recently. He was living on the road and having a hard time of it.

"What's your name?" When all he did was continue to stare at the walker mumbling incoherently I slapped him across the face. He squeezed his eyes closed briefly and when they reopened he looked slightly more lucid. "What's your name?"

"Caleb," he answered, his voice still shaky. "Caleb Subramanian."

"That's a mouthful," I chuckled and he swallowed hard, eyes darting back-and-forth between us. "I'm Alex. Robin Hood over there also goes by Daryl, but prefers Katniss." I could practically hear Daryl rolling his eyes and smothered a smile. "Think you can stand up?"

He nodded mutely, using the tree behind him. His legs visibly shook, eyes frantic taking in our handiwork. If he liked this he was going to _love_ when I cleared the fences.

"Did you…did you kill them all?"

"Yep." He swayed to the side and I reached out to steady him. "Easy."

Daryl frowned as he watched the man and I already knew what was coming.

"Ya been on yur own for a while?"

"Y-y-yes."

Daryl nodded, "How many walkers ya kill?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Answer, not many.

"Walkers?" he asked, confused. I pointed at the dead walker beside him and he shuttered. "Oh, uh, a few. I don't keep count. I mostly try to run and hide."

You don't say. I didn't need an internal lie detector to know that was the truth.

"How many people ya kill?"

I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely. His face went slack with horror, mouth dropping open as he sputtered like a fish out of water for a few seconds. He shook his head wildly before he was able to verbally answer which was unnecessary. We got the picture.

"None," he said, outraged. Daryl glanced at me and I nodded. Truth. "Who are you people?"

"Alex," I said pointing at myself then my husband, "Katniss."

"We got a community, somewhere safe. Yur welcome to come back with us if ya want," Daryl said blowing past my introductions like I never spoke.

He was better at this part. I could tell you if someone was lying or being truthful, if their intent was to harm or heal, if they posed a genuine threat to our way of life, but explaining our setup and making them feel comfortable walking away with a stranger, yeah, not my thing. I tended to just leave and they either followed or they didn't. Coaxing someone with kid gloves was a skill I had yet to develop.

"I'd like that." He looked equal parts relieved and wary.

"Fantastic," I said dryly, "Let's go Submarine."

"It's Subramanian," he corrected.

"What'd I say?"

"Submarine."

I pulled my rifle off my shoulders, scratching the side of my head. "Same thing."

"It's not actually…"

"Come on Submarine. All your screaming probably has every walker in earshot headed this way," I called over my shoulder. He sucked in a ragged breath practically sprinting to keep up.

If Daryl thought our progress was slow when it was me falling all over the place it was nothing compared to Submarine. The man had two left feet, moved with the urgency of a lobotomized sloth and had the stamina of an obese elephant with type 2 diabetes. At the rate we were going we'd be lucky to make it back to the prison before winter or ever.

"Can we…take a…break," he wheezed already plopping to the ground.

"Isn't that what we're already doing?" I asked Daryl who rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

I dropped my pack to the ground, digging out a few protein bars and a bottle of water. I tossed one of each to Submarine then handed the others to Daryl.

"Need to eat," he said, breaking the bar in half and offering it to me.

"Taste like dirt mixed with sawdust." I'd rather swallow my own spit.

"Guess I could rustle up a possum." I snatched the bar from his hand with a glare. Dirt and sawdust it was. He sat down beside me, our arms and legs touching. "Whatcha do b'fore the turn?"

I grimaced as I chewed on the dirty sawdust which unfortunately reminded me of Maggie's "cooking". Deciding it was best to just chew and swallow I broke the bar into manageable pieces I could easily wash down with our lukewarm water.

"I was a doctor," he muttered, "Am a doctor."

"Ha!" I pumped a fist in triumph. "Pay up Hillbilly Deluxe."

He scoffed, "Doctor ain't no scientist."

"Yes it is. That's about as sciencey as it gets."

"Hell no Red, ya ain't pullin' that shit on me."

"I'm not pulling anything," I huffed, "I won fair and square."

"Ya said scientist." He pointed at Submarine, "Man said he's a doctor."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to Legolas. I want my jerky."

He was giving it to me or I was likely to have a significant emotional event all up in his face.

"Want in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up first," he smiled.

"Don't steal my sayings. You have enough redneck jargon without dipping into my pond and you aren't getting off on a technicality."

"How long have you two been married?"

"What?" we said in unison, our heads snapping to Submarine.

Daryl's hand discreetly covered mine, stopping me from drawing my PPQ even as his hand curled around his crossbow. We hadn't said we were married, hadn't even said we were a couple. Neither of us spoke for fear of revealing more than we apparently already had, but his astute observation put us on edge all the same. Information was power and power was dangerous.

He raised his hands in surrender, "I'm sorry. I just assumed. The way you are together, it reminds me of myself and my wife." He trailed off, eyes distant.

"She gone?" Daryl questioned.

He nodded jerkily. "Yeah, a few years ago, cancer."

"Sorry," Daryl offered.

"Thank you," he sniffled, "Never thought I'd say it, but it's for the best. I'm glad she never lived to see this world."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. I relaxed, somewhat, even as I continued to watch his every move. Truth was it wasn't Submarine that bothered me. Pacey the Gate Guard could take this guy with one hand tied behind his back and that guy peed his pants whenever I entered his zip code. It was the realization of what Daryl and I had done, what we were to each other that unnerved me. He was my greatest strength and weakness all rolled into one. The mere thought of something befalling him was enough to steal the air from my lung. I couldn't let that happen. I _wouldn't_ , but we were tied together now, for better or worse and apparently there was no hiding it.

"A while." Daryl's voice brought me back to the conversation and it took enormous willpower to keep my face carefully blank even as Submarine frowned in confusion. "Asked how long we've been married."

Submarine nodded, a shaky smile on his tired face. Daryl's answer was deceptively casual, but you would have to be dead to miss the undercurrent of warning that screamed the subject wasn't up for further discussion. It was a blatant lie, but misinformation was a useful tool. I didn't know his reasons for allowing the doctor to believe we'd been married "a while" when, in fact, we'd hardly been married a day, but controlling the narrative was always better than falling victim to it. Plus, we were fake married for months so that had to count for something. Prisoners got credit for time served. A fake marriage was basically the same thing.

"That's what I figured."

My head swiveled to him so fast I would probably have whiplash tomorrow. This convo was all kinds of weird. My mind tried to work out his end game, his angle, but it was painfully obvious he didn't have one.

It was a constant battle reminding myself not everyone was a liar, a spy, or a thief. Not everyone was like me. My training demanded I snuff out hidden agendas that threatened our safety even when they didn't exist, like now. The entire exchange was making my head hurt and defensive nature flare so I stood up, brushing the sawdust crumbs from my mud spattered jeans.

"You ladies ready?"

Daryl smirked. Submarine groaned, but pulled himself to his feet. It was amazing he made it this far considering his current state. A measly protein bar and bottle of water was hardly enough, but the two of us traveled light when we were outside the wire. Not to mention I could have a honey ham stashed in my pack and it wouldn't even begin to touch the level of malnourishment plaguing him.

We were an hour from the prison if we really turned on the afterburners. I didn't think Submarine came equipped with afterburners so we were probably looking at three hours, assuming he didn't continue to fade. I walked in the lead with Daryl in the rear. The doctor tucked safely between us so we could protect him or kill him should the need arise. The longer we walked the harder he panted and I worried less about him trying to kill us and more about him dropping dead. We didn't speak. Mainly because Submarine could hardly convert oxygen to carbon dioxide and Daryl didn't do small talk. The doctor's labored breathing irritated my already frayed nerves as I guided us cautiously back to the prison. Was it too much to ask him to suffer in silence?

A half mile from the prison I held my hand up, a signal to stop, but Submarine kept on walking, right into my back. His sweaty body colliding with mine sent me stumbling forward into a nearby tree. I shot him a withering glare, Daryl's massive hands wrapping around his arm in part to steady him, but mainly so he could run interference should I fly off the handle

He opened his mouth to apologize, but I silenced him with a wave of my hand. How he heard the moans of the dead over his mouth breathing was one of life's great mysteries, but I knew the moment he did because his eyes got wide with fear. I sighed in annoyance, peering around the tree and quickly counting the walkers. Turning around I started taking off my pack, wordlessly handing it to Daryl whose hand was already waiting. My rifle was next and I gave him the same look I did every time I handed over my baby. Now it was his turn to sigh.

"How many?" Daryl asked, slinging my rifle over his shoulders and shoving my pack into Submarine's trembling arms.

"Five." I snatched two knives from my waist, checking their position once again before adding, "30 seconds."

He snorted, "Ain't no chance in hell Red."

One of these days he was gonna learn to stop underestimating me. Not today obviously, but someday.

"Wait, you're going to…" Submarine trailed off and I looked at Daryl, silently telling him to deal with it. He gave me a not so subtle shake of the head and stepped away from the wheezing doctor. "Why don't we go around them?" His voice was getting higher and progressively louder so I stepped forward, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "You said we were close. We can just run for it."

There were so many things wrong with that plan it was laughable. I choose to focus on the only one that really mattered.

"It's because we're so close that we can't leave them. They'll pick up our scent no matter how far we skirt them and follow us back to the prison."

We already had a daily pile up on the fences we struggled to contain. I refused to leave a trail for five more to follow. Why put off till tomorrow what you could kill today? Daryl nodded his head to the side and the two of us stepped away from the doctor who was so terrified he didn't even notice.

"I'll go," he offered, biting his thumbnail.

"I would literally rather shoot myself in the foot than babysit him."

"Why's it always gotta be you?"

He wasn't talking about now. He was talking about all the times I jumped off of buildings and faced off with the un-neighborly types. Why was I always putting myself at risk was the real question.

"Because it's what I do." Everyone had their calling. Some were good at leading, others healing, some kitting. I was good at killing. It was my version of knitting. "Besides its five walkers, that's easier than a porn star." He gave me a dull look. "Come on, that was funny."

"It wasn't funny and that ain't the point."

"It was too funny." His eyes flicked to mine, lips pressed into a thin line. "How about this, double or nothing?"

The easiest way to distract someone from something they didn't like was to dangle a bet whose payoff included jerky.

"You're on Dixon."

I grabbed his shirt, pulling him to me and brushing a chaste kiss against his lips. "Get my jerky ready, _Dixon_."

He smirked at the mention of his, now our, last name and my heart fluttered. I had a feeling that would never get old. I let go of his shirt, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles as an excuse to feel him up. He sighed, but made no move to stop me until my hands drifted to the back of his jeans. He swatted my hands away and I smothered a laugh.

"Killjoy."

"Crazy."

"Prude."

"Slut."

I put a finger in his face, "You love that one."

"Get on with it will ya," he chided, the corners of his lips turning up in a barely there smile. "He ain't gonna stay upright much longer."

"You better not cheat on the 1-Mississippi's this time." He glared at me as Submarine looked between us like we were nuts. "Thirty seconds or less. Time starts when I throw the first knife."

It was a good thing Rick wasn't there. He didn't approve of our game. He argued it was dangerous. I argued he had a giant stick up his ass. So far we had yet to reach an accord.

"Uh huh." He didn't sound the least bit worried for his jerky. That was a mistake. "Keep it quiet," he added.

"Really? Kill the walkers with as little noise as possible? Thanks honey, that's great advice. What would I do without you?"

He ignored my sarcastic rant, mumbling under his breath something I didn't catch and that was probably a good thing. Turning around I made my way towards the walkers, crouching down and using the brush as cover. The five of them stood motionless in a semi-circle grunting and snarling like they were awaiting stimulus. Their figures were gaunt, starving, bodies heavily decayed. The smell alone was enough knock me on my ass and I pulled at the fabric around my neck using my face shield to cover my mouth and nose. It didn't help all that much with the smell, but at least it would keep their cooties off me when I killed them.

Once I moved from behind the bushes the two furthest from me would see me immediately so I would need to be quick. My eyes scanned the group, assessing the angles, looking for the best approach and calculating risks in a matter of seconds. I grinned, a maniacal plan forming in my head. Oh man, he was gonna be so pissed. I could practically taste the jerky. I jumped up from behind the bushes, sprinting at the walkers in a flurry of control aggression.

Without breaking stride I threw the knife in my left hand, my eyes immediately finding my second target as I threw the knife in my right. The blades collided with the walker's skulls one right after the other, the two of them dropping to the ground without so much as a grunt. I drew another knife, throwing it at the one in the center, the knife impaling her in the back of the skull. I reached forward grabbing a handful of greasy hair as she collapsed, straining to keep her upper body semi-upright and thanking my lucky stars she was petite. I was bigger than this in Kindergarten.

The remaining two walkers growled and I yanked the dead walker's head sharply to the right, drawing my PPQ with my left hand. The dead walkers body shifted and I eyed the two remaining walkers. I pressed the barrel of my PPQ against the walker's shoulder, squinting as I adjusted the weapon to line up the shot before squeezing the trigger. The walker's body acted as a silencer suppressing the sound of the gunshot. The bullet slammed into the walker's head, a mist of blood and brain matter exploding into the air like seeds from a dandelion scattering in the wind, only way nastier.

I pulled on the walker's hair again, readjusting her body while simultaneously moving the barrel of my gun to her right shoulder and firing again. The impact of the bullet snapped the walker's head back with a sickening crunch. Neck bones and vertebrae were crushed when his head wiped back violently, a bullet hole where his left eye was only seconds ago. I let go of the walker's hair and she dropped to my feet.

"Time!" I yelled spinning around.

Daryl looked thoroughly annoyed and I smiled. That boded well for me.

"Twenty three seconds," he replied with a scowl.

"Yes!"

I threw my arms above my head, a victorious smile on my face as I did a Dab to cement the win.

And just like that Submarine's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted at Daryl's feet.

* * *

 **So there is a big time jump between seasons 3 and 4 where a lot happens (people are brought in, the prison is upgraded, the council is formed, etc.) and we don't get to see any of it happen. The next few chapters will fill in some of those blanks. I like seeing how things changed and then coming up with plot lines around how that might have happened. It's fun to write because anything is possible and I have some great things planned or at least I think they're pretty great :)**

 **Hope you guys are excited to see how our favorite people spent the months between defeating The Governor and settling into prison life.**


	37. This Little Piggy

**This Little Piggy**

"Did you know she was teachin' 'em that stuff?" Daryl asked as we made our way outside.

I shrugged, distracted, focusing all my attention on my granola bar wrapper. I swear you needed a degree in aeronautical engineering to get them open.

"Gimme that."

He snatched the bar away from me, deftly opening the packaging and handing it back. I grinned in return, shoving half the bar in my mouth.

"Thanks," I replied around a mouth full of granola. He rolled his eyes, hoisting the crossbow strap higher on his shoulder, looking at me expectantly. "Did I know who was teaching what?"

With my mouth full it sounded more like _"did I owe ooh was eaching wat_?"

I was stalling. There was no way to answer that question without someone screaming at me.

"Red," he warned.

I swallowed my granola, washing it down with a swig of water.

"Don't Red me." He looked ready to strangle me. "I can neither confirm nor deny that Carol is using story time to teach survival skills."

Carol was my friend, but Daryl was my husband and I would take her wrath over his any day of the week. Daryl PMS'ed with the best of them.

He stopped, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one. He inhaled deep, eyeing me hard while I fought the urge to squirm under his critical gaze. This was completely unfair. I was neither a council member nor the one teaching toddlers how to slit someone's throat. If he had a problem with his BFF's methods take it up with her.

"Rick ain't gonna like it," he finally said.

I snorted, "Rick's not on the council."

In reality that made little difference. While the official transition of power was complete the council still considered Rick's viewpoints, opinions, and reactions at every turn. Old habits die hard and the majority of the council was made up of the core group who'd survived under his leadership since the beginning. In fact, the only outsider was Sasha. Daryl didn't look convinced my answer was a good one, and I sighed. He was so high maintenance sometimes.

"Don't tell him. Wait until the timing's right," I suggested and he cocked his head to the side considering my advice.

"When would that be?"

"That's what deathbeds are for Katniss." Problem solved.

"That dog won't hunt," he frowned.

Dogs? Hunting? I thought we were talking about lying to Rick? He ignored my confusion so I ignored his redneck.

"They may be kids, but they have to learn some time."

As much as I wanted to believe otherwise our little bubble of protection could burst at any moment. Although I disagreed with the subterfuge Carol's intent was sound. Everyone needed to be able to fend for themselves outside the fences.

"I guess," he conceded.

I understood his reservations. Every time someone showed the children a new way to kill the dead, or the living, a tiny piece of their innocence was stolen away before its time, but it was a small price to pay for saving their lives. The world didn't suffer the unprepared.

"Ya seen Merle?"

"Hot damn, yur going too Samurai?!"

"Never mind."

The two of us shared a knowing look as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it before we walked to the waiting cars. Merle was grinning hard at Deadpool who stared through him like he wasn't standing two feet in front of her. Her Zen was on point.

The elder redneck was still navigating his precarious position at the prison. Half the people wanted to kill him and the other half were terrified of him. The man had the personality of a racist hyena so making amends to the people he slighted (tried to kill) was more than a 12 step program. It was more like 112.

"At least he stopped calling her his Nubian Queen," I whispered to Daryl and he smirked.

That right there was proof he was trying. Either that or he believed her threat to cut off his balls and shove them down his throat while he slept.

Today we were hitting up some ranch land west of the prison in the hopes of securing sustainable food sources. The construction efforts for the garden, pens, stables and various other structures were either well underway or almost finished. The once sterile prison was slowly but surely becoming a community. One of the former Woodbury residents had even rigged up a shower system that provided very limited amounts of hot water and another found a way to route electricity into the cellblock. We even had a covered pavilion next to the basketball court complete with a cooktop. It was downright homey. If you ignored the barbed wire and walkers lining the fence.

"Stick to the backroads that run parallel to 34," Hershel explained, pointing to the map laid out on the hood of the car. The man took to the role as the council leader like a fish to water. "There's nothing but ranch land passed Wahoo Creek. That'll be our best bet for grains and livestock."

I looked over his shoulder, memorizing the terrain, finding our best approach, identifying possible escape routes and potential danger areas for both walkers and the living. The distance from the prison to our destination meant we were on our own if things went sideways. The area was so spread-out we needed seven people and two vehicles to scout it thoroughly. We hadn't attempted a run with this many people previously, but if we were serious about making this prison a permanent home it had to be done sometime and sometime turned out to be today.

Sasha stepped forward, "Tyreese you're we me and Michonne. Daryl you take Glenn, Alex and Merle."

"Wait!" My head snapped to the side as a boy skidded to a halt in front of the group. "Can I come?"

He was in his early twenties and if I remembered correctly was part of a college ensemble Daryl and Merle found on their last hunting trip. His sandy blonde hair was tussled in that stylish way kids wore it these days pretending the look was natural, but in reality it took 10 minutes in front of a mirror. He had a lop-sided smile on his face that made me wonder how someone so carefree survived five minutes much less over a year. I didn't think I'd _ever_ been that laid back. I'd seen him around the prison on occasion, always smiling, laughing, joking and I was almost positive he was dating Beth. Whatever the hell that meant.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sasha started.

The tiny, wisp of a woman was a surprise addition to the council, but Hershel's desire to even the playing field by included a newcomer made sense from a practical standpoint. Our group was far outnumbered by the refugees and if we wanted them to adhere to the council's guidance we stood a better chance if one of their own was on it. So far my limited interactions with the woman found her to be level headed and fair in the decision making process, but like all the other newcomers I had yet to speak any meaningful words to her.

"I can help," he insisted, "I _want_ to help."

His eagerness betrayed a boy trying entirely too hard to prove himself a man. He was too excited about the run to be taking the risks seriously. He was eager to prove himself, but for _what_ or to _who_ I had no idea. This wasn't a game. You didn't get points for bravery, only death and a shallow grave. Daryl chanced a look at me and by his face I could tell he was thinking the same thing. Sasha blew out a harsh breath, motioning for Daryl to follow her. Hershel joined them a short distance away, heads bent as they discussed the pros and cons of his request.

"He ain't gonna make it two minutes," Merle mumbled at my side, adjusting the knife strapped to the end of his stub.

Maybe, maybe not, but like I told Daryl earlier everyone had to learn.

Sighing I pulled a roll of duct tape out of my pack. "Give it here."

"I got it."

"The knife is about as limp as your dick," I challenged, "Hold still."

"Always thinkin' 'bout my dick Firecracker," he taunted.

I rolled the tape around his stump, securing the wobbly knife.

"I'm worried you're going to go blind if you keep eating Viagra like Skittles." I tore the end of the tape and smoothed it down around the metal fitting. "Remember to seek help if you have an erection lasting longer than four hours."

He yanked his stub away. "I told ya, that's Tylenol!"

"Uh huh."

He rounded on me, pointing his now secured knife stub in my face, but before he could unleash any hillbilly insults we were interrupted which was disappointing. Winding Merle up was one of my favorite pastimes.

"Excuse me." We both faced the college kid. "Mr. Dixon…Merle…I'm Zach."

I raised my eyebrows at the kid, doesn't bat an eyelash at the prospect of leaving the prison, but nearly wets his pants talking to Merle. Maybe the kid had some survival instincts after all.

"What the hell ya want?" Merle barked and I elbowed him in the ribs. He pursed his lips, but kept his mouth shut.

"I wanted to, ah, say…thank you," he stuttered, sweat beading around his forehead that had nothing to do with the heat. "You and your brother saved us and we never properly thanked you."

The kid held his hand out, his face in worship mode. Merle stood there paralyzed, eyes locked on his outstretched hand like he was offering him a venomous snake and not a friendly handshake. No wonder his attempts at reconciling with our group were going so poorly. His people skills were worse than Daryl's and I once saw him punch someone for tripping over the crossbow he left sitting in the middle of the hall.

"You're welcome," I said, coming to the rescue.

My words broke through my brother-in-laws bewilderment as he awkwardly and uncomfortably accepted the boys praise with a gruff handshake. Zach beamed, giving us both a nod as he walked back to the cars to await the council's decision.

"That was spectacularly awful."

"Shut up," Merle hissed and I laughed, slapping him on the back.

The trio came back, and I could already see the writing on the wall. Happy Go Lucky was coming with us.

"Zach," Sasha said to the boy, "You're with us, but you do everything we say. Got it?"

"Sure, sure."

He smiled bright, the sun reflecting off his bleach white teeth so intensely I almost went blind. He practically skipped to the car before climbing in, talking Deadpool's ear off. She glanced over her shoulder, silently begging me to switch cars. I grinned and gave her a slight shake of my head, laughing out loud when she climbed into the car and slammed the door shut with enough force to bend the frame.

I climbed into the backseat of the truck with Daryl as Glenn got behind the wheel, Merle riding shotgun. The prison hadn't even faded in the rearview mirror before the thick silence in the truck felt like it was choking me. I fidgeted in my seat and I could see Daryl biting his thumb out of the corner of my eye. Clearly he felt it too. The front seat occupants on the other hand sat ramrod straight with their eyes focused straight ahead. It didn't look like either was breathing.

Merle had been tasked to"make things right" with Glenn and Maggie following their incarceration at the hands of The Governor. Tasked meaning both Daryl and I cornered and threatened him if he didn't. Well, I threatened. Daryl stood there and scowled with seething disapproval at his older brother. Based on the tension pulsating through the small truck he'd yet to do so. It could be a good thing or a bad thing the two were trapped in the car for the foreseeable future.

I leaned forward, ignoring Daryl's warning look as I reached between the seat and the door, grabbing Merle's arm and pinching hard. He yelped, jumping in his seat and turning to glare at me. Glenn studiously pretended not to notice the exchange, devoting laser-like focus to driving in an effort to avoid acknowledging the man sitting next to him for as long as possible. I pointed at Glenn, my lips pulled thin when Merle shook his head no.

No? No? I wasn't asking and this wasn't up for debate.

I pointed again, silently threatening him, Daryl covering his ensuing smile with a hand. My Vulcan mind meld with Merle wasn't as strong as it was with his brother, but it was enough we could argue with relative ease.

" _Do it," I demanded._

" _No fuckin' way."_

" _Do it or I'm telling everyone you're addicted to Viagra."_

 _His mouth dropped open, "Ya wouldn't dare!"_

" _Try me."_

" _It's Tylenol," he insisted._

" _I'm going to count to three."_

" _Stay outta it!"_

" _One."_

 _He scoffed, "I ain't some kid ya can…"_

" _Two."_

" _Alex, I ain't playin'…_

" _Two and a half."_

" _Fine!"_

I gestured to Glenn before leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest. Merle turned around in his seat, uncomfortably stealing glances at the driver who refused to acknowledge his existence much less his desire to apologize. I felt Daryl's eyes on me and looked at him, his eyebrows raised in question. I gave him a reassuring nod, holding up my finger to indicate he should wait and everything would be fine, most likely.

"Uh, listen Chinaman…" My mouth dropped open. Daryl groaned. The car swerved violently. What in the holy hell? "I mean Glenn," he corrected, shifting in his seat. Glenn's grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles were white. "We should talk."

"No we shouldn't," he ground out, gaze never straying from the road. I swallowed hard, moving to the left slightly so I could jump in-between the two if necessary.

Merle cleared his throat, "I know…I know I've done wrong by you and yours."

His voice broke a little at the end, and my heart ached for both my friend and brother-in-law. Like Daryl I desperately wanted them to mend fences, but sometimes there was simply too much damage. A hand wrapped around mine, squeezing gently and I interlaced my fingers with Daryl's. I knew Glenn's reservoir for forgiveness was essentially bottomless, but only when it pertained to himself. The fact Maggie had been terrorized was his sole point of contention. He could get passed his own hurt. It was hers he couldn't bear.

"Whoever sheds the blood of man," Merle whispered, "By man shall his blood be shed."

The silence in the truck was so loud it was deafening. I wasn't religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I knew a Bible verse when I heard one.

"For God made man in his own image," Glenn finished. My head bobbed back-and-forth between the men, waiting quiet literally on the edge of my seat. Glenn's tone gave no indication of his intentions. "You think quoting a Bible verse makes up for what you did?"

"No, I don't." Merle kept his head turned away. "Ain't nothin' I can do or say to make it right with ya or yur girl. Can't unring a bell." Wasn't that the truth. "I just want ya to know I ain't that man no more." He swallowed hard, rubbing his chin with his flesh hand. "Or at least I'm tryin' not to be."

I was squeezing Daryl's hand so tight I was likely to break bone as I held my breath in anticipation. This was both heartbreaking and inspiring. Like the most fucked up social experiment of all time.

 **Question:** Were there limits to the human capacity for forgiveness?

 **Hypothesis:** The ability to forgive was not directly linked to how badly they beat the shit out of you, but rather how badly they traumatized your loved ones.

Before the end of the world my answer to that question would have been unequivocally yes, there were limits to forgiveness. Now, I wasn't so sure. Forgiveness was a tricky beast, and if I learned anything in the last few months it was that it didn't conform to expectations. I'd forgiven Daryl's abandonment. Rick had forgiven Carl's murder. Tyrese and Sasha had forgiven Rick's banishment. Forgiveness it seemed was found in the most unlikely of places, but it varied from person to person. Sometimes the forgivable to one person was categorically unforgivable to another. Our ability to forgive Merle held no weight on Glenn and Maggie's.

"It's not what you did to me I can't get passed," Glenn said, his breathing heavy. "What they did to Maggie…" he trailed off, shaking his head as if to shake the memory.

"I know it don't mean nothin', but I didn't know 'bout that," Merle stated somberly. "I'm a lotta things, but I ain't no rapist. If I knew what he was doin' to her I would'va done what I could to stop it."

He was telling the truth. I didn't need my internal lie detector to see the honesty of his declaration.

"You knew what kind of man he was," Glenn accused, "And you still took us there."

Merle was quiet as he absorbed Glenn's contempt. It was clear he needed to feel the hate behind his words as punishment for his time with The Governor. He was locked in a prison of his own making and until he believed he was worthy of being released he never would.

"Yeah," he finally agreed. "I took y'all knowin' he might kill ya. Hell, I shot Alex b'fore that jackass ever laid a hand on y'all."

My arm tingled at the mention of the gunshot wound, phantom pains. Daryl shifted beside me, his face murderous as he glared at the back of his brother's head. I brought our joined hands to my lips, kissing the back of his hand and giving him a small smile. His shoulders relaxed marginally and we returned our attention to the real issue. Yes, Merle shot me, but I also shot him so I considered the matter settled.

"I was as mad as a cat on a hot tin roof after Atlanta." My eyebrows scrunched in confusion and I looked to Daryl who sighed, silently promising to translate later. "I was hurt, hell almost dead when The Governor found me. It ain't no excuse, but I did what I did to survive." I bowed my head. We'd all done despicable things in the name of survival. "Ain't a day that goes by that I don't ask forgiveness for my sins. I understand if ya can't give it to me, but I ain't gonna stop tryin' to make it right. I won't never hurt no one in the prison again. I swear it. I'll protect 'em with my life if I have to."

He already had. When he went off Mission Impossible style and tried to single-handedly take out The Governor he did it to stop a war. He was trying to protect us. It was stupid, reckless, ill-advised and had zero chance of success, but it was the thought that counted.

When Glenn didn't respond my shoulders sagged. If that speech didn't do the trick nothing would. That was about as genuine and heartfelt as Merle had ever been, but it seemed the damage was too extensive. Darryl tugged me closer, my head falling on his shoulder as I snuggled against his side. My heart ached for Merle's rejection, but I understood Glenn's reasoning. If someone hurt Daryl the only thing left to forgive would be their cold, decapitated corpse.

Between Daryl's intoxicating scent, warm body and the hum of the truck the weight of my eyelids was too much to overcome. I yawned, adjusted my body and settling in for a cat nap, Daryl's arm going around me.

"I forgive you," Glenn stated, voice firm.

I froze next to Daryl, not daring to move for fear of disrupting "the moment". Daryl held me tight and I felt his body vibrating with anticipation. This meant more to him than anyone. He loved our group, loved Glenn, but he also loved his brother. Having to choose between them was something he was incapable of doing.

"I'll talk to Maggie when we get back. I don't want you near her yet. Just…give her time."

I buried my smile in Daryl's shirt listening to Merle give his word he would keep his distance from the eldest Greene daughter. The silence in the car as I drifted off to sleep was free from the hostility that preceded it, and I figured no matter how this run turned out it was already a roaring success.

Famous last words.

"Red." Someone was shaking me and I swatted their hand away, trying to get comfortable again, but my pillow kept moving. "Red!"

I sat up abruptly at the shout, eyes wild, a knife in my left hand, eyes darting around looking for danger. I took a deep breath when I found nothing, but three sets of eyes staring back at me.

"What?"

"We're here," Glenn stated.

I looked out the window and saw we were stopped on the side of the road. Everyone else was already out of the car getting ready.

"Hair's lookin' a little crazy Firecracker," Merle commented matter-of-factly before stepping out of the truck.

My hands flew to my hair and I grimaced when I felt the tendrils going in every direction. Putting my knife away I hastily pulled out the hair tie, my thick mane of red hair spilling down my back. As quick as I could I gathered it up, pilling it on top of my head in a messy bun and securing it with 20 hair ties just to be on the safe side.

"Still got some drool on the side of yur mouth," Daryl pointed out.

"I don't drool."

"Tell that to my shirt." He pointed at a wet spot on his shoulder with a smile I didn't return.

"Whatever."

We joined the rest of the group and proceeded towards the set of ranches Hershel marked on the map. The nostalgia of the farmland hit me instantly. The old, white farmhouse, the fence surrounding the property, the rusty windmill, it was just like the Greene farm. And just like the Greene farm the ranch appeared untouched by the turn, at least from a distance. There were multiple structures on the property besides the main house, a barn, a workshop, and stables. It was almost guaranteed we would run into walkers somewhere. There was simply no way this place hadn't been ravaged by the dead after all this time. On the edge of the property Daryl held up a hand stopping the group.

"Alright, we're going to split up," Sasha instructed, "Tyreese and I will take the barn and workshop. Daryl, you take Merle and Zach, check out the main house. Michonne, Glenn and Alex, see if you can find any livestock or crops over there."

I dug a piece of paper out of my jeans, handing it to Daryl. "List of stuff Submarine asked us to look for."

He nodded, tucking the paper in his pocket. Everyone moved out, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I looked at Daryl, eyebrows raised in question.

"Ya know a crop from a weed?"

No, I didn't. I was counting on Glenn and Deadpool. I'd zoned out during Hershel slow and excruciatingly detailed lecture on the ins-and-outs of crop identification. When he moved on to the livestock portion of his sermon I started fantasizing about Daryl naked. Thank god there wasn't a test at the end. The only question I would've gotten right was what sexual position I wanted to try tonight.

"You know your ass from a hole in the wall?" He smirked at my non-answer and I bristled in irritation. He always saw right through me. "Just focus on your job and I'll focus on mine Katniss." I glanced over my shoulder at Merle who looked about ready to strangle poor Happy Go Lucky. "Better hurry up."

He sighed, watching Merle bark something at the boy that had him paling considerably.

"Good luck Red."

"I don't need luck. You need luck. You're the one clearing the house with a rookie. I'm looking for plants and animals."

I wasn't really worried about him. He may have a beginner on his team, but he had his brother and between the two of them I was fairly confident they could eradicate the Zombie problem in the great state of Georgia given enough time and arrows.

He shrugged, "Ain't worried 'bout it." Of course he wasn't, but he should be, for Zach's sake. I had socks older than that kid. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful," I insisted. He stared back at me blankly. "OK, I'm careful most of the time." Nothing. "Fine, I'll be careful _this_ time."

He threw me his signature sexy smirk that almost made me forget he was doubted my cowboy skills. I lived part of my life on a ranch for heaven's sake. Would it kill the guy to have a little faith? Turning on my heel I caught up with Deadpool and Glenn. I'd show him. I was gonna go full John Wayne via True Grit up in this bitch.

"Why the murder face?" Deadpool asked casually.

I groaned, "I don't have a murder face." She raised her eyebrows, looking to Glenn for confirmation who nodded in agreement. "Oh my god."

"Daryl worried you weren't paying attention in Hershel's class?" Glenn asked innocently.

"Stop talking." Deadpool laughed and I picked up the pace. "And for the record I _was_ listening."

"Is that what those sex doodles were? Notes?" I shot her the finger, my face heating up from embarrassment. "I particularly liked the one where you were doing a backbend, but I'm not sure how practical that is."

"That wasn't me, it was him," I clarified absently. "And he wasn't doing a backbend he was hanging off the edge of the bed with his head and shoulders on the floor. I was the one straddling him."

"Oh I see." Her face had a wistful, satisfied look. "That's a good one."

The two of us shared a knowing smile, lamenting the physics of it all as I described the best way to ensure he didn't fall completely off the bed when employing that particular maneuver, but was forced to stop when Glenn tripped and fell.

"You OK?" I asked, backtracking to help him to his feet.

His face was beet red, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. He looked like he just suffered a stroke.

"Did you just say he was hanging off the bed…with you…straddling him?"

I glanced at Deadpool who shrugged. "Yeah."

"That's a real thing?" I couldn't tell if he was shocked or intrigued. I nodded and he scoffed. "You're lying."

"I'm really not." I wouldn't lie about something like that.

"What's it called?" he challenged, still disbelieving.

"The waterfall," we said in unison.

I held my fist out and she bumped it with her own while we laughed at Glenn. His ears were turning an endearing shade of red that was adorable. We laughed the rest of the way to the pens, but Glenn was quiet and I got the impression he was trying to work out the semantics in his head. Either that or he was trying to figure out how to connive Maggie to try it. I wouldn't recommend that course of action. The waterfall was an advanced move and should only be done under the close, personal supervision of an individual with prior experience.

The cries from the pen directly in front of us pulled my attention away from sex. It couldn't be and yet it very clearly was which was incredible. As we got closer to the chain link fence held together by huge, solid wood beams cemented into the ground my mouth dropped open in shock, our walk quickly turning into a jog. We hastily scanned and cleared the area and when we found no walkers turned our full attention to the pen. I smiled at the four adorable piglets squealing inside the muddy enclosure. I walked forward, hands resting on the wooden edge of the fence, peering down at them.

"How?" Deadpool pondered.

"The fence," I marveled. "It's solid as a rock and too high." I had to step on the bottom wood plank just to get a good look inside. It was the perfect protection from walkers although I was sure it wasn't built with that in mind. "Looks like they dumped a truckload of food in at a time to avoid having to venture this far from the house on a regular basis."

"So someone was alive not too long ago?"

The sound of a gunshot drew our attention to the farmhouse. It was followed closely by four more. Apparently we wouldn't need to ask the former residents of the ranch the infamous three questions.

"How do we get them back?" Glenn asked, scratching his head as he adjusted his baseball cap.

"There are crates in the corner."

We followed Deadpool's outstretched arm to the right corner where two metal crates sat untouched. Two of the four piglets were huddled inside a metal house on the opposite side of the pen, staring at us with big, questioning eyes. The other two were squealing like mad, running around in the mud and slop with no destination in mind, excited by the company. I even saw one jump for joy. They were without a doubt the cutest things I'd ever seen, Nugget notwithstanding.

"I so want one," I commented, making my way to the entrance.

"They aren't pets." Glenn, always so level-headed and boring. "They're food."

We'd see about that. I was getting at least one of them off death row as soon as we got back to the prison. The president used to pardon a turkey at Thanksgiving. Same concept.

The three of us entered the pen sending all four piglets into a frenzy that made them squeal, run around, and squeal some more. We spread out across the length of the pen, the four piglets eyeing us with interest from the opposite side.

"Now what?"

I glanced at Deadpool. "How the hell should I know? I was drawing sex pictures during the _How to Corral Piglet_ portion of the lecture."

"I don't like how that one's looking at me," Glenn said, pointing at the runt of the litter.

"Kevin won't hurt you." Both their heads turned to me slowly. "What?"

"You named them?" she asked.

"Only that one," I said pointing to the one shooting daggers at Glenn. "And that one. And the one on the far left."

"We've been here five minutes." I shrugged. I was efficient. "Well, what are their names?"

"You already met Kevin." I smiled at him and he squealed back. He was awesome. "That one's Bacon." I pointed to the one in the middle. "And that one's Jimmy Dean." I pointed to the one on the far left.

"Kevin, Bacon and Jimmy Dean," Glenn repeated in a monotone voice.

"Yeah." I cracked myself up.

"What about the last one?" she questioned.

This was officially the weirdest conversation we'd ever had and that was saying something.

"I didn't want to overstep." It wasn't right for me to have all the fun. "You wanna name him?"

"No," the answered together.

"You guys are no fun."

I spread my arms wide, taking a slow step forward.

"How do you know they're all guys?" Glenn questioned.

"Uh." I didn't, but I wasn't about to do a gender check either. "Come on, let's get this show on the road."

They mirrored my movements, the three of us making our way down the long, rectangular enclosure towards the four scared piglets. The closer we got the more agitated they became.

"What exactly are we doing?" Glenn asked just as Kevin hissed at him.

"We're going to corner them, pick them up, and put them in the crates." Duh.

"That easy?" Deadpool doubted.

"If Rocky can do it with chickens we can do it with piglets. Pigs are _way_ slower than chickens," I reassured them, taking another measured step forward, frowning when the animals started to spread out.

Was it just me or did that look like an attack formation?

"Rocky sucked at it."

Glenn jumped back when Kevin squealed, pounding his tiny hoof into the mud like he was preparing to charge.

"I think you were right about Kevin," I told him, "He doesn't like you."

All at once the piglets went still and silent. It was creepy as fuck. The four of them stared at us with their beady, little eyes and we froze in response. It was pathetic. We could face down a herd of walkers no problem, but four piglets the size of miniature schnauzer's had us shitting our pants.

The bit-sized animals were eerily motionless so we stayed rooted in place, waiting for them to make the first move. They had us outnumbered, but we had them contained. We could totally do this. We just needed to play a zone defense and then it was only a matter of time before we wore them down.

As if sensing my thoughts they hunched down low to the ground and I hesitated, but before I could process what was happening they charged. It was like someone rang an invisible bell. One minute they were huddled against the far side of the fence and the next Bacon let loose a shrieking piglet war cry and they charged, Kevin leading the pack.

"Glenn, grab Kevin!" I yelled, reaching for Jimmy Dean.

He snorted, half jumping as he ran by me. His body was slick from mud and my hands slipped down his back, unable to gain purchase on the unwieldy creature.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed, trying to track his movement, but he was a tiny, pink blur. "Deadpool get Bacon!"

It was all downhill from there.

The three of us darted around the pen, chasing the piglets that were far more maneuverable than anything with such a rotund form had a right to be. Only a few minutes into the fray and I was amending my previous statement. Piglets were fast as hell. Screw chickens. It was entirely possible they possessed some kind of magical powers that enabled this kind of speed and agility. One second they were there for the taking and the next you were grabbing nothing but muddy air.

Glenn muttered a curse reaching for Kevin only to lose his footing, hitting the mud with a splat that sounded painful. He screamed in terror, crab walking backwards as the piglet stalked towards him with a menacing look that scared the absolute crap out of me. God speed Glenn.

I had Jimmy Dean cornered and smirked at the piglet, approaching slowly, ready to show him who was boss, but he moved like The Flash, streaking between my legs with a high-pitched screech. Startled again by his quickness I stood up, pivoting around much too fast on the muddy ground, my feet going one way as my body went the other. I fell onto my hands and knees, sinking down into the mud a few inches. I kept my mouth closed, trying to keep the bacteria ridden slop out of it.

It took me a few pulls to dislodge my hands from the thick, viscous mud and I seethed when a hail of mud sprinkles splashed across my upper body. When I opened my eyes I blanched in horror. Jimmy Dean had completed his turn and was coming at me head on like a miniature, raging rhino. I yelped, diving to the side and rolling to avoid the hurricane of evil as he sailed by with a snarl. I grimaced when mud slowly seeped into my boots, down the front of my tank top, and yes, in my pants.

As it turned out Jimmy Dean was the boss.

A strangled cry sounded to my left and I turned just in time to see Deadpool on her knees fumbling to keep a hold on Bacon who was wiggling and twisting with a flurry in her hands. The awful sound of his distressed howls made me cover my ears for fear my eardrums might rupture. Hearing their brother's cry for help the three others converged on her unawares, forming a piglet phalanx that was charging straight at her.

I tried to yell out a warning, but my lips were momentarily sealed shut by the mud. They rammed her from behind sending her sprawling forward, forcing her to release Bacon so she could brace her arms for the fall, but it was all in vain. Her momentum carried her forward too fast to recover as she pitched forward, face planting in the mud with a plop. The pigs squealed in victory, their newly freed brother jumping around. To add insult to what could possibly be very serious injury Bacon dug his back hoofs into the mud, repeatedly kicking the sloppy substance against the side of her head.

I sat back on my heels, my weight causing me to sink into the mud like quicksand, but at this point who fucking cared. I tried to find a portion of my body, my clothing, my soul, anything, not covered in mud to wipe my face, but I couldn't see well enough. The mud caked on my eyelashes was causing them to stick together to the point blinking was becoming increasingly difficult and painful. My hands were fused together forming two muddy clubs that put Merle's nub to shame.

Glenn groaned beside me, giving up the pretense of staying clean, lying down flat on his back with his arms and legs spread wide, covered head-to-toe in mud and defeat.

Not one to surrender so easily Deadpool struggled to her feet, slipping four or five times in the process before abandoning that approach and digging her hands into the mud and pushing, sliding on her belly towards the fence. She reminded me of a penguin sliding across the ice except with a fraction of the grace. When she was close enough she curled her fingers around the chain-link and pulled herself into a semi-upright position.

The three of us glared at the piglets on the other side of the pen dancing in victory. Fucking terrorists. I was _soooo_ not pardoning them now. I spit mud out of my mouth, letting my club hands drop to my side as I cursed the demonic animals. Go find farm animals they said. It will be fun they said.

A chunk of sludge got stuck on the tip of my tongue and I drug it against my teeth in an effort to dislodge it, but instead I inadvertently swallowed it. Here's to hoping Hershel's antibiotic stash wasn't running low.

"What the fuck?"

Daryl's voice drew my attention to the far side of the enclosure where everyone from the group stood displaying varying degrees of shock and amusement. My vision was severely impaired, but I was pretty sure Sasha, Zach and Tyreese were the shocked ones and the Dixon brother's the amused ones. The assholes.

"Hey babe," I exclaimed, holding up a surprisingly heavy muddy paw, hocking another lung full of mud onto the ground. "We found piglets."

"I see that."

My husband at least had the decency or good sense to _try_ and contain his amusement. I may be suction cupped to the ground at this particular moment, but I'd be free eventually and I was much faster than he could ever hope to be. My brother-in-law had neither the incentive nor the willpower to reign in his amusement. His arms were braced on the fence, face so red from laughing it looked like it might spontaneously explode.

"Slippery little bastards," I admitted and Daryl nodded with a smirk, handing Tyreese his crossbow.

He opened the gate, walking on the slushy mud like he was walking on air, the sure-footed bastard. He paused in front of me with his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side trying to find somewhere to touch me not covered in funk. Good luck. There was mud slipping down the crack of my ass so that was officially a lost cause.

With a heavy exhale he leaned down, grasping both my shoulders firmly and pulling. The mud was reluctant to release me as he strained against its hold, his arms bulging briefly before a loud _pop_ signaled my freedom. He kept both hands on me while he guided my blind, uncoordinated ass out of the Pits of Hell otherwise known as the piglet pen.

Merle was somehow able to stop laughing long enough to offer Glenn a helping hand which he begrudgingly accepted because it was that or die here. Once Merle got him on two feet he held onto the side of the enclosure like someone ice skating for the first time, taking a hesitant step, adjusting his hold on the fence then taking another. At the rate he was moving he'd be out of the pen sometime in 2020.

Deadpool didn't wait for help. She clawed her way up the fence one humiliating rung at a time. When she reached the top her mud coated ass teetered there for a beat like a jacked up seesaw. We all held our collectives breath waiting to see which way she'd fall. Not bothering with finesse or chancing a fall back into the mud she threw herself over, landing on the ground with a wet splatter. She didn't move again.

Daryl led me out of the pen, hands never leaving me as I waved my mud coated arms around like the blind asshole I apparently was, but they got too heavy and it was too much work so I let them drop to my side with sigh. When I was back on solid ground he let go, sighing dramatically standing in front of me.

"Ya a'right?"

I snorted than grimaced when mud shot up my nostrils going straight to my brain.

"I don't know how to answer that question."

"Wait here."

If it wouldn't have caused more mud to saturate my already damaged corneas I would have rolled my eyes. A pack of wild dogs couldn't drag me back into that pen. Exhausted for reasons I didn't understand given the fact we were dealing with four measly piglets I sank to the ground to watch the festivities.

Merle and Daryl were in the pen, talking quickly as they eyed the devil farm animals. There were three of us and six hands and look how that turned out. There were two of them and they only three hands between them. This would be epic. I had no idea why they weren't employing the others, but the brothers seemed confident in their skills. You know what they said, pride cometh before you tried to corral evil piglets or some shit.

Twenty minutes later all the piglets were in the crates and loaded in the back of the truck. If it was a contest, which it wasn't, I believe it would technically be called an ass whooping. The brothers moved with precision, stealth and lightening quickness as they stalked, cornered and crated the piglets without getting so much as a drop of mud anywhere but their boots. It was just depressing.

Currently Glenn, Deadpool and I were dejectedly sitting in timeout next to the car with strict instructions not to touch anything. I couldn't even if we wanted to. I didn't have any fingers. How the hell was I going to touch anything? Glenn was no better. He looked like he was encased in a mud cocoon and Deadpool was literally super glued to the ground thanks to the mud seeping from her pants. It was painful knowing we got our ass kicked by piglets. It was downright humiliating watching someone pick them up and throw them in the crates like they were picking lint off their pants, utterly demoralizing.

"How did they do that?" Glenn marveled, picking a chunk of his crusted cocoon off his forearm. It was practically fossilized at this point.

"Redneck voodoo," I answered, still trying to spit the taste of mud out of my mouth. It wasn't working.

"Is there a lot in my hair?" Deadpool asked.

Glenn and I turned and I had to fight to keep my face neutral. Based on Webster's definition of "a lot" no she didn't. I believe the dictionary would classify this more as a "shit-ton". It was so thick at the base of her skull it looked like she was wearing a mud helmet. I was having a hard time differentiating between it and her dreadlocks.

"No, it's not bad," I lied.

She looked to Glenn who quickly added, "Yeah, barely noticeable."

A pair of boots stopped in front of us and we looked up at Daryl.

"Come on, got the shower working, but y'all gotta be quick cause there ain't a lot of water."

Swallowing my humiliation and more mud I climbed to my feet and followed him towards the house. The stories about today would be bad enough without returning to the prison looking like a mud bath gone wrong. He led us into an upstairs bathroom where Deadpool went straight in while Glenn and I waited in the adjoining bedroom.

"There's extra clothes in here." He tossed a backpack on the bed.

"Thanks," I mumbled, head down.

"You brought extra clothes?" Glenn pondered.

Yeah, he did. A couple extra sets for me and one for him. His clothes would be gigantic on Glenn and my extra pants about six inches too long on Deadpool, but it was better than our current situation. I'd rather cut my toenails with her samurai sword than explain why he carried that bag around. He turned, leaving us to solidify into mud bricks.

"At least ya didn't set yurself on fire this time Red."

When smirked at me over his shoulder I vowed retribution, just as soon as I could move without the burden of 50 extra pounds of mud. The look on my face made him haul ass out of the room less I beat him to death with my club paws, but it was too late, the damage was already done. Glenn gaped at me in disbelief.

"Fire? That's why he has the extra clothes? Because you caught on fire?!"

I flopped back on the mattress with a groan, ignoring the flecks of dried mud that chipped off my body and shot around the room.

"We're so not doing the waterfall tonight."

* * *

 **This idea popped into my head when I saw Violet. I couldn't stop smiling when I thought about writing this. It cracked me up imaging Alex, Deadpool and Glenn failing so epically (especially Alex and Deadpool who are practically ninja's most of the time). I hope you guys laughed a lot!**

 **What was your favorite part?**


	38. The Ugly Truth

**The Ugly Truth**

"Kevin you better share that with Bacon." The once tiny piglets now weighed in at over 70 pounds and refused to listen to a word I said. Guess some things never changed. "Here you go Jimmy Dean."

"Are you feeding them granola bars?" I glanced over my shoulder at Rick, shrugging. "Pigs don't eat granola bars."

"They're gluten free."

"It's not the gluten..." he frowned, taking the wrapper and reading the labeling. "What is gluten anyway?"

"It's..." Damn I missed Google. "Like being vegan, but with gluten."

"Vegan?"

This one I knew, kinda.

"It's when you don't eat meat," I clarified.

"Isn't that a vegetarian?"

I cocked my head to the side thinking. "Well yeah, but you only eat nuts or bark or dirt."

That didn't sound right, but I was out of my depth. The only alternative diet I'd ever tried was the one where you lived off pizza and beer. I think it was called the college fraternity diet.

"That's a paleo diet." My head swiveled to him, eyebrows raised. "Lori," his voice broke and he coughed. I looked away to give him time to compose himself. "She got on a health kick a few years ago."

"How long did that last?"

He smiled wistfully, "A day and a half."

I laughed, "Sounds about right." I wouldn't have made it five minutes. "Jimmy Dean be careful! You just stepped on Violet!"

Rick propped a high heel on the bottom of the fence.

"You gotta stop naming them. They're not pets. They're food."

I gasped, "Don't say that stuff around them. They're sensitive." He didn't comment, but his head shake was comment enough. "And I only named three. Carl named Violet."

"Oh my god." He rubbed his hands up-and-down his face in exasperation, but he wisely changed the subject. "You going with Michonne?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything, but his eyes narrowed minutely. It'd been over a month since he handed over the reins of power to the council. He needed a break, time to come to terms with his "new normal" and process his loss. The occupants of the prison felt better with a more democratic approach to decision-making, especially after their experience with The Governor so it was a win-win.

All that being said he still struggled to accept their decisions. Things like sanctioning Deadpool's obsessive manhunt for the former leader of Woodbury was a prime example. Personally, I thought they made the smart choice. The woman was going to do what she wanted regardless of what they said so forbidding her from leaving the prison was futile. Plus, it had the added disadvantage of making them look weak. Better to pretend the choice was theirs.

I tossed the last piece of granola into the pen, ignoring Rick's chastising look before wiping my hands on my jeans and heading towards the cars. It was still early, but Deapool and I planned to leave soon in the hopes we could scout out the town she thought Crazy might be in and still make it home before nightfall.

"Hey lil' sister," Merle drawled, sauntering up with his usual swagger. Daryl was a few steps behind, shaking his head at his brother's antics, crossbow on his shoulder. "Where's my lovely Samurai headed today?"

"You realize no one will stop her from stabbing you, right?" I asked, unable to keep a smile off my face when he simply shrugged.

Merle and Deadpool had reached a truce of sorts, meaning she wasn't actively trying to kill him at the moment. Truth was the elder Dixon was constantly working on repairing most (all) of his relationships at the prison. He had "history" with almost everyone living here and those he didn't tended to steer clear of him on principle. People with knives strapped to their stub didn't scream friendship material.

He was trying. I saw it. Even Glenn begrudgingly admitted there was a marked difference between Merle pre-Woodbury and post-Woodbury. His apology skills were worse than even Daryl's which was a statistical anomaly. It appeared apologizing was the one thing all Dixon's sucked at.

I wasn't sure everyone from our core group had forgiven him, but they tolerated him and that was a start. I thought he was doing remarkably well, but I had nothing to compare it to. To me he was just the same old Merle. I didn't know the drug addicted lunatic or the right-hand man serving as a town's executioner. The man I knew had always been my brother-in-law, whether I knew it or not.

"Don't let the tough exterior fool ya," he grinned, "She's putty in 'ol Merle's hands."

"If you say so."

In my experience Deadpool was as close to being putty in anyone's hands as I was to being a nun. He laughed, tossing his pack on the ground, raising his eyebrows, but it was the mischievous grin that made my eyes go wide. I took a step back, getting ready to run, holding up a finger in warning.

"No, don't you dare..."

It was too late.

He sprung forward with surprising quickness, wrapping me in a crushing bear hug, my arms pinned to my side. He spun me in a circle, feet a good two inches off the ground, hooting with laughter as I squealed.

"A'right, settle down," Daryl said, more for my benefit than any real annoyance on his part.

Thankfully Merle set me back on solid ground, draping a heavy arm over my shoulder. I scrunched up my face, ducking out from under him and leaping behind Daryl.

"That hurts Firecracker."

He put his hands over his chest, dramatically staggering back a few steps in mock pain.

"Uh huh," I mumbled, inspecting my arm for any Merle residue. "I don't know where that hands been so just...no."

"Well, I'll tell ya..."

Before he could finish that sentence I plugged a finger in each ear, pressing my head firmly against Daryl's back, humming loudly to drown out his voice.

"La, la, la, la, la!"

There were some things you just couldn't un-hear. I could feel Daryl's body shaking with laughter as he turned, prying my fingers from my ears much to my chagrin.

"What's up with her?" Deadpool asked as she stopped by the car, backpack in one hand, samurai sword in the other.

"Merle," Rick offered by way of an explanation, gesturing to the man.

"Got it," she nodded.

"Hey!" Merle cried.

"Where are you planning to check today?" Rick asked. She opened the back door of the car, tossing her gear in.

"Greenville."

Rick nodded, his lips pulled thin in thought.

"Long way." She grunted in agreement and he took a step towards the car. "What makes you think he'd head that way?"

"That's where he's from." Daryl's hand twitched at his side and I interlaced our fingers, not taking my eyes off Rick or Deadpool. Was it me or were they acting funny? "He lived around there with his wife and daughter before the outbreak."

Prior to cutting out his eyeball Deadpool made sure to snoop through his belongings, coming across a diary with all sorts of personal information about the family he lost. She believed he would venture back to familiar ground to lick his wounds and re-group. It made about as much sense as anything and it beat wondering around aimlessly.

"Town will be full of walkers," Rick commented, stating the blatantly obvious before taking a step closer, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Main roads will be clogged getting there. I'd stick to the backroads if you can."

She simply hummed in agreement, distracted, all this information something even Nugget knew at this point. He took another step closer, stopping right beside her and drawing her full attention. Rick looked unsure, nervous even and I frowned at the uncharacteristic behavior. Confident, somewhat unstable, batshit crazy, those were all faces I was familiar with. Nervous, fidgety and seriously uncool, never seen it, not once.

"I, uh," he trailed off, pulling a 9 mm pistol from the back of his pants and offering it to her. "I noticed you didn't have one and thought...you know, just in case."

Merle's jaw dropped open, Daryl paused with his cigarette halfway to his lips and my eyes bulged so wide it was a minor miracle they didn't fall out of my head. Deadpool eyed the pistol, the grip on her sword tightening ever so slightly like it might sense she was contemplating cheating on it, but she slowly, tentatively, accepted the gift.

"Th..thank you," she stuttered, the acknowledgment foreign on her tongue.

The two stood barely a foot apart, and I swear the sexual tension in the air crackled. I barely resisted the urge to fan myself.

"It was nothing," Rick offered lamely, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

Good lord he had no game, zero, zilch, nada. It was like watching the apocalyptic version of Days of our Lives, dramatic, heart pounding, seriously cheesy. And I thought watching Happy Go Lucky pursue Beth was comical. Deadpool felt our stares and cleared her throat, dropping her eyes and taking a deliberate step away from him.

"Right, I'm going to..." she pointed in the general direction of Carol who was cooking under the pavilion.

"Yeah, right, sure," Rick agreed, taking his own step back. She hightailed it away from the car without further comment, Rick's eyes following her retreating form or rather her retreating ass. I cleared my throat dramatically and his eyes snapped to mine. "What?"

I grinned. "Nothing. Just wondering if you two need a minute...or two."

Daryl snorted, taking a long drag of his cigarette as Merle chuckled.

"It's not like that."

"OK," I agreed, still smiling.

"Alex..."

I held a hand up in surrender.

"I said OK."

"You said OK, but you don't mean OK." What? That made no sense whatsoever. "We're friends," he insisted, face getting red for an entirely different reason now.

"Sure."

The more I agreed with him the more pissed he got. I'd hate to see what he'd do if I told him what I really thought.

"She didn't have a weapon besides that sword and if things go south out there you guys are screwed." His eyes bounced around between the three of us looking for validation. We all nodded, but that only seemed to rile him up. "Do you want _your wife_ out there with someone armed with nothing but a glorified knife?!" he all but screamed at Daryl.

"Nope," Daryl answered calmly, unfazed either by Rick's escalation or the use of my title, continuing to smoke his cigarette at my side.

The shine had definitely worn off the bombshell of our impromptu nuptials so if Rick was hoping to draw attention away from his boner for Deadpool he missed the boat. We were officially old news.

"So you believe me?" he asked, "That we're just friends?"

"Oh yeah."

"Sure."

"Yep." The three of us answered together.

"Good." He nodded, giving us one last lingering look. "I have to go take care of the pigs."

"Tell Jimmy Dean I'll keep a lookout for more granola bars." He ignored me, stomping off towards the pig pen. Once he was out of ear shot I looked at the brothers. "They totally wanna hump, right?"

"Hell yeah."

"Shit yeah." The brother's said in unison.

"That's what I thought."

Merle scratched his chin, eyeing me thoughtfully. "Be careful out there lil' sister."

"You too." The corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile as he picked up his stuff, giving us a minute alone. "When are you leaving?"

"Probably right after y'all," he answered, "Should've left at first light, but got held up with fence repair."

"East side again?"

He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with his boot.

"Yeah. Damn things keep pilin' up there for some reason."

I grunted in agreement, biting my lip in contemplation. "Maybe when I get back..."

"Hey," he interrupted, my eyes flicking to his troubled face. "Don't worry 'bout that, they can handle it. Don't need to be focused on nothin' 'cept getting' back here safe n' sound."

"You worried about me?" I smiled, taking a step closer, his hands instantly settling on my hips.

"Always worried 'bout ya," he admitted shyly. "Maybe I should go with her..."

I cut him off by kissing him, the feel of his stubble rubbing against my skin heavenly. Pressing my body flush against his I tilted my head to the side, weaving my hands into his hair and pulling him closer, nibbling on his lower lip. His chest rumbled in response as his tongue darted out, tangling with mine. The taste of smoke lingered in his mouth. He smelled like sweat, motorcycle grease and something uniquely Daryl. It smelled like home.

"Should I come back later or...?" We pulled apart slowly at Deadpool's voice, but stayed locked in each other's arms, faces inches apart. She muttered something about getting a room before adding, "I'll be in the car."

"Yeah," I threw over my shoulder absently, swallowing hard at the heated gaze in his eyes. "Be careful out there."

He reached up, brushing his knuckles down the side of my face slowly, intimately, before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and hugging me.

"See you again Mrs. Dixon."

Squeezing my eyes shut I hugged him as hard as I could.

"This side or the other."

Reluctantly we released each other and I squeezed his hand one last time before stepping out of his arms and making my way to the car. I was just about to climb into the passenger seat when he called out.

"Red." I paused, looking over my shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something just as a group of kids rounded the corner and he stopped.

"I know," I replied, my face softening. "Me too."

He pressed his lips together, shoving his hands deep in his front pockets, giving me a curt nod. I threw him a wink, grinning when he rolled his eyes, but it had the intended effect as his shoulders relaxed marginally. Climbing into the car Deadpool pulled away, pausing only briefly for the guards to open the gate and let us out. Once we cleared the fence she gunned it, mowing down any walkers dumb enough to get in her way. Guess we wouldn't need to clear this part of the fence today.

"I'm so glad you picked the car with the CD player," I grinned, already rifling through the collection. A CD player was almost more important than air conditioning. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Not country."

"Word."

Daryl, Merle and Rick were notorious for listening to nothing but hick. A girl could only take so much sad wailing about dogs and trucks and people leaving before she snapped.

It took a few minutes but I finally found the perfect song. People didn't know this about Deadpool given her everyday scary demeanor, but she was actually a lot of fun. At least I thought so, but then again I'd been told on several occasions I was somewhat suicidal.

"OK, you ready?" I asked, the CD loaded, song on pause.

She nodded, grinning at me now that no one was around to see it. Truth was she was a big softie once you got to know her. Problem was she wasn't really one for letting people get to know her so currently Carl and I were the only ones who were members of the _'I love Deadpool'_ fan club.

"Who's turn is it?"

"Yours."

I smiled. Game on. I hit play, cranking up the volume to earsplitting levels.

 ** _Payback is a bad bitch and baby, I'm the baddest, I'm the baddest, I'm the baddest_**

The second she heard the music she tilted her head back, laughing as she held out a fist. I promptly bumped it with mine and blowing it up. With my other I held my pretend microphone, rolling my shoulders and getting ready. This was a ritual every time we got together. Nothing said blowing off steam like karaoke. There was only one rule, no half-assing it (Rick would be so proud). You either came with the thunder or you didn't come at all, and I made it a point to always come.

 _"Now I'm out here looking like revenge. Feelin' like a 10,"_ I sang, holding up 10 fingers as the music pumped in the car _. "The best I ever been and yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this."_ I pointed at myself, hands trailing down my body. _"But it gets worse. Wait a minute."_

I pointied at Deadpool who was bobbing her head in time with the intoxicating beat. She took the imaginary microphone, signing as loud as she could when the lyrics blasted through the speakers. I brought my A game to the backup vocals.

 _"Now you're out here looking like regret. Ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get."_ I couldn't contain my laugh when she briefly held up two fingers before lowering one and hilariously wagging it back-and-forth. _"And yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this. But it gets worse. Wait a minute."_

She pointed at me, indicating it was my turn again, but I didn't need the reminder. I danced around in my seat, hands up in the air, playing the air guitar, air drums, air everything. I was just getting warmed up.

 _"Now payback is a bad bitch and baby, I'm the baddest. You fuckin' with a savage. Can't have this, can't have this,"_ I crooned.

I glanced at Deadpool as she added a slightly out of tune, _"Ah"._

 _"And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya. But nah."_

We both leaned towards the center console when the chorus started, singing together as loud as we could. It was a miracle the windows didn't shatter.

 _"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. Being so bad got me feelin' so good. Showing you up like I knew that I would. Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. Baby, I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. Feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned. Yeah, I'm on fire and I know that it burns."_

A handful of songs (20) later we had to take a break to rest our vocal cords. Rick was right, it was a long way to Greenville. I had no idea how Adele managed a world tour. Signing was hard work.

"Why don't you ever sing with Beth and Maggie?" she asked, eyes on the road.

"Why don't you ever karaoke with anyone but me?" I countered. She glared at me in response and I decided to throw her a bone. "I don't want to taint it." She frowned, clearly confused. "When they sing it's so pure and angelic. I shouldn't be involved with something so...good."

I propped my elbow on the door, chin under my hand, watching the world pass by in swirl of indistinguishable color. Truth was everything about the Greene family made me feel inadequate. They were good people with good souls and I was neither.

"I had a son." She said it so quietly I almost thought I imagined it. "His name was Andre."

I didn't miss how she spoke about him in the past tense.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded without looking at me. "My son and boyfriend are why I don't let anyone see this side of me. I don't want to get close to anyone and lose them again. It almost killed me last time."

"Why let me?"

She snorted, "You never really gave me a choice."

"True."

I reached across the console and squeezing her hand briefly. Disclosing that kind of personal information was a huge step for her. While I saw a side to her most didn't she still didn't share much, if any, of her past.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you can't sing for shit."

"Bitch," she grinned.

"Stop the car," I said suddenly, already opening the door before she fully stopped.

"Alex, what..."

I didn't wait to hear the rest of her question, running forward with my PPQ out, scanning the immediate area for walkers. An SUV was parked a few paces ahead, all the doors open with the engine still running, but that wasn't what had me jogging. A man was crawling forward on all fours leaving a trail of red blood behind him. There was a horrid lump on the side of his head and a deep knife wound somewhere in his midsection that was the cause of the shocking amount of blood loss.

I paused briefly at the car, clearing the inside of the vehicle, but as I suspected there was nothing, nothing except blood. The passenger seat was a stain of red and I saw a pair of feet lying unmoving on the other side. There were bloody handprints and blood smears on the backseat. I leaned closer examining the leather, swallowing hard when I realized the gouge marks in the seat were made by fingernails. Abandoning the vehicle I ran the last few steps to the man, Deadpool hot on my heels.

"There's a body on the other side," I told her, holstering my weapon and squatting down by the man. I glanced at Deadpool briefly, her face grim as she adjusted the grip on the sword, heading back to the car. "Hey, easy there."

I laid a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stop, but he didn't respond. His eyes were vacant and unfocused as he murmured something over-and-over too quiet and jumbled for me to make out.

"Can you hear me?"

He just kept crawling down the road at an agonizingly slow pace, his chant like a prayer on his lips. Frustrated I looked back towards the car, squinting when I noticed what appeared to be drag marks going straight through a pool of blood. My mind pieced together the evidence and I saw the scene play out.

A family was in their SUV traveling down the road when something, or more appropriately someone, forced them to stop. A fight ensued in which the woman was killed and the man left for dead, but whoever did this took something, someone, probably their child. The bloody handprints on the backseat were the parent's desperate attempts to grab whoever was in the backseat. The drag marks through the blood caused by the assailant taking them by force.

Looking at the man I leaned closer, closing my eyes and listening to what I previously discarded as gibberish ramblings from a disoriented man.

"Lizzie, Mika, Lizzie, Mika, Lizzie, Mika," he repeated again and again, eyes locked on the horizon.

"Your daughters," I offered. His hand paused in the air, head swaying unsteadily as his eyes left the road for the first time. "Lizzie and Mika, they're your daughters?"

He stumbled towards me, grabbing the thin fabric of my tank top and hauling me forward with a startling amount of force given his current state.

"Help them," he ground out, eyes wild.

I nodded, "We will." Slowly I encircled his wrists, nodding reassuringly at him. "We will."

He sucked in a ragged, wet breath before collapsing on his side. I leaned over him, examining him quickly from head to toe. He had a nasty head wound that left a six inch gash in the side of his head and a sizeable knife wound slicing across his torso, but it was the puncture wound to his chest that was the main issue. The labored sounds of his breathing told me he had a sucking chest wound that was allowing air to travel into his chests cavity rather than his lungs. Every time he inhaled he invited air in through the gaping hole in his chest and it was slowly killing him.

"Is he alive?" Deadpool asked, dropping to the ground on the other side of him.

"Barely." I used a knife to cut away the fabric of his shirt. "Get my pack from the backseat." She nodded, rushing back to the car. Once she returned I called out instructions, "Open up the sterile dressing, gimme just the packaging."

"What's that gonna do?"

"I need tape." I placed the plastic portion of the sterile dressing over the knife wound in his chest, tapping the edges down. "We need to close off this hole so air can't get into his chest."

"What about the knife wound?"

I grimaced, "I'll deal with that once we make sure his lung doesn't collapse."

"What's he saying?"

"His daughter's names."

The chest wound covered I moved to the nasty gash in his side. There wasn't much I could do out here except apply disinfectant, bind it, and hope it stemmed the bleeding enough to keep him from bleeding out. It needed stitches and for that we needed Hershel. Together Deadpool and I lifted, pulled and tugged as gently as possible to clean and bind the wound.

"His lips are turning blue," Deadpool stated, her voice uncharacteristically rattled.

"Shit."

The man's breathing became shorter and shorter, one side of his chest getting noticeably larger with each painful inhale.

"What's wrong?"

I removed the tape from one side of the dressing in the hopes it would allow air to escape from his chest while blocking more from entering. I bit my lip, watching and waiting, but after several minutes of no change I ripped the plastic off entirely. The moment the stab wound was uncovered the swollen side of his chest started to gradually deflate.

"His lung collapsed," I said.

"What do we do?"

I looked at her, shaking my head. We needed a real doctor with real medical supplies not the two of us and a measly first aid kit. I had more than your average first aid training, but a collapsed lung required tools I didn't have at my disposal.

We couldn't move him, not quickly, not without killing him and even if we could it would take at least an hour to get back to the prison. By the looks of him he didn't have a minute much less an hour. Plus, I seriously doubted even Hershel or Submarine could save him.

My heart ached when I untied the binding curtailing the bleeding on the long, jagged knife wound traversing his waist. The blood poured out of his side, coating my hands and the pavement almost instantly. Gingerly I took his ice cold hand in my own, leaning over him with a sad smile.

"Do you know where they took them?"

He coughed, blood spraying from his lips. "Lizzie, Mika, Lizzie, Mika."

"I know," I nodded, "Which way did they go?" He raised a bloody finger, hand shaking violently as he pointed behind him. "Greenville?"

"Y-y-e-e-s-s," he choked out.

"How many?"

"F-f-o-o-u-u-r-r."

"Guns?"

Knives and blunt force weapons were obvious, but I hadn't seen any bullet holes. It would have been much easier to shoot these people and take their kids without a fight. Bludgeoning and stabbing someone to death took time and stamina. I didn't care if these guys were rolling around in an up armored Humvee toting rocket launchers I was going to track them down and make them suffer. I just needed to know what I was walking into.

He shook his head no.

"What's your name?" He blinked at me, slipping away. I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "What's your name?"

"R-r-y-y-a-a-n-n."

"Ryan?"

He nodded, gasping for air that would never come and I covered his hand with both of mine, watching the light fade from his eyes.

"F-f-f-i-i-n-n-d-d...t-t-h-h-e-e-m-m."

He squeezed my hand, a haunted look on his face only a parent who'd witnessed their babies being snatched away could possess.

"I will," I promised. "I'll find them."

"D-d-o-o-n-n-t-t...l-l-e-e-a-a-v-v-e-e...a-a-l-l-o-o-n-n-e-e," he gurgled, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

"I won't."

His hand went limp in mine, head falling to the side as his chest rose and fell one last time before stopping. I let go of his hand, reaching forward and closing his eyes, the blood on my hands leaving a stain of red on his eyelids. Sinking back on my heels I bowed my head, reaching for a knife at my waist.

"I'll do it," Deadpool said softly.

I looked at her, taking a deep breath and giving her a grateful nod. She smiled sadly as I stood up, picking up my pack and walking back to the car. I didn't stop when I heard the whirl of her blade slicing through the wind or when the sickening thud of the blade cutting through bone reached my ears. My mind was already 10 miles away in Greenville. The sound of Deadpool's door closing pulled me away from my murderous thoughts.

"The wife?"

"Dead."

I nodded, "Did they rape her?" She turned, eyebrows raised in question. "If they raped her it means they aren't selective. If we stroll into Greenville they'll most likely attack on site." She nodded, rolling my logic around in her head. "If they didn't rape her we can play it different. It means they're only interested in children. Gives us more options."

"There was no blood...down there," she said uncomfortably, "Clothes weren't torn or ripped. She was stabbed once in the back and again in the head, probably to stop reanimation."

"We need to hurry." She put the car in drive, pulling around the SUV, following the road to the small, country town. "The blood was still tacky which means we aren't far behind. We're gonna have to hope they stopped in town for supplies. There isn't much around here and if they have kids they'll need provisions. Greenville's their only option for miles."

"How do you know they won't just kill them?"

I balled my hands into fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm.

"No, they want them for something." Nothing good, I added silently. "If they wanted to kill them they could have done it back there and been done with it."

She pursed her lips, hands gripping the steering wheel like she was strangling someone. I felt the exact same way.

On the outskirts of the town we pulled the car off to the side of the road behind a building to obscure it from view. There wasn't much to Greenville, Georgia. The sign on the edge of town that was riddled with bullet holes, classy, said there was a whopping population of 855. There were more people than that in my high school graduation class.

We made our way closer to the town square slowly and quietly. There were no woods close enough to offer any cover so we were forced to travel on the streets and sidewalks, but other than the occasional walker that Deadpool decapitated before I could even point it out there wasn't much happening in this one light town.

The history of the town was vibrant despite the apocalyptic conditions. Everywhere you looked you saw old, red brick buildings and quaint corner stores complete with throwback awnings. Even the streetlights had that old world vibe. It was the kind of place I might have enjoyed before the turn. Now it was tainted by death and despair like everything else. We edged our way towards Main Street via 3rd Street and I sighed. The creativity in this place was a little lacking. The sound of glass breaking drew my attention and I put a light hand on Deadpool's arm, stopping her. She looked at me and I held one finger to my lips telling her to wait and listen. Sure enough a few seconds later another crashing sound.

"Idiots," she sneered. Amen sister.

We crept forward, peering around the corner, watching four men throw bricks through a local corner store window. Road Scholars these guys were not. Unbelievably there weren't a ton of walkers roaming the town, but by the time these guys were done they would've changed the migration habits of every herd in the state.

I counted four just like the father said. They all looked absolutely filthy. So gross I wished for a Hazmat suit and swore I would never again mock my husband's personal hygiene habits. Compared to these guys he was a veritable Mr. Clean. Their clothes were grimy, spattered with blood, sweat, dirt and god knows what else. It was a minor miracle they hadn't died from a random infection. A papercut could be fatal these days if you didn't keep it clean and I saw no part of them that was even remotely clean.

The father was right about the guns. Other than knives and melee weapons they appeared to be relatively unarmed. Carol packed more heat during story time. There was a white panel van parked a few feet behind them and I cringed. If that didn't scream stranger danger I didn't know what did.

"What do you want to do?" Deadpool asked. I answered by unbuckling the belt at my waist holding my knives, and then unstrapped the leg harness for my PPQ. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Still got that pistol Rick gave you?" She nodded, gesturing to her waist where it was tucked into her jeans. "Hand it over."

She complied, watching me with skepticism as I stashed my weapons underneath a cardboard box next to a hardware store. I shoved my PPQ and her 9mm pistol into the waistband of my pants, taking care ensure my tank top wasn't covering the weapons.

"Do I get to hear the plan now?" she scowled.

"Calm your tits." I stand corrected. _Now_ she was scowling. "On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being super-duper confident and 1 being not so much, what are the chances you can take one of them out with your sword before they kill you or me?"

"Ten," she answered without hesitation.

"Thought so,"I grinned, "Here's the plan, we walk up, make sure they're the ones who took the kids then kill them." She blinked at me. "What?"

" _That's_ the plan?!"

"Shhh," I exclaimed, checking to make sure the Four Musketeers hadn't heard us. "Keep your voice down."

"Walking over there and killing them is not a plan," she yell-whispered, eyes wide, "It's the opposite of a plan."

"It's the _beginning_...of a plan." She rolled her eyes at me. "Trust me, it'll work. They don't have any guns..."

"That you can see," she added, arms crossed over her chest.

Never thought I'd see the day Deadpool pouted.

"That I can see," I amended. "Even if they do I've got these babies."

I patted my back, wiggling my eyebrows.

"How confident are you that you can kill three before they kill you or me?"

I snorted, "A hundred." She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. "Trust me, I got this. See the short one wearing the wife beater?" She nodded. "I'll take him out first and then work my way to the right until I get to the one wearing the baseball cap. You've got the one sporting the ridiculous man bun."

She covered her face with her hands, "This is a bad plan."

"It's a great plan." She dropped her hands, glaring at me. "Fine, it's the _beginning_ of a great plan."

"And how do you propose we get them to admit they're the ones who took the kids?"

Jeez she asked a lot of questions. She was the female equivalent of Rick. Huh, maybe they would make a good couple.

"Let's go."

Without waiting for a response I was up and striding towards the men. Deadpool cursed low under her breath, but followed, sword held loosely in her hand. Her body language was casual, but I felt the tension radiating off of her like a furnace.

I wasn't lying to Deadpool. This was a good plan. We could take these rejects with both hands tied behind our back, but it wasn't them I was worried about. It was the kids. We coudln't kill them until we were sure the girls were in the kidnapper van. They didn't strike me as the type of guys who had the foresight to stash them elsewhere, but if I'd learned anything over the years it was that looks could be deceiving.

Just look at me.

We were practically within arm's reach of them before they noticed and I mentally rolled my eyes. How these guys survived this long was a freakin' miracle.

"What the...?" the short one wearing the wife beater shouted, reaching for a knife only to stop when he saw it was only two women. "Who the hell are you?"

I plastered the most innocent, desperate, doe eyed expression on my face before answering in a shaky, timid voice.

"I knew it. I told her I heard voices. She didn't believe me," I gestured to Deadpool, gushing with fake gratitude. "I'm Cher and this is my friend Dionne."

"Y'all alone?" the one in the baseball hat asked.

I nodded enthusiastically, like running into them was pure coincidence and our lucky day, playing the part of naïve survivor to a T.

"We haven't seen anyone...anyone who was alive for weeks," I cringed, pretending the mere thought of walkers frightened me. "Our car ran out of gas days ago and we've been walking ever since. We saw the sign for town a few miles back and decided to check it out."

"The roads ain't safe," the short one stated, the other three snickering at what they thought was an inside joke. "Lotta bad things can happen."

Deadpool twitched ever-so-slightly, their amusement at the carnage they left behind whittling away her ability to stay calm. I took a small step forward, obscuring her from view. It gave her the time she needed to school her expression.

"Oh my god we know. We saw..." My lips trembled and my hands shook, but my senses were on high alert. I was watching every move they made. None of them even had a weapon in their hand. It almost wasn't fair. "There was this car a ways back and these people had been..." I covered my face with my hands, pretending to freak out.

"Something bad?"

The short one asked the question like he was concerned, but I saw the gleam in his eyes. He wasn't concerned. He was thrilled. He wanted to hear about it so he could relive it.

"They were...they were...beaten and stabbed. It was just awful," I cried, swiping away a fake tear.

"That does sound bad." Man bun's smile was contradictory to his comment.

"I just hope they didn't suffer," I sniffled, squaring my shoulders and moving slightly to the left. I was 99% sure these were our guys. "I just pray they were alone. No one should have to see something like that."

The one in the baseball hat narrowed his eyes slightly at the same time as man bun's eyes flicked to the panel van. The third guy who had yet to speak took an unconscious step towards the vehicle. Correction, I was 100% sure these were our guys, and I would bet Daryl's newly smoked deer jerky the kids were in the back of the van.

"World's a dangerous place," the short one said, losing his patience for the conversation. That made two of us.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "You know there was something else."

When I didn't continue the short threw his hands up in the air in annoyance. "Well..."

"The dead man on the side of the road..." I met his beady stare, tilting my head to the side.

"What about him?"

"His name was Ryan."

I spoke loud, my voice carrying, all traces of fear or trepidation gone. Muffled screams erupted from the back of the van when the girls heard their father's name. They kicked on the side of the van, shouting though their gags, but I heard them. We both did.

Before the short one could so much as blink I pulled both guns from the waistband of my jeans and put a bullet from my PPQ right between his eyes. He slumped to the ground instantly. A swifter death than the asshole deserved, but I still had two more to deal with. In his shock baseball cap fumbled for the knife at his waist, but he was dead before his shaky hand could find the hilt, a 9mm bullet in the side of his head. I didn't spare his body a glance as it fell, already firing another round from my PPQ and killing the silent one. I turned both weapons towards Deadpool ready to lend a helping hand, but man bun's body was on the ground and his head was rolling the opposite direction down Main Street.

"We gotta move," I said quickly, already making my way to the back of the van. Between these ass clowns breaking windows and the gunfire we would have walkers up our ass in minutes.

I don't think either of us was prepared for what we found in the back of that van. There weren't two girls bound, gagged and thrown in the back. There were six, but that wasn't the truly horrific part. Three of them were huddled on one side of the van, tears streaking down their faces. On the opposite side lay three bodies. All covered in blood. All dead.

"Lizzie, Mika?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from the small, lifeless figures.

The oldest girl, maybe 12 or 13 years-old, nodded back at me. Her dirty blonde hair matted to one side of her face, her big, blue eyes wide and terrified.

"My name's Alex. This is Michonne," I gestured behind me, crawling into the van and untying their gags and restraints.

"I'm Lizzie," she said, reaching for who I assumed was Mika. "My mom and dad?"

I glanced at Deadpool who dropped her eyes to the ground. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, giving her a wordless shake of my head. She sobbed, clutching her baby sister. My heart broke for the siblings, but we needed to get out of here.

"What's your name?" I asked the youngest one. As soon as she was free she crab walked away from me, her back slamming into the front seat as she drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and burying her head. "Hey, it's OK. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise. We can take you somewhere safe." She looked at me behind a curtain of dirty brown hair. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Molly," she whispered.

"That's a beautiful name." I helped Lizzie and Mika forward, handing them off to Deadpool as I inched closer to Molly. "It's not safe here Molly. We need to leave."

"I'm scared."

"It's OK to be scared," I reassured her.

"My sister..." she trailed off, a new wave of tears making her body shake. "Is she dead?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I don't know where she is."

Her tiny finger pointed to the left, my head following despite my desire not to look. Bile bubbled in my throat as I looked at the three small bodies lying bound and gagged on the van floor. One appeared to be a young teenager, and had a gaping head wound that had coated the back of the van in sticky blood. I pressed two fingers under her chin feeling for a pulse, but the cold, clamminess of her skin told me all I needed to know.

Dead.

I moved on to another girl around Mika's age, 8 -years-old if I had to guess, but I could already see her chest wasn't moving. I checked for a pulse just to be sure and found none. She suffocated from the gag they hastily shoved in her mouth.

Dead.

The last girl was no older than three, her body so small it looked like a doll. There was blood all around her, but with her body lying on its side I couldn't see the injury so I rolled her onto her back. I bit down on my lip so hard I drew blood when I saw the knife wound in her stomach.

"She ran in front of mommy," Molly muttered.

I pressed my fingers against her neck and froze when I felt a weak, thready pulse. Scrambling closer I leaned down, putting my ear against her mouth and listening. There. A tiny puff of air in and out.

"She's alive," I gasped, snatching a filthy rag and pressing it hard against her abdomen. It was absolutely soiled, but that's what antibiotics were for, right? She groaned in pain and it was the most beautiful thing I think I'd ever heard. "Molly, we have to go. We have to go now!"

The news her little sister was alive propelled the girl out of the van faster than lightening. She went straight to Lizzie and Mika, holding the latter's hand as all three pairs of eyes watched me carry the baby girl out of the van.

"How bad?" Deadpool asked, already herding the girls towards our waiting car.

I gave her a look and she balled her hands into fists, looking like she wanted to kill the bastards all over again. Deadpool grabbed my hidden weapons as we ran to the car, loading the girls into the backseat while I got into the front, the little girl unresponsive in my arms.

"What's her name?" I asked Molly.

She sniffled, scooting closer to Mika. "Emily. She's four."

"Emily," I repeated, peering down at her.

She was the spitting image of her older sister with brown hair, plump lips and a button nose. I would bet money her eyes were the same hazel brown too. Deadpool climbed in, handing me a clean-er piece of cloth and I nodded at her, tossing the nasty, old rag out the window. I pressed against the wound as hard as I could, but still blood seeped between my fingers, covering my hands much too fast. The car lurched forward, tires squealing as Deadpool drove towards the prison like a bat out of hell.

"Will she make it?" she asked softly even though the girls could still hear.

I adjusted Emily in my arms, propping her up and letting go off the pressure bandage for a moment to check her pulse. It took me a few seconds to feel the dull, weak thump under my fingers but I did. Nevertheless, it wasn't good. The little girl was far too pale and lifeless. She needed blood, fluids, real medical attention from an actual doctor not a former assassin pressing an old shirt to fatal knife wound.

"I don't know," I finally said. We were an hour drive from the prison and that was if we encountered no issues. "Molly, how long were you in the back of the van?"

She buried her head in Lizzie's shoulder, unable to answer.

"Before us," Lizzie answered, licking her lips. "They were all there before us."

My shoulders slumped and I hugged the girl to me, my hope deflating. She didn't have an hour. We would never get there in time and truth be told her situation wasn't that different from Ryan's. Even if I could magically get her to Hershel alive she was facing an uphill battle with limited medical supplies. Tears rolled down my face, but I kept my eyes on Emily. I saw Deadpool out of the corner of my eye angrily wiping her face, sniffling despite her best efforts.

I rocked her just like I did Nugget when she was sleeping, that slow, gentle motion that was like kryptonite to children. I started humming a song I couldn't remember the words too, but had sung a thousand times in another life, my mind struggling to process today's events. This little girl was ripped away from her parents and forced to watch them slaughtered. Her reward for surviving was to be brutalized by animals. They said only the good died young. It was truer now than it had ever been. It was the truth in this terrible world. Death was the rule, survival the exception.

I would trade places with her in a heartbeat if I could, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop this eventuality. All I could hope was to offer her some form of comfort in her last moments. I wanted her to know she wasn't alone. She wasn't going to die in the back of that van. I hummed. I held her. I rocked her gently and watched while she slowly faded.

"Mommy?"

Her voice was barely more than a moan, her throat dry, lips caked with dried blood. In her weakened state it was almost impossible for her to form even a single word. She never opened her eyes, hardly moved at all, but with dying breath she wished for her mother. Up until this point I thought I understood sorrow, had reached the limits of its treachery, but holding a dying little girl in my arms I realized I'd barely skimmed the.

"Yes," I answered, my voice trembling. "I'm here baby girl."

Her breathing was getting slower and slower with longer pauses coming between each one to the point it was hard to tell if she was still alive. It wouldn't be long now.

"You can rest now sweetie. Mommy and your daddy are gonna see you real soon."

Tears blurred my vision as I held her, nuzzling my face into her hair. Lizzie had her arms around both girls in the backseat, all of them crying in earnest. Yet another child Soldier forced to grow up too soon. Deadpool covered her mouth with one hand to muffle the sobs wracking her body. Emily took a deep breath and I held mine.

"I wuv you," she mumbled.

"I love you too."

And then she was gone.

I gathered her in my arms, squeezing my eyes shut and weeping for another child who'd fallen victim to this cruel world. I wept for her sister who lost her entire family in one day. I wept for Lizzie and Mika who lost their parents to sadistic monsters. I wept for the unfairness of it all, this life, this death, this existence. Gasping for breath I leaned back in the seat, my body shaking with fury, with grief, with absolute hopelessness.

"Pull over," I said in a monotone voice. Deadpool complied without question, knowing what we had to do. I glanced over my shoulders at the crying girls in the backseat. "Don't watch."

I climbed out of the car, carrying her a few feet away and shielding the children's view with my body as I lowered her to the ground. I straightened out her torn shirt and brushed the blood stained hair away from her pale face.

"You deserve better than this," I admitted. "I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

Pulling one of the concealed knives from my boots I turned her impossibly small head to the side, trying to steady my quivering hands. I closed my eyes and asked forgiveness from whatever God would hear me and then plunged the knife into her temple, ending her life for the second time. I sank to the ground, palms braced on road, cursing the world. Why did someone so innocent, so young, have to suffer this? Why were others here and she wasn't? It made no sense. It wasn't fair.

I pulled the knife out as cleanly as I could, wiping the blood on my pants before putting it back in my boot. I slide my arms underneath her, picking her up and carrying her back to the car. We couldn't save her, but we could bury. It wasn't much, not hardly enough, but I would give her sister that small piece of comfort. No one said a word when I got back in the car, holding the tiny girl in my arms.

"Go."

For what felt like eternity the only company in the car was our collective misery. The sun was well below the treetops when the prison finally came into view. My eyes were puffy from crying and body stiff from not moving. The gate guards swung the fence open when we approached, a mass of bodies inside the prison moving towards the car with varying degrees of confusion and shock on their faces. We left looking for a monster and we found not one, but four. The car stopped. The engine cut off, but still no one moved. I could see people standing, staring, unsure what happened, unsure what to do.

The doors on the driver side opened simultaneously. I heard Hershel order everyone to move back and still we all sat motionless. Rick knelt beside Deadpool, face worried. He said something to her, but she was non-responsive, hands tightly wound around the steering wheel, tears streaming down her face. She ignored all his attempts to coax her out of the vehicle.

I curled my body around the dead girl in my arms, unwilling to face the harsh reality of today. Rick said my name and I turned to look at him. His Adam's apple bobbed up-and-down, face paling when he saw the look in my eyes. Whatever question was on the tip of his tongue died on his lips. He took a deep breath before reaching forward and slowly prying Deadpool's fingers from the steering wheel. She didn't protest, but she didn't help. He leaned inside the car, grabbing her by the shoulders and gently guiding her out. I heard Carol and Hershel talking to the girls, trying to convince them it was safe here.

"Alex?" Lizzie asked, unsure if the strangers were to be trusted. I looked at her over my shoulder, nodding jerkily.

"It's OK." My voice was parched and raw from crying. "They're good people. You're safe now."

She took a deep breath, chancing another look at Hershel and Carol before urging her sister and Molly out of the car. My door opened and someone knelt beside me.

"Red." His voice was my undoing. A strangled sob punched all the air out of my lungs as I hugged the limp body in my arms. "Lemme take her."

"We have...we have to...bury her," I stuttered through my tears, finally looking at him. He looked as stricken as I felt, eyebrows pinched, body tense. "We have to."

He nodded, "We will."

He reached over to take her and I reluctantly let go, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss without her in my arms. It made the feelings rawer, more real somehow, though I knew that was ridiculous. He handled the toddler with reverence, the sadness he felt in every move of his muscles and strangled breath he struggled to take, trying and failing not to look at her. Merle stepped forward and he transferred the small body into his waiting arms. Sasha stood next to him, hands crossed in front of her body, head bowed. She said something to Merle I couldn't hear and the two turned, walking away.

My head felt dizzy. My limbs disconnected from my body. I had no idea how I was going to climb out of the car much less walk. Turned out I didn't need to worry about it. Daryl scooped me out of the car, holding me bridal style as he kicked the door shut with his foot. I heard the murmurs of the crowd and buried my head in his neck as he barked at them to move. He carried me inside, bypassing Cellblock C and heading straight for the showers. I was grateful. There was no way I could sleep covered in blood. Problem was I didn't think if I scrubbed my skin raw I would ever stop seeing it.

"Clothes are on the bench," Carol said. I appreciated her thoughtfulness and tomorrow, when I felt less of...everything, I would tell her.

"Thanks," Daryl answered, not slowing down. He sat me down on a bench in the bathroom, kneeling in front of me. "Think ya can stand long enough to wash off?"

I nodded, already toeing off my boots and pulling my tank top over my head. My jeans and undergarments were next as I plucked the bar of soap from his hand, staggering into the shower. Methodically I rinsed, scrubbed, and rinsed again. I repeated the process over-and-over until the water ran clear, but even then I still felt dirty. No shower was going to cure what ailed me. With a heavy sigh I stepped out of the spray, turning it off and trudging into the dressing area where I grabbed a towel Daryl had thoughtfully placed on a nearby hook.

He was sitting on the bench, face neutral, body relaxed, but it wasn't without effort. I saw the way his fingers curled around the metal bench, knuckles white. The way his jaw moved back-and-forth as he ground his teeth together, a habit that only came out when he was concerned and restless. He could handle just about anything thrown at him, but he couldn't handle the thought of those he loved suffering. He couldn't abide being powerless. Yet again I was reminded I was his greatest weakness just as he was mine.

I flashed him a shaky smile, trying to put his mind at ease, but it didn't work. He narrowed his eyes, watching me like a hawk while I dried off and got dressed on autopilot. My previous clothes were nowhere in sight, and I made a mental note to thank Carol for that tomorrow as well. I finished buttoning my jeans, forgoing shoes for now as I sat down next to him, towel drying my long, wet hair. He didn't ask questions, didn't push or pry. That wasn't his way. He waited for me to tell him the details I knew he was desperate to hear, but would never dream of demanding.

We left the prison searching for The Governor and returned with three frightened, young girls, all of us covered in blood and a dead child in my arms. Dropping the towel beside me I leaned against the wall, letting my head rest on the hard concrete, arms limp at my sides. I didn't feel like crying, didn't feel much of anything at the moment. My body was numb. My mind empty. My soul hollow.

"We came across a man just outside of Greenville who'd been beaten and stabbed," I began, "He was crawling on his hands and knees down the road, blood just...everywhere. They killed his wife and took his two daughters. He was trying to follow them. His name was Ryan."

I hoped that wherever he was now he knew I kept my promise, that his girls were safe. A small mercy, but one Molly and Emily's parents would never know.

"We found the men that did it in Greenville." I swallowed hard, running my fingers through my hair. "They took the girls so we killed them."

He turned to me, lips pressed together, body rigid with apprehension, but he didn't say anything. He simply nodded. His way of saying we'd done the right thing, that he would have done the same if our positions were reversed. I appreciated his attempts to make me feel better, but it was wasted effort. I felt no guilt for taking their lives, no remorse. It was justified and I wasn't sorry.

In the back of my mind a voice screamed, one that sounded a lot like my grandmother, that was the problem. A mindset like that could set the world on fire. Feeling justified didn't make your actions inherently right. Those men felt justified killing families and kidnapping children. The Governor felt justified slaughtering a convoy of people. This world was so fucked up I wasn't sure how to navigate it, how to live in it. I would die before I became like The Governor, but where did you draw the line?

"We found Lizzie, Mika and Molly in the back of a van, but..." I trailed off, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a few deep breaths. Daryl reached over, removing my hand from my thigh and wrapping it in his, slowly rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand. "There were other girls in the back. They were dead. One was beaten like she had put up a fight and in their attempt to subdue her they accidentally killed her. The other suffocated. They stuffed a rag in her throat and when they taped it shut she swallowed it."

The pressure on our joined hands increased exponentially. I stared straight ahead. I wasn't in the bathroom. I was back in the van. The images flashed through my mind with crippling intensity, but this time no tears came. I knew that was bad, that I was losing a part of myself to the darkness, but fighting it back was too hard.

"Molly was taken with her little sister Emily. She was stabbed, but was still alive, barely. I grabbed her and we ran, trying to get back as fast as we could, but she was too hurt, too weak. She died half a half hour from the prison."

We sat in silence for a beat, his thumb tracing patterns on my skin, both of us lost in thought.

"Not yur fault," he said quietly, but with conviction.

I nodded, "I know."

And I did. Molly and Emily were likely taken hours before we ever left the prison. There was no possible way we could have stopped their abduction. I didn't feel responsible for her death. I felt hate. Hate for what she suffered. Hate that she died so young. Hate that her sister was an orphan.

"Hey," he said, leaning over, trying to force me to look at him. When I finally he did his face went hard. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Yur giving up. Cut that shit out. I ain't gonna let ya."

"What's the point?" I asked, looking away. "There's no winning this war. It's already over. We lost."

The proof was in the trail of graves we left in our wake. Walkers outnumbered us 1000 to 1. We lost this fight before it ever started. We deluded ourselves into thinking we could rebuild this world, that we could survive it. There was no surviving this. You couldn't win a game that was fixed. We were only delaying the inevitable. My mind whispered the truth I'd chosen to ignore until now, survival was the exception.

"Alex." He took my face in his hands, nostrils flaring. "This ain't ya," he insisted, "I ain't gonna lie and say it won't be hard, that this shit ain't fucked up, but we're gonna make it."

His tone left no room for argument. He truly believed that and somehow his hope gave me hope. My grandmother always said when you reached the end of your rope tie a knot and hang on. I was at the end of mine, but Daryl refused to let me fall. The truth of our demise was staring us in the face on a daily basis. The harsh reality of our world screaming at us to give up. It was up to us, the last of humanity, to try and beat the odds. Giving up now condemned our species, our group, my family, to death and I refused to sacrifice any of them.

"I love you," I confessed, putting my arms around his neck and sinking into his embrace.

"Love ya too Red."

We held each other tight. He rubbed my back while I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I swore to myself that I would fight with every bone in my body, tooth and nail, using every skill at my disposal.

For him.

For us.

I'd been fighting for the right to live since the day I was born. I fought for my life in ways most people would never understand. Inexplicably I found someone who understood my struggle because they too had lived it. Our stories were part of the same book. We were survivors and we would survive this world. We would build a life in the rubble. We would help our family build theirs.

Together.

* * *

 **This was an emotional chapter. I hope it hit the right tone and you felt how hard not just surviving, but living in this world actually is for the characters. All the things they go through, what they see, what they are forced to do, everyone they've lost...wow, it's astounding. I would love to hear your thoughts!**

 **To answer a question about last chapter, yes, The Waterfall is an actual thing and yes it's actually called that. LOL! The reception on that chapter was pretty low and I'm hoping it was just an off week for everyone and not me missing the mark.**

 **FYI, the song Alex and Deadpool are singing is Demi Lovato's - Sorry Not Sorry.**


	39. Survival of the Fittest

**Survival of the Fittest**

"What's on yur mind?" Daryl asked as we made our way to the covered pavilion where Carol was getting her Iron Chef on. I bit my lip, pulling my ponytail tighter, trying to shake off the funk following me this morning.

"Nothing." Daryl stopped, putting a hand on my arm. I sighed, "I just feel...off."

He frowned. "Ya sick?"

He scanned me from head to toe trying to identify the source of my discomfort.

"No, it's nothing like that."

I looked around the prison. There was a group of people laughing and eating under the pavilion. Carl and Rick were feeding the pigs. A group of kids were hanging out near the fences probably naming the walkers again, and I made a mental note to talk to Carol. She'd taken Lizzie and Mika under her wing because I was a "less than ideal role model" for the scarred young girls. Her words, not mine, not that I disagreed. If anyone could get the eldest sister to snap out of her psychosis it was Carol. Lord knows she didn't listen to a word I said unless it involved a new way to main someone which only proved Carol's point. I grew up with my fair share of issues, but Lizzie was playing on an entirely different level.

I bit my lip, sighing, turning my attention back to the masses. Everyone looked happy and carefree. I too should feel lighthearted. It'd been over a month since we'd had anything even resembling an "incident" and everyone was settling into daily life at the prison. We were making a home here, taking in new survivors, and everyone appeared to be thriving, everyone but me. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't enjoy our reprieve. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. All this happiness made me twitchy.

"It just feels strange."

"Strange," he repeated, not understanding my anxiety.

"Everything is so calm, so domestic, so normal." I waved my hand around at everything and nothing. "We might as well start an HOA."

"And that's bad?"

It wasn't bad per say. Unsettling was a better word for it.

"I can't remember the last time someone tried to kill me?" That was simply unprecedented.

He smirked, "Hate to break it to ya, but most people wouldn't be upset 'bout somethin' like that."

"I know." I never claimed to be normal.

The fact we were even having this conversation was a testament to my abnormality. That Daryl, the once hotheaded, unpredictable hunter was the one patiently talking me through it showed how far he'd come. This was love, I realized. Talking to your husband about the fact you felt weird because someone wasn't shooting at you and having him understand completely.

"'Sides, I heard Merle threatin' to kill ya just yesterday cause ya taped a plastic knife to his stub while he was sleeping."

I chuckled, "Oh yeah, that was great."

Unlike his younger brother who went from deep sleep to 100 mph in the blink of an eye the elder Dixon took a solid 30 minutes to shake off a REM cycle. It took at least another 10 minutes until he was lucid enough to be dangerous. He made it all the way to breakfast before he realized he had a spork taped to his stub. Classic.

Unfortunately for him I didn't take threats to my life seriously when they came from my brother-in-law. Captain Hook chasing me around the prison and screaming in vivid detail what he would do once he got his hands on me did nothing to take my edge off. The elder redneck was slower than a geriatric slug crossing a salted street, but even if he could catch me he'd never hurt me, despite his promises to the contrary.

"Don't always gotta be fightin'," he said softly, stepping into my personal space. I swallowed thickly, looking into his crystal clear blue eyes. "Ain't a bad thing to be safe, to be happy."

"I know that too." He was right. It just wasn't something I had any experience with. I'd been fighting my whole life. It was all I knew. I had no practice with peace. "I'm trying. I just don't know what to do with myself."

Translation, I didn't know where I fit into the world now. Without an enemy to kill, threats to assess, danger to protect my loved ones from, I was essentially useless. I couldn't pull off Suzy Homemaker like Carol. I didn't have an unfailing moral compass like Hershel. I had no idea how to make friends like Maggie and Beth. Every day was chalked full of new experiences I had no way to navigate.

I spent most of my time hunting for food with the Dixons, hunting The Governor with Deadpool, discussing porn with Carol, singing to Nugget, or secretly naming farm animals with Carl. Some days even that didn't settle the unease steadily building inside me, and on those days I found myself outside the fence plowing through a throng of walkers with nothing but my knives.

It was the only way I knew to level myself out, but it didn't come without consequences. The council had strictly forbidden anyone from venturing outside the prison without their expressed consent and even then it was never alone. Truthfully their chastising comments and threats about a prolonged timeout were nothing compared to dealing with my husband when he inevitably found out. I would take a hand slap over an irate redneck in the blink of an eye.

"The run today will help," he promised, pulling me closer and brushing a chaste kiss against my forehead.

"Yeah."

We walked under the pavilion, greeted by a chorus of well-wishers already stuffing their faces with Carol's latest concoction.

"Morning you two."

"What's up Dr. S," Daryl responded, eyes never straying from the piles of food next to Carol. I smiled at the doctor for both of us.

"Hey Submarine."

He grinned back, giving me a friendly nod before turning his attention back to his table.

"Hey Daryl, Alex," a few other's called out as I leaned a hip against the cooking station.

Daryl glanced behind him, forever surprised at the warm reception he received wherever he went. I rolled my eyes, offering each of them a friendly nod or a small smile. I may not talk to any of them, but my grandmother beat manners into me at a young age.

"Smell's good," Daryl commented, practically drooling while Carol smiled at his awkwardness.

Nothing made this woman happier than watching the Dixon brothers epically fail at human interaction. And fail they did.

"Just so you know," Carol grinned mischievously, "I liked you first."

Daryl cleared his throat, eyes flicking to me as he popped a piece of meat in his mouth.

"Stop."

I ignored them both, bending down to inspect the food a little closer. I was more worried about Maggie's participation in today's food preparation than Carol's pretend flirting with my other half. Everyone needed some form of amusement and that was hers. Truth was most of the female population and half of the male ogled Daryl on a daily basis. Turned out redneck was a hot ticket item in the apocalypse.

"Did she help?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to make sure "she" wasn't within ear shot. Maggie's witch doctor abilities included better than average hearing.

"Haven't seen her all morning."

Carol sent me a knowing look complete with a fairly obvious shoulder shimmy.

"Ah, got it," I nodded.

Daryl glanced back-and-forth between us, the meaning behind Carol's statement flying so far over his head he wouldn't be able to catch it with a butterfly net.

"What the hell y'all talkin' 'bout?"

I patted him on the arm with mock sympathy. "They're fucking babe."

"Alex," Carol chastised, lips pursed as several chair legs scrapped against the concrete at once.

"Sorry," I conceded, hands up in surrender as I glanced around the pavilion. "They're making love."

Carol rolled her eyes and Daryl blushed so hard I almost choked on my food from laughing. Not half an hour ago we had our own pants-off, dance-off and nothing we did came close to eliciting such a reaction (and we did some kinky shit), but talk about it for two seconds and he was likely to hide under a rock for the rest of the day. Desperate for a subject change he decided to ponder the reason for the group's obsession.

"You know, Rick brought a lot of 'em in."

"Not recently," Carol reminded him.

Truth was in the last few weeks Rick had done little else but farm in a self-imposed seclusion as he tried to get his shit back together. I heard from Glenn he was even refusing to carry a gun. A fact the council was unwilling to let slide. This one I agreed with wholeheartedly. If it was up to me Nugget would start learning self-defense.

"Alex brought in a few a couple days ago." Carol and I grinned at each other. "What? Ya did."

"I don't look as good in sleeveless shirts babe," I told him absently, wiping grease from my chin.

He gave suns out guns out a whole new meaning. Carol hummed in agreement loving every second of watching his ears turn bright red.

"Giving strangers sanctuary, keeping people fed."

"Looking good enough to eat," I added, admiring his arms unapologetically.

"I'm gonna need you to learn to live with the love," she smiled.

It was a constant battle schooling Daryl on the finer points of being hot as hell.

"Right."

His tone clearly conveyed his disagreement, but as people continued to file into the pavilion, nodding their heads at him, offering a variety of greetings and some not so subtle leering I shook my head. He was on the losing side of this argument.

"I need you two to see something," she said, stepping away from the grill. "Patrick, can you take over."

Patrick, whose name I was pretty sure was actually Peter, was the skinny, 16-year-old with glasses so thick he could see in the future. I'd traumatized him several times since his arrival and he was weary of me on principle, but absolutely adored Daryl and Merle.

Daryl carried the dehydrated kid over a mile back to the prison when he and his brother found him passed out in the woods. Ever since then he'd been stuck in hero worship mode. There were even rumblings of a Daryl Dixon Fan Club, and the smart money said Patrick was a founder/member.

"Yes ma'am." He practically ran to the grill, smile so wide it was disconcerting. The three of us stepped away, but before we could make it out of the pavilion Patrick stopped us. "Mr. and Mrs. Dixon." I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh at the formality. "I just wanted to thank you both for bringing that deer back yesterday."

Carol elbowed me in the ribs when Daryl stared blankly at him and I nodded, speaking up, "No problem Pierce, but that one was all Daryl."

The teenager's eyes bulged out of his head as he stared at his hero, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot with barely contained excitement. Carol coughed discretely to cover her laugh while Daryl's snapped to the side so quickly he probably pulled a muscle.

"Really?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger.

"Yeah," I confirmed, taking a step away from Daryl so he couldn't pinch my side. "Hell of a shot, huh?"

"Man, oh man. It was! Oh man, it really was. I saw the deer when you carried it in. The shot was right between the eyes."

He pointed a single finger between his eyes that were so large I was convinced his glasses were made of magnifying glass. Daryl glowered at me and I knew I would pay for this later, but it was worth it to watch him squirm. If he didn't want me meddling in his fan club then he needed to find someone for me to kill or stop bitching when I went Pulp Fiction on herds of walkers.

The truth was I shot the deer yesterday during our hunting trip. Daryl just carried it back. The 150 pound animal was simply too much for me to realistically carry for any amount of time so he tossed me his crossbow, hefted the dead animal onto his shoulders like it weighted nothing at all, and strolled the two miles back to the prison barely panting under the exertion. Even I fangirled a little over the display of sheer hillbilly hotness. I could just imagine what he looked like stepping out of the woods, an enormous buck on his shoulders, sweat glistening off his impressive biceps. He probably looked like he walked straight off the cover of one of Carol's porn novels.

"It was a real treat sir," Patrick added, swallowing hard, eyes shifting between the three of us. "And I would be honored to shake your hand."

Carol grabbed my hand, squeezing so hard she nearly crushed bone as we watched the hilariously clumsy exchange. Daryl stood immobile, looking at the kid like he was asking for a kidney not a handshake.

"I think that would be lovely," I said in the most serene voice I could muster.

Daryl glared at me, dragging his tongue across his teeth, mentally plotting his revenge. I smiled so big my face hurt. He sighed, obviously seeing no way out other than to shake the kid's hand. In typical Daryl fashion he popped each finger into his mouth, sucking the grease off each finger with exaggerated movements and even sound effects before slapping his slobbery hand into the teens. If he was hoping to discourage the kid's admiration he missed by a mile. Pete looked like he might pass out and for sure he was never washing his hand again.

We left the fan club president to admire his hand, turning to follow Carol, but before I could take two steps Daryl grabbed me around the waist. My body hummed in satisfaction at the feel of his hard body pressed against my back. I might even be purring. The stubble from his beard scratched against my face as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"Yur gonna pay for that later."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Hey you two," Carol yelled, "There are kids around. Keep it PG."

I wasn't going to tell her this, but this was about as PG as we got. With quickness that surprised him I jumped out of his grasp, his hands grasping at air as he tried and failed to regain his hold on me. Wagging my eyebrows at him I walked backwards, smiling evilly.

"I think its sweet you have admirers."

"Stop."

He stalked forward and I kept backtracking, making sure to keep out of his long reach.

"Really, you should run for President. I can see it now." I spread my hands high above my head. "Vote for Daryl Dixon _cause I ain't nobody's bitch_."

I said the last part using my best redneck twang and was rewarding with a laugh from Carol laughed from behind me.

"Can't believe I married ya."

"You complete me."

I pointed at him, drawing an invisible heart with two fingers. He tried, he really did, but he smiled despite his best effort.

"Come on," he said with a half-hearted eye roll, grabbing my hand.

Carol led us over to the edge of the basketball courts overlooking the East side of the prison. I cringed when I saw the buildup of walkers outside the main gate. There were dozens of them converging on one spot, the fence cleaners having a hard time keeping pace as they stabbed them through the fence.

"About today," she started, "I don't know if we're going to be able to spare a lot of people for the run."

"Place is good to go. We gotta move on it," Daryl stated.

There were few places remaining that hadn't been picked clean by looters so finding something relatively untouched was rare. We needed to move fast before someone beat us to it. Our numbers were steadily growing and while that was a good thing it didn't come without challenges. More people meant more mouths to feed, more resources to keep the prison up and running, more of everything.

"Yeah," Carol said, discouraged, "Thing is we had a pretty big build up overnight."

"No night shift?" I asked.

"Council's still thinking it over." I grunted, hands on my hips. The way we attracted walkers I didn't see a solution that didn't involve round-the-clock cleaners, but I wasn't on the council so it wasn't my call. "We got dozens more towards tower three. It's getting as bad as last month. They don't spread out anymore."

I scanned the perimeter, sighing heavily. "I could stay back and..."

"No," they both said in unison.

"Just a suggestion."

I made a mental note to step outside when we got back and take care of tower three.

"With more of us sitting here, we're drawing more of them out." Daryl pointed towards the main gate. "You get enough of those damn fence-clingers, they start to herd up."

"Pushing against the fences again," Carol observed. We'd reinforced the fences with wood and pipes placed at a 45 degree angle to provide additional support, but a herd of any size pushing against it would cause it to topple. "It's manageable, but unless we get ahead of it not for long."

Daryl nodded grimly, the three of us watching the cleaners take out walker after walker. It was a counterproductive operation. We needed cleaners along the fence to make sure the walkers didn't pile up and pull it down, but their mere presence attracted a dozen for every one they killed. Not exactly the best solution, but it was all we had for the moment.

"Sorry Pookie," Carol added and Daryl looked down at her, nudging her with his elbow before walking away. Once he was out of earshot she asked, "You gonna clean it up when you get back?"

"Gonna have to." The fence cleaners were too inefficient to be effective.

"Better hope he doesn't find out."

I raised an eyebrow, "We all have our secrets."

She shrugged at the mention of "story time".

"This is more than you usually take on," she commented and I nodded in agreement.

"If Deadpool makes it back today I'll see if she's up for a field trip." The group of kids a few feet away from the fence cleaners drew my attention. "You talk to Lizzie yet?"

"I tried," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "She won't let go of the idea there's a piece of them that's still human."

"Want me to talk to her?"

Please say no, please say no. I was the last person that should be talking to a fucked up kid about mental stability.

Carol smiled at me, "Nah, I got it. It's my responsibility."

Carol unofficially adopted them because being a mother was in her DNA and I think she saw a little bit of Sophia in every kid. Being their guardian gave her an outlet for her maternal instincts.

We made our way back towards the pavilion and I cringed. There was too much smoke coming from the grill for anything good to be happening.

"Take care of yourself out there." She pulled me into a brief hug.

"Always do," I said, hugging her back.

"Look out for Pookie too."

"As if you have to ask." She laughed, releasing me. "I'm not sure Pedro could handle it if I didn't bring him back in one piece."

"His name's Patrick."

Wasn't that what I said? She snorted at my confusion. The teenager turned at the sound of his name, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke, glasses fogging up.

"What?" he coughed.

"Nothing," I smiled. "Looking good."

He grinned, using a finger like a windshield wiper to clear the mist from his lenses. I gave him a thumbs up, picking up my pack from the picnic table and hoisting it onto one shoulder. I tossed it into the passenger seat of the truck as Daryl checked the gas cans in the back.

"What's his name again?" I asked him, pointing at Happy Go Lucky who was tossing a shotgun into the bed of the truck. "Trevor, Kevin, Michael..."

"Zach," Daryl corrected with a heavy sigh.

"Right, Zach."

There were so many new people I couldn't keep them all straight, mainly because I didn't care. He was with us on the infamous pig hunt if I remembered correctly. No wonder I didn't know his name. My subconscious had blocked out that entire day for self-preservation reasons.

"When's Merle due back?"

The elder Dixon left on a hunting trip early this morning, alone despite the council's rule against it. The politically correct answer for the breach in protocol was Daryl and I were the only other hunters and we were both scheduled for the run this afternoon. The real answer was no one but the two of us could be trusted to be alone with the man and not kill him.

"Not till late," he answered, checking his arrows. "Tracks we found few days ago lead a ways out. Gonna take him time to make it out there and back, 'specially with all the walkers."

If he was worried about his brother I couldn't detect it. I was beginning to believe him when he said the only thing that could kill Merle was Merle. In all the time I'd known him his closest brushes with death were his own damn fault.

Zach smiled when he saw Beth approaching, the youngest Greene daughter smiling back as she walked right up and kissed him. I scratched my head, wondering if Hershel or Maggie were aware of all the tongue action these two were engaging in. The old man blew a gasket when I said ass. He was likely to go nuclear if he knew his youngest daughter was inspecting some kid's tonsils.

"What's all this?" I asked, slapping Daryl on the chest to get his attention. "Is she even old enough for all that?"

I waved my hand in front of me while they continued to neck. And people said I lacked decorum. Daryl grunted something I couldn't translate, resuming his inspection of the gas cans, unconcerned with their dry humping. I leaned against the truck, watching Zach explain why he volunteered for the run. Beth listened, her face impassive as the young man fidgeted, trying several times to explain the danger. She nodded, unfazed by his venture outside the prison which clearly disappointed him. It was fascinating to watch. Beth smiled at him, leaning in to give him an innocent peck on the cheek before walking off without a backward glance. Zach looked thoroughly disappointed at her reaction or lack thereof.

"OK, you gonna say goodbye?" he asked.

It was obvious from his tone he expected a much different reaction than the one he was getting. I bet he'd been reading Carol's "novels". I hadn't read them all, but in the ones I'd skimmed (devoured) when the men folk left to protect the castle the women threw themselves at their feet and "worshiped" them prior to leaving. Clearly Beth's idea of "worship" and Zach's were very different.

"Nope."

I laughed at her response, holding up my hand. She slapped it when she passed, giving me a high-five.

"You go girl," I grinned while Daryl eyed Zach with no sympathy whatsoever.

"It's like a damn romance novel," he grumbled. I gave him a pointed look.

"You were singing a different tune this morning."

Daryl's face was like stone, giving nothing away, Zach blushing hard beside him. My husband's idea of "worship" was exactly like Carol's books, and I had no issue with that whatsoever. Our lighthearted convo was interrupted by Bob asking Sasha to accompanying us on the run.

Merle and Daryl found Bob about a week ago on a hunting trip turned rescue mission. He was the sole survivor after a herd decimated his former group and lived alone on the road for an unspecified period of time before the Dixon brothers found him. I didn't know much about him other than he served briefly in the Army as a medic. You'd think given my background that would give us some common ground, but something about the man didn't sit right with me. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, telling myself he needed time to adjust to living at the prison, but something about it rang hallow. He was hiding something. I just wasn't sure what.

Sasha tried to dissuade him from feeling obligated to come, but he pressed the issue, giving her a shy smile that made me snort. If he was hoping to woo her into letting him go he was delusional. As far as I could tell the eldest Williams sibling was competent, blunt and un-woo-able.

She was a petite woman, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in ferocity. Daryl mentioned she was a firefighter in her former life, and that made perfect sense. She was a pragmatic woman with a no-nonsense personality.

"Whatcha think?" Daryl asked, leaning closer.

I wasn't on the council, so my opinion shouldn't matter, but I was an expert at reading people. If for any reason I felt he shouldn't be with us Daryl would step in and squash the notion immediately.

"See the way his hands are twitching and he can't stand still?" I nodded my head and Daryl squinted, eyes honed in on the newcomer. When he nodded I added. "That's not nerves. He's hiding something."

"Question is what?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Only one way to find out."

Daryl walked off, eyeing Bob up-and-down. "We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy."

"He was a medic in the Army," Glenn added.

Sasha's face gave nothing away as she considered his request.

"You're a hell of a tough sell," Bob smiled, trying to lighten the mood and that was the whole problem. He was trying _too_ hard.

"OK," Sasha relented, climbing into her car without further comment.

I walked towards Daryl's bike, passing Bob on the way. He gave me a friendly nod I didn't return, simply eyeing him critically. Too eager my mind screamed. No one _wanted_ to leave the safety and security of the prison. We did it because we had to, yet here he was, practically salivating with need. I swung my leg over the bike, sliding forward and wrapping my arms around Daryl's waist. He wasted no time twisting the throttle, heading towards the main gate just as Deadpool rode through on Bitsy. Daryl slowed to a stop before cutting the engine.

"Well, well, looks who's back."

I slide off the bike, smiling at my friend who begrudgingly smiled back as we hugged.

"Long time no see Deadpool."

"Yeah, took longer than I thought." I nodded, her eyes flicking back to Daryl. "I didn't find him." That much was obvious. If she had she would have come though the fence dragging his dead body behind her. "I'm thinking of looking near Macon."

I looked at the ground, pressing my lips together hard to keep from commenting. Daryl, Merle and Deadpool were obsessed with finding The Governor and I understood their motivations, but there was a thin line between being thorough and obsession.

When no one answered she ground out, "It's worth a shot."

"Seventy miles of walkers," Daryl mused, the voice of reason in a sea of unreasonableness. "And you might run into a few un-neighborly types."

He paused to let it sink in, my shoulders stiffening. Deadpool's eyes went hard, remembering the time just over a month ago when the two of us ran into just that type.

"Is it?" I made my way back to the bike in an effort to combat the uncomfortable silence, climbing on as Daryl turned his attention to Rick. "We're gonna go check out the Big Spot. Ya know, the one I was talkin' 'bout? Just gonna see."

He was offering Rick a spot on the run, a spot he clearly didn't want.

"Yeah, I gotta go out and check the snares. I don't want to lose whatever we catch to the walkers."

I kept my eyes firmly on Daryl's angel wings, listening to Rick's explanation for the pass. I understood his need for a break. It was his hesitation that gave me pause. Behind the fences he was relatively safe despite his reluctance to violence, but there may come a time when he wasn't afforded that luxury anymore. If that day came and he hesitated, he died.

"I'll go," Deadpool sneered, frustrated at our lack of belief she could hunt down The Governor.

"You just got here," Carl pleaded, not wanting her gone again so soon.

The two had become close after the near disastrous ammo run. When I heard what he'd done I could have strangled him for risking his life for a picture. Thankfully Deadpool took her vow to protect him as seriously as I did.

"And I'll be back," she promised with a grin she reserved just for Carl.

Daryl started the bike, slapping Rick on the arm as we headed out. The Big Spot wasn't far from the prison. The United Stated Marine Corp used it as an impromptu base at some point in the beginning of the outbreak. It wasn't the sanctuary they hoped it would be and was quickly overrun by walkers.

"Army came and put these fences up," Daryl explained to Bob, the group hovering on the outskirts of the Big Spot parking lot. "Gave a place for people to go." More accurately it gave people a place to die. "Last week when we spotted this place there were a bunch of walkers behind this chain link keepin' people out like a bunch of guard dogs."

"So they all just left?" Bob asked.

"Give a listen," Sasha said with pride.

It was her idea to rig up a boombox a few blocks away to draw the walkers off. You could just hear the faint sounds of the Footloose soundtrack playing in the distance. I swallowed passed the lump in my throat as Glenn gave me a sympathetic smile. The last time I heard this music the situation was very different.

"You drew them out?" Deadpool asked, obviously impressed.

"Put a boombox up there three days ago."

"Rigged it up to two car batteries," Glenn added.

He was irrationally happy when it worked, plans for the iPod he still totted around finally taking shape.

"Let's get this shitshow on the road," I said bitterly, striding passed everyone and through the gaping hole in the fence, taking care not to touch the metal coated in walker blood.

"Your wife is charming."

Sasha's comment fell flat, no one laughing and I could only imagine the look she was getting from Daryl. Sasha fit in good at the prison, but to the core group she was still an outsider and outsiders didn't get to make funnies about non-outsiders.

"Let's make a sweep," Daryl instructed, following behind me. "Make sure it's safe. Grab what you can. We'll come back tomorrow with more people."

I carefully scanned the area, PPQ raised, finger resting against the slide. I didn't hear anything and walkers were notorious mouth breathers so I crept forward with cautious optimism. The military issue tents were still standing with cots everywhere, most covered in blood, some with rotting corpses. There were medical supplies strewn across the ground and a healthy dose of shell casings. At the front of the Big Spot I peered through the dirty windows as Daryl pounded on it to attract the walkers that were no doubt waiting inside.

"Just give it a second," he told the group, the two of us sitting down on the window ledge to wait.

"OK, I think I got it," Zach smiled as Daryl and I looked at him. Oh lord, here we go.

"Got what?" Deadpool asked.

"Oh, I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn."

"He's been tryin' to guess for like six weeks," Daryl scoffed and I grinned.

The kid had guessed everything from mechanic to bar tender, and taken each loss in stride.

"I'm pacing myself," Zach offered, trying to explain his impressive losing streak. "One shot a day."

"What about Alex?" Deadpool questioned, pointing at me.

"Oh, I already know what she did."

Daryl froze beside me, fingers curling around his crossbow.

"You do?" she asked in obvious disbelief.

Her eyes shifted to mine and I nodded at her, body relaxed, face impassive. I searched through one of Daryl's 300 pockets, fishing out a tube of sunscreen and applying a generous portion to every exposed body part. If I didn't I was likely to look like the meat Patrick burned at breakfast.

"Yeah." Zach looked around, puzzled by their reaction. I hadn't told Deadpool the details of my former profession, but she wasn't an idiot. Zach on the other hand... "She was a flight attendant." Deadpool snorted and Daryl's face shifted from shock to mild amusement. "I know, I didn't believe it either, but she knew everything about all these different places. And they weren't your typical vacation destinations so it just makes sense. Why else would she be there?"

Why else indeed.

"Like where?" Deadpool inquired, clearly amused at Zach's ignorance.

He tapped a finger against his chin in thought. "Well, there was Dubai, Turkey, Russia. Man, she's been almost everywhere."

Daryl turned to look at me, eyebrows somewhere in his hairline, but I ignored him.

"Don't forget Pakistan."

He snapped his fingers, "That's right!"

Zach started the guessing game with me just before Daryl. In an effort to shut the kid up I confessed to being a flight attendant. He'd clearly been misled in the past so he was hesitant to believe my admission, but after 10 minutes of detail rich stories about all the "exotic places" I'd traveled he was hooked. Truth was I hadn't lied to Zach about spending time in any of those places, only about the reason for being there in first place.

I was sent to Dubai to uncover a sex trafficking ring run by a wealthy oil tycoon. Normally that wasn't the kind of thing the CIA got involved with, but his close ties to several important U.S. politicians made his illicit activities especially troubling. The man had a habit of dipping his pen in the company ink and a thing for powerful women so playing the role of a wealthy American CEO from a budding company looking for investors was easy enough to play. It took six months to locate his supply channels, figure out how he was smuggling the woman in and out of the country, identify all the major players, and accumulate enough evidence to get the official go ahead to "eliminate the problem". Six months of avoiding his hands on my ass, outright propositions and putrid garlic breath. Putting a bullet in his brain was my gift to woman everywhere.

Turkey was far less luxurious and much harder to stomach. One of our own had gone turncoat, making a living as an arms dealer selling to anyone with a big enough bank account. When he made a particularly troubling sell to the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, more commonly known as ISIL, the agency stepped in to clean up their mess. My orders were simple, find and kill him. It took me three months to track him down and another two to secure a meeting posing as a representative of an up-and-coming terrorist faction known as the PKK, all the while navigating a country being torn apart by an impending civil war that would boil over in the coming months. Matt was the first person I killed that I knew personally. We weren't friends, we were barely co-workers, but he wasn't an absolute stranger. He didn't look surprised when I cornered him in a bombed out district of the city. He never flinched when I forced him to his knees, pressing a gun to the back of his head. My hands shook when I pulled the trigger, ending his life in a sleazy back-alley thousands of miles from home. I threw up next to his body after it was done.

The nicest thing I could say about Russia was that it was fucking cold, especially in the dead of winter. An entourage of American diplomats were in the country hoping to achieve a lasting nuclear proliferation treaty between several super powers. Intelligence sources indicated an assassination attempt was possible, if not probable, on the Secretary of State during the summit. Normally that was the kind of thing the Secret Service handled, but that was only if you were interested in protection and prevention. I was sent in with orders to capture and interrogate the assassin. We needed to know why, and more importantly who, was behind an attempt on one of the highest ranking members of the President's cabinet. It took four cracked ribs and a shattered wrist to catch him then 16 days of enhanced interrogation to break him. The bullet to his head wast the closest thing to mercy I could offer.

Pakistan was worse than all of them combined. The state-sponsored terrorism made setting foot in the country dangerous for any American. Operating covertly as an American spy with no way to tell friend from foe was impossible. My mission was straightforward; eliminate a terrorist cell responsible for a rash of London bombings. I succeeded, but the cost was high. An informant sold me out to save his family, and as a result I spent two months in a Pakistani prison with jailers who didn't care for the car bombs I used to kill their buddies. I was branded an infidel and punished for my crimes to subvert the jihad. Needless to say I'd had better months. I was extracted by a team of Navy Seals after nine weeks, four days and 26 hours, or so I was later told. I coded once on the flight to the naval carrier waiting off shore and again at an Army hospital in Germany.

"It was a grueling, but rewarding job," I hummed with a thoughtful tap on my chin.

"Uh huh."

Zach may have bought my lie, but Deadpool wasn't having it.

Daryl just looked sad. He'd heard bits and pieces of the Dubai and Russia stories, but never Turkey and certainly not Pakistan. I didn't need to tell him with words what my body told him with scars. The faint line on my left wrist that was slightly raised and paler than the rest of my skin outlined in vivid detail the surgery to reset my shattered wrist. He could feel the metal plate held in place by nine titanium screws. The lash marks on my back and the knife wounds littering my chest told a detailed story of my captivity. He ground his teeth together as he looked at me, taking a measured breath before addressing Zach.

"Alright shoot."

Zach beamed, missing the obvious tension in the air. Oh, to be young and stupid.

"Well, the way you are at the prison, you being on the council, you're able to track, you're helping people, but you're still being kinda surly." Deadpool grinned and I tilted my head back, laughing. "Big swing here," he said with a wave of his finger. Oh, I could not wait for this. "Homicide cop."

I kept my face impassive, nodding like Zach's ridiculous guess made perfect sense. Deadpool on the other hand couldn't contain her amusement.

"What's so funny?" Daryl asked.

"Nothing," Deadpool smirked, "It makes perfect sense."

"Actually, the man's right." How he managed to keep a straight face was a mystery. The man would make an excellent spy. "Undercover," he added.

Zach looked at him with skepticism, raising his eyebrows in question.

"It's true," I confirmed, the kids expression priceless. "Why do you think he's such a good shot?"

"Come on, really?" he asked us both. I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Yep," Daryl agreed, eyes going distant in fake contemplation. I fell in love with him all over again. Turned out I wasn't the only one who got somewhat mischievous when bored. "I mean, I don't like to talk 'bout it cause it was a lot of heavy shit, ya know?"

Zach's face was dead serious, mouth hanging open in shock . The kid looked at Daryl, then me, then Deadpool.

"Dude, come on, really?" Daryl just stared at him, giving him the infamous Dixon smirk before he dropped his head, embarrassed by his own naivety. "Oh, OK," he gave me a droll look that only made me smile harder. "I'll just keep guessing."

"You do that," Daryl nodded.

A walker slammed into the window with a snarl and I stood, stretching. "Time to go to work."

"We gonna do this detective?" Deadpool asked, sending Zach a pointed look he studiously ignored. Kid wasn't living this down anytime soon.

"Let's do it."

Daryl grabbed a pair of bolt cutters, walking to the entry. I pulled a pair of knives from my waist, twirling one in my hand as I took up a position on one side of the door.

"Michonne and Red will go in first, clear out the entry. Glenn, Sasha and me will cover 'em from behind. Tyreese, Bob, Zach, y'all watch our backs."

"Got it," Glenn replied for the group, adjusting his riot gear and taking aim a few feet back. Deadpool drew her sword, standing opposite me.

"First one to ten wins?" I asked.

"You're on," she smiled.

"It ain't how many ya kill Red. It's 'bout stayin' safe," Daryl chastised, an edge to his voice he only got when I was directly in the line of fire.

"He sounds like a cop, right?" I glanced over my shoulder looking for confirmation from the group.

"Yeah." Glenn.

"He does." Tyresee.

"Little bit." Sasha.

"Fuck off," Daryl snarled with a deadly glare.

"Pop the locks officer. Let's get this show on the road." He turned his venomous glare on me, but it had no effect. "I love you too Katniss."

He muttered something that sounded like "batshit crazy" as he cut the locks, pushing the door open and stepping back quickly, crossbow raised. The dead surged forward with a collective snarl and I felt myself relax for the first time in days. I wasted no time grabbing the shirt collar of a walker, plunging my knife into its head before quickly tossing the body to the ground and focusing on the next. I kicked, slashed, twirled and ducked, fighting my way further into the store, leaving a trail of the dead at my feet.

The longer I fought the looser my muscles got, adrenaline surging. I ran forward, sliding on my knees under the outstretched arms of a particularly nasty walker. Jumping up behind him I slammed my knife into the base of his skull, the blade easily sinking into the hilt he was so decayed.

A growl erupted behind me and I abandoned the knife, drawing another quickly. I flipped the blade in my hand, holding the razor sharp weapon and bringing it up to my ear. The walker advancing on me snarled, slobber pouring out of her rotten mouth. I threw the knife, the blade flying true, embedding itself in the walker's forehead right between the eyes. She dropped to the floor with a wet smack and I looked to my right and left, scanning the store for more.

I was somewhat disappointed it was already over. The only sound my ragged breathing and pounding heart. Bending down I put a foot on the walker's forehead, pulling my knife out and wiping the blade on her clothes before sliding it into the sheath. When I turned around Zach, Tyreese and Sasha stood motionless in the door, faces ashen. Hershel said it was these kinds of displays that made people uncomfortable around me. It wasn't my fault they couldn't handle my awesomeness.

"Flight attendant my ass," Zach mumbled, trying to navigate a path through the gore coating the floor. Ignoring him I counted the dead walkers.

"Twelve," I yelled to Deadpool.

She didn't look happy and I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.

"Nine," she replied dejectedly.

"Night watch for a week my friend." She looked like she wanted to skewer me so I took a measured step behind Officer Dixon. "Now, now, nobody likes a sore loser."

"Told ya to stop," Daryl muttered to her, picking up the feet of a walker and pulling him aside.

"I almost had her."

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," I sing-songed, rummaging through a checkout counter for cigarettes and gum. One for the hubby the other for Carl.

"Alright." Sasha cleared her throat when her voice broke a little. "We go in, do a sweep, after that you all know what you're supposed to look for." The only thing on my list was cigarettes, gum and condoms. "Questions?"

I pushed the cart as Daryl and I browsed our assigned isles. My face light up like Christmas when I saw the condoms lining the shelf. I snagged them without looking, tossing them over my shoulder into the basket as fast as I could. I felt Daryl's eyes on me and stopped, glancing at him.

"What?"

He examined the ever growing pile of contraceptives, scratching his forehead in quiet contemplation.

"Got big plans Red?"

"You have no idea Netiryi."

We weren't the only people having sex at the prison, and unbelievably I'd heard more than a few women talking about "letting nature takes its course". For me, nature was ending in a latex tube. Carl and Nugget were the most precious things in the world, but I was in no way ready for motherhood. Squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a garden hose did not sound like fun. Plus, child rearing in today's world was hazardous to everyone's health.

There was a loud crash, followed by a muffled scream and glass shattering a few rows over. Leaving our cart behind we ran, weapons ready. We found Bob pinned beneath a shelf that was lined with booze.

"You a'right?" Daryl asked shinning a flashlight at the man. "Ya cut or somethin'?"

"Nah man, but my foot is caught."

"A'right, help me out." Zach, Tyreese and Daryl pulled on the shelf, lifting it up, someone inquiring if we were alright from the other side of the store.

"We're fine," I answered.

"We're over in wine and beer."

My eyebrows furrowed while I watched the men work to free Bob. Why was he in the wine and beer section? I may not have the most up-to-date shopping list, but booze wasn't on any of them much to Merle's disappointment.

Bob laughed off the incident, peddling some lame story about the shelf falling of its own accord, but I wasn't listening. Something dripped from the ceiling, hitting me on the shoulder. I grimaced, rubbing the tacky substance between my fingers. There was a groaning sound directly above us and my ears perked up as I looked at the ceiling.

"Do you hear that?" I asked no one in particular. Daryl went still beside me, swinging his flashlight left and right, his hunter ears perking up. "It's coming from the roof."

His flashlight swung skyward just when the roof caved in a few feet away, a walker falling through, its intestines getting tangled in the buildings metal frame. Daryl's arm snapped out, pushing me back, both of us watching in horror.

"Yeah, uh, we should probably go now," Glenn stuttered, eyeing the walker who was snapping and snarling at us despite hanging by his entrails.

"I second that," I mumbled, hearing what sounded like feet shuffling above us.

"Bob's still stuck."

"Help me get him out."

"Someone grab the other side."

Everyone was talking at once, moving left and right, but my eyes stayed glued to the ceiling. My gut clenched with apprehension, an ominous feeling so thick it felt like it was pushing in on me from all sides. We weren't short on time. We were out of it.

Another walker crashed through the ceiling on the opposite end of the store. He slapped against the ground with a wet thwack, everyone freezing for a half second in shock, waiting to see if anymore would come. Two more immediately fell one right after the other, hissing as they hit the ground and immediately trying to stand. Then all of a sudden it was raining walkers. They fell from seemingly everywhere, smashing into shelf's, toppling stacks of beer and slamming into shopping cats.

"We need to move!" I shouted over the mayhem, grabbing Daryl's vest and yanking him out of the way before one fell on top of him. A body hit the ground inches from me, disintegrating into a pile of blood, bone and bodily fluid. "God I hate it when they do that."

"Go!" Daryl shoved me forward, both of us struggling to keep our footing in the mass of blood and gore coating the floor.

My gut clenched in fear when I saw Glenn on the ground a few feet away pinned down by two walkers. I screamed his name, running forward as I pulled a knife and threw it. The blade slammed into the head of the walkers on top of him, but I didn't break stride, diving over the top of him and tackling the one about to take a bite out of his ankle.

I crashed into the walker, my momentum causing us to skid across the floor. Daryl's desperate cry of outrage was drowned out by the ensuing mayhem in the Big Spot. I shoved the walkers face into the floor from my position on top, trying to avoid his razor sharp teeth. We collided with a wall, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact against a metal shelf. I pressed a knee against the walker's face using my foot to restrain his one arm while I grabbed a knife and stabbed him in the head. He went still beneath me and rolled off, the smell of decay so overwhelming I almost puked.

"Alex!" Glenn shouted, struggling to his feet. He helped me up, looking me over quickly. "You good?"

"Gotta be."

He smirked, eyes going serious. "Thanks."

"Thank me later," I said, pushing him to the side as I drew my PPQ and fired at a walker sneaking up behind him. "We're not out of this yet."

"We have to get find the others and get out of here."

"I have to find Daryl." He looked around wildly, the sound of fighting deafening. "I'm not leaving without him," I insisted, my desperation escalating when I didn't see him anywhere. "Find whoever you can and get them out."

He nodded curtly, sprinting off towards the sound of someone shooting and I fired another two rounds at walkers, making my way back to the last place I saw Daryl. I heard Bob screaming for help and methodically worked my way to the beer and wine section. When I rounded a corner my heart plummeted. My husband was marooned on a beer display surrounded by walkers directly under the quickly collapsing roof.

"Daryl!" I shouted, firing five rounds in quick succession as he climbed further up the display to get away from the walkers.

I kept shooting, trying to clear a path for him, but there were so many. Suddenly Glenn rounded the corner, taking out three and screaming for Daryl to go as the ceiling above him gave way. I gaped in astonishment, tilting my head to the side, trying to reconcile a freakin' helicopter falling through the freakin' ceiling.

Daryl jumped off the display, narrowly missing a walker. I shot at one to his left he didn't see before he slide to a stop in front of me. I grabbed his vest, pulling it aside and inspecting his body. My shoulders relaxed marginally when I was sure he was unscathed. A walker popped up behind him and I fired without thinking. At the exact same time he raised his hand, firing at something behind me. We both turned around, looking at the dead walkers then at each other.

"I'm fine," we said together, smiling quickly before turning around and putting putting our backs to each other.

Zach killed a walker creeping towards the overturned shelf, yelling, "Get Bob!"

Daryl reached down, dragging the walker away, stomping on his head. I ran to the shelf, Zach close behind and we strained to lift the enormous piece of furniture. Daryl grabbed Bob, pulling on the man until he finally sprang free of his trap, the shelf clattering to the ground.

What little remained of the ceiling started crashing down and I put my hands over my head trying to shield myself from falling debris. I heard a heart stopping scream and turned just in time to see a walker take a chunk out of Zach's calf. He fell forward, pure agony etched on his young face, the walker climbing over the top of him and biting into his cheek.

"Zach!" I screamed, trying to run back for him, but Daryl's arms locked around my waist, restraining me. "Let me go!"

Zach's screams were the stuff of nightmares, the walker chewing through muscle and sinew like butter. I fought Daryl's impenetrable hold, trying to help the kid, but it was no use.

"He's gone Red."

He lifted me off my feet, turning me away from the scene. I saw the others backtracking out of the store, sadness on their faces as we were forced to listen to Zach's agonizing death.

"We can't do nothin' for him."

"We can't leave him like that."

His squeals of pain made me sick to my stomach, but when a large portion of the ceiling fell mere inches from us he was done debating. He picked me up, my feet only touching the ground a few times in our hasty retreat. We made it outside just before the building caved in completely, a billow of white dust and smoke following us into the parking lot. Clear of the structure and any immediate danger everyone stopped, eyes locked on what had been the Big Spot only moments ago, but was now nothing but rubble.

"I'm good," I insisted, hands raised in the air as a show of submission, head bowed. Daryl released me, but stayed close, eyes roaming all over my body looking for injuries. "I'm good," I repeated, answering his unspoken question.

He nodded, looking at Sasha. "Need to get the hell outta here b'fore more of 'em show up."

She agreed and everyone wordlessly made their way to the vehicles, nothing to show for the run but loss of life. My throat went dry when I thought of Zach's screams and the fact we had to tell Beth her boyfriend was dead. I hoped she didn't ask if he suffered because I wasn't sure I could lie to her. Daryl's hand covered mine as we sat on the bike, waiting for everyone to get in the cars.

"You good?" he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder.

"Gotta be."

"Red."

It was amazing how much meaning he could pack into a one syllable word.

"He was just a kid," I added, resting forehead on his back. "He didn't deserve to die like that."

"No one ever does."

He pressed a quick kiss to the back of my hand as Sasha laid on the horn behind us. He gave me one last squeeze before letting go and twisting the throttle. The ride back to the prison was too short and before I knew it we were unloading.

"I'll tell Beth," I mumbled, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Nah, I'll do it." I turned to Daryl, giving him a questioning look. "Ya done enough Red. I'll take care of it." He cupped my face in his hands, brushing his lips against mine. "I'll see ya after."

I nodded, grateful beyond words he was shouldering this responsibility. Beth was a tough young woman, but delivering the news her boyfriend was dead wasn't something I wanted to face, especially for the second time. I sat down on the bleachers next to the basketball court, in no hurry to go inside. There would be questions about today, mourning and a general sadness drifting through the prison and I wanted to avoid it as long as possible.

I watched the setting sun. The weight of today's loss was heavy on my shoulders. The phrase survival of the fittest rattling around in my brain on an endless loop. Life behind our rickety fences was deceiving. We believed we were safe here, but the reality of the world hadn't changed. There was no such thing as safety anymore. It didn't matter how sturdy your walls were or how long you avoided a death, it was always there, constantly lurking, ready to strike when you least expected it. The thought made my heart sad for reasons I didn't understand. I may not have any experience with peace, but it didn't stop me from longing for it. Sadly, I didn't think it would be something I lived to see.

Merle appeared out of thin air, dragging me out of my own head. He plopped down beside me, leaning back against the bleachers and crossing his feet at the ankle.

"Heard ya lost the kid." I nodded, arms braced on my legs, staring straight ahead. "Life's a punch in the dick sometimes."

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. "Very poetic."

"Call 'em like I see 'em." A coughing fit wracked my body and I rubbed my chest, a headache burning behind my eyes. "Sound like shit."

"It's nothing." I coughed again, hacking up half a lung before I got it under control. Merle sat up, eyes narrowed to slits. "It's all the dust from the building," I assured him.

He grunted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Hope so, can't have ya getting' sick lil' sister."

"Haven't you heard?" I grinned at him, "Dixon's don't get sick."

"And why's that?" he chuckled, leaning over and bumping my shoulder.

"Cause we ain't nobody's bitch."

* * *

 **This chapter officially kicks off Season 4. Lots going on plus you get a little more information about Alex's past. What did you guys think? A lot happens in the next few chapters, the flu, The Governor, Terminus...**

 **I hope y'all are excited. I would love to hear from you!**


	40. A Plague Upon Our House

**A Plague Upon Our House**

Predictably I slept like absolute dog shit that night. Between the nightmares and the coughing I was lucky to get a couple of hours the entire night. When Rick's alarm went off at six o'clock sharp I groaned, rolling over and snuggling further into Daryl's side as he lazily flung an arm over my waist.

"I'm smashing that thing," I moaned, my throat scratchy, "I mean it this time."

Who set an alarm clock in the apocalypse? Rick Grimes, that's who. Weirdo with a capital W that one.

Daryl rolled on top of me, forearms braced on either side of my head as his body sank into mine. I hummed in satisfaction, hooking a leg around his waist.

"Should get some more sleep."

"Then you shouldn't be enticing me with your hotness," I replied, running my fingers through his hair.

It was getting long and I made a mental note to bug him until he let me cut it. He sighed in contentment, leaning down and covering his mouth with mine. When his tongue brushed against my lower lip I decided we weren't getting out of bed until closer to six p.m. This a.m. crap was for the birds. The need for oxygen pulled us apart as he traced a finger down the side of my face.

"Yur beautiful."

I snorted, "I have morning breath and bed head. You need higher standards Dixon."

He kissed me again, passionately, showing me the truth of his declaration. My entire body tingled with a need I'd never known until him. He kissed me like I was his entire world, his everything. It stole my breath away and made my heart swell to the point of bursting.

"Yur the most beautiful woman I ever seen," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion and his body hard with longing. "I'm the luckiest sumbitch in the world."

I pulled him back down, kissing him hard. He was my everything just as I was his. He walked into my life and I was a better person for it. He was everything I thought about, everything I needed, everything I wanted. He was someone who helped me forget my past, gave me hope for the future and taught me to love with all my heart. I was never letting him go, ever.

I kissed the corner of his mouth, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Remember that the next time I do something that makes you go a little crazy."

"I'll try," he smirked, rolling off me and standing up. He snorted in amusement when I whimpered in protest, but frowned when it turned into yet another coughing fit. "How long ya had that now?"

"Since a building almost fell on my head."

I sat up, swinging my feet to the ground and taking the water bottle he held out. Now that I was sitting up it was a little easier to breathe.

"Should have Hershel take a look at ya." I pursed my lips, watching him exchange a filthy sleeveless shirt for a dirty sleeveless shirt. "Don't gimme that look."

"What look?" I asked innocently, standing up and stretching like a cat. "You mean the look I gave you at the Storage Depot that you stubbornly ignored and then almost died because I was right and you were wrong. Was that the look you were referring to?"

He tossed my jeans in my face. "Nah, it's the other one."

"Uh huh."

We dressed side-by-side, brushing our teeth together at the sink as we handed the water bottle back-and-forth. It was almost domestic if you ignored the fact we were doing it in a prison cell. He poked me in the side so I stepped on his foot, playground foreplay.

Suddenly he pushed me against the wall, hands going under my ass as he hoisted me up, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He ground his hips into me and all joking ceased. I moaned in pleasure not the least bit ashamed at the wanton noises I was making. I arched my back, pressing my breasts against his chest and he growled in appreciation, licking and nipping his way up my neck as I pulled on his hair, urging him closer. Why had we gotten out of bed?

"Good question," he murmured, his enormous hand caressing my breast.

When he pinched my nipple between his deft fingers I lost the ability to form words, other than _yes, please_ and _don't stop_. Those I could say just fine. Out of nowhere an alarm ripped through the cellblock and we froze. There was only one reason someone would set off an alarm in the cellblocks.

Walkers.

Daryl released me as we sprang into action, haphazardly throwing on clothes, tossing each other weapons and racing out of our cell. There was nothing amiss in our cellblock so that meant the distress call was coming from Cellblock D. Everyone was rushing around, gathering weapons, shouting back-and-forth, trying to identify the threat and respond.

I leaned over the railing and saw Merle holding out a rifle for Sasha. "What happened?"

"Don't know," he answered, face grim. "Nothin' good."

"Fuck this," I ground out, eyeing the congestion on the stairs and mayhem on the first floor as everyone ran around like farm animals without heads or whatever.

I ran down the catwalk, away from the stairs, but closer to the exit out of the cellblock. I didn't have time for the bottleneck bullshit. I never broke stride as I hopped over the railing.

"Red, don't ya fuckin' dare!"

Hopefully he would remember I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen because I was about to piss him off royally. I didn't hesitate as I jumped to the lower level. My feet slammed into the ground and I tucked into a roll to lessen the impact. I was up and out the door before Daryl's roars of outrage reached my ears.

Remember babe, I'm pretty and you love me. Say it with me.

I bypassed the stairs, jumping to the ground and turning the corner just as Mika and Lizzie emerged, tears streaking down their face as they cried about walkers in the cellblock. I barreled passed them screaming at them to get to C and stay there. All the children save Carl and Nugget lived in D. There were a handful of adults sprinkled in, but they didn't have the firepower or skills to combat a walker infestation of any size. I ran into the cell with my PPQ in one hand and a knife in the other, narrowly avoiding a shotgun blast to the face.

"Watch where you're shooting that thing jackass!" I shouted, firing at a walker running at me.

I jumped over two bodies, throwing myself deeper into the cell, killing a walker stalking two children. It was utter chaos inside the cellblock and my eyes watered, my headache flaring painfully. I threw my knife into the back of a walker's head who looked a lot like one of the Woodbury refugees. What in the ever loving fuck was going on?

I pushed a woman and two children into a cell, slamming the door shut just as a walker dove at me. I pivoted on my heel, shoving the barrel of my gun into her wide open mouth and pulling the trigger. People were moving in all directions and it was difficult to tell friend from foe as every walker I killed bore the face of someone who just yesterday had been very much alive.

I picked up a young boy crying on the ground, back peddling away from a walker about to bite his arm. An arrow impaled the side of his head and his body dropped like dead weight. I swallowed hard as Daryl ran forward, taking the kid from my arms and handing him off to Karen.

"Upstairs," I said and he nodded as I watched Merle sink his stub knife into a walker's eye. "Come on Captain Hook."

The three of us made our way upstairs, Daryl and I peeling off in opposite directions to check the individual cells as Merle inspected a body slumped at the top of the stairs. I stopped in front of a white curtain, swallowing hard as I reached forward, but before I could pull it back a walker attacked. My PPQ fell from my hand, clattering against the metal walkway.

"Down!" Daryl yelled and I instantly dropped to the ground as an arrow whizzed over my head, killing the walker. He ran up, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.

"I'm good."

Rick jogged up the stairs, raising his eyebrows at me in question. I gave him a curt nod, my body feeling uncharacteristically weak given the brevity of the fight. He returned my nod before kneeling down to inspect the walker.

"Ah damn, it's Patrick."

That made no sense. Just yesterday he was fangirling over Daryl and now, less than 24 hours later, he was a dead walker.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked, voicing everyone's question.

"I don't…" Rick trailed off, face pale as we looked around the cellblock.

"That's all of 'em," Daryl stated.

"Gotta clean it up now," Merle said as he eyed the dead body at the top of the stairs. Clean up. Another word for stopping reanimation.

"I'll take that side," I nodded in the opposite direction, walking off before anyone could stop me.

There were four dead bodies in three different cells, all under the age of 25. Two were lying on the ground in a huge pool of blood, their eyes open and unseeing, throats ripped out. They shared the cell. Were probably were friends. I hadn't known them, but it was more life cut tragically short. I bent over them one at a time, sinking my knife into their heads as quickly and efficiently as I could before closing their eyes with a heavy sigh.

I made my way to the last two cells where both men had been killed in their bunks. One had his stomach clawed out and my mind immediately went to Dale. His suffering would have been unimaginable before he finally succumbed to blood loss. I hadn't known Dale well when he died, but I knew his heart, his integrity and my heart was heavy when I sunk the knife into the man's head.

The last man, another Woodbury survivor I didn't know, was almost decapitated and I found solace in the fact his death was at least quick. A small mercy, but one most weren't afforded. Once I stabbed him, preventing reanimation, I walked out of the cell, watching as Rick hesitated at the entrance of another. He swallowed hard, pulling a small pocket knife and nodding at Daryl briefly before putting his head down and going in. When he emerged a few moments later he looked ready to collapse and I exhaled harshly. This was a step in the right direction, but he had a long way to go. Given what happened today I wasn't sure the world would wait for him to catch up.

Once the last of the dead were "handled" Merle went to fetch Submarine and Hershel. It was time for them to get their Dr. House on and figure out how people with no symptoms yesterday were dead today. I stood outside a cellblock as the two doctors examined a body.

"No bites, no wounds," Rick told them, "I think they just died."

"Horribly too," Submarine confirmed. "Pleurisy aspiration."

"The fuck he say?" Merle whispered, leaning over to me.

"He drowned in his own blood," I answered. When he looked no closer to understanding I added, "A virus. He died from a virus."

"I saw the same on a walker outside the fence," Rick said, referring to the blood seeping from his orifices.

"Saw it on Patrick too," Daryl confirmed. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

"They're from the internal lung pressure building up, like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top." Submarine's bedside manner needed work. I could have lived without that level of detail.

"It's a sickness? From the walkers?" asked Bob.

"No," I said absently. Everyone turned to look at me. "The bubonic plague killed 10,000 people a day at its peak back in 541 AD. The Spanish flu in 1918 was responsible for almost 75 million deaths, and The Black Plague wiped out almost 100 million before it was done. Things like this are nothing new. The only difference now is we don't have modern medicine at our disposal."

Just like the great plagues of the past, we were fucked six ways to Sunday.

"How do you know all that?" Glenn asked, eyebrows raised. Everyone else stared at me like I had a third tit.

"History channel," I shrugged.

"She's right," Submarine agreed, "These things all occurred before walkers. Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

"Someone locked him in here just in time," Hershel observed. This cell was one of the few we found locked.

"Nah man, Charlie used to sleep walk," Daryl corrected, "He locked himself in. I just saw him at the BBQ yesterday. How could somebody die in just a day from a cold?"

"I had a sick pig. It died quick." My head dropped, poor Violet. "Saw a sick boar in the woods."

"Pigs and birds, that's how these things spread in the past."

Hershel looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. Combine poor personal hygiene, non-existent waste disposal and cramped living conditions and you had all the makings of your own personal epidemic.

"We need to do something about those hogs," Hershel told Rick and my stomach bottomed out.

It was the right call. I was standing in a cellblock full of dead people so killing a few pigs was nothing, but shit this sucked.

"Maybe we got lucky. Maybe these two cases are it." There was glass half full and then there was Submarine.

"I know he's supposed to be a doctor, but if his brain was dynamite he wouldn't be able to blow his nose," Merle commented matter-of-factly. Submarine looked so confused it was almost funny.

"Is that what I look like when you guys speak redneck?" Merle nodded and I cringed. Eeek. That was not a good look.

"I think what Merle is trying to say is we haven't been lucky in a long time," Hershel translated, ever the diplomat.

"Bugs like to run through close quarters," Bob commented unnecessarily. I think we were all tracking the ramifications. "Doesn't get any closer than this."

"We're wasting time standing around stating the obvious," I grumbled.

Daryl shot me a disapproving look I completely ignored. Bob got under my skin. I still thought he was hiding something, and I held him responsible for Zach's death. Not entirely rationale or fair, but when had I ever been accused of being either of those? Never so I was going with my gut on this one.

"All of us in here. We've all been exposed."

Hershel's words sent a chill racing down my spine. There was no way to know who would get sick. Sure, not everyone slept in D, but we all interacted with the people that did. This thing moved fast and was highly contagious. I'd be surprised if everyone hadn't already been exposed to some degree.

The council decided to meet immediately and decide a course of action. I was no doctor, but the only thing that made any sense was to isolate anyone showing symptoms. Even then it might not help. Normally by the time someone showed signs of being sick they'd already been contagious for days. Combine that with our dwindling medication supply that currently did not include antibiotics and we were in serious trouble. Daryl emerged from the prison walking over to where Merle and I sat against the wall.

"What's the verdict lil' brother?"

"Gonna move anyone showing symptoms to A." He bit his fingernail as he thought, giving me a strange look. "Gotta bury the dead."

"I'll help," I offered, already standing up.

"Nah, Merle can do it."

I frowned, "Uh, OK."

"Need somethin' to cover yur nose and mouth," Daryl instructed as Merle nodded. "Gloves too."

He left to find what he needed leaving the two of us standing there.

"What's up?" I knew him well enough to know there was something weighing on him.

"You've been coughing."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. "And?"

"That's how it starts," he sounded downright terrified. He couldn't even look at me.

"Daryl, look at me." Reluctantly he obliged and I took a step towards him. "I'm fine."

"Didn't sound fine this mornin'." Impossible man.

"People cough all the time. It doesn't mean anything." He eyed me critically, looking for any signs I was about to drop dead. "If I was sick do you think I'd be able to jump from the second floor of the cellblock?"

And…that did the trick. He was no longer worried about my health.

"What the hell were ya thinkin?"

"That the stairs would take too long."

He scowled at me. He never appreciated my humor. "Could've killed yurself."

"I'm not made of glass." Despite his attempts to treat me that way. "I love that you care. I really do, but you can't worry about me all the time. It's a distraction and a distraction will kill you faster than any virus."

"Let's go Darlina!" Merle shouted, shovel in hand as he made his way to the graveyard. "Burnin' daylight and the dead ain't gonna bury themselves."

"He seems to be taking the news in stride," I smiled, "Have fun today."

"Whatcha ya gonna do?"

I shrugged, "Work on my tan, make fun of Deadpool because she fell down, steal condoms from Maggie. The usual."

He smirked, shaking his head as he followed his brother. Because fate was a real cunt I didn't have time to harass Deadpool, steal birth control or watch my skin burn. A groaning sound drew my attention and I held a hand above my eyes trying to shield them against the harsh sun. A horde of walkers had amassed and was pushing on the gate, the already wobbly structure buckling under their collective weight.

"Shit." I pulled a knife and sprinted towards the fence line. "Maggie, get help!" I screamed over my shoulder as I ran down the rocky path.

For reasons we had yet to understand the dead continued to congregate in singular locations against the fence. Maybe it was instinctual, maybe they just liked fucking with us, but whatever the reason it was a serious problem. The fence hissed as metal bent, two of our wood reinforcements snapping like twigs under the strain. I pulled a second knife, grimacing at the sheer number of walkers. Our fence may be a piece of crap fence but it was the only thing standing between us and certain death.

I heard Maggie shouting for help as I stepped towards the fence, plunging both knives into the first two heads I could reach. I didn't waste a second, pulling them out and stabbing again and again. The growls of the dead were deafening and I was forced to take a step back as the fence warped into a U shape above me. I continue to put them down, but it didn't appear to make much difference. For every one I killed 10 more were there to take its place. Maggie ran by, crowbar in hand, shoving it through the chain link as the Rick, Merle and Daryl followed suit

"It's not gonna hold!" I shouted above the collective rumble of walkers.

"The noise drew them out!" Maggie hollered, taking out a walker before heading my way. "Now this parts starting to give."

Blood spattered my arms and neck as I stabbed two, three, four walkers in rapid succession. Glenn, Rick, Merle and Sasha took up positions to my right while Daryl, Maggie and Tyreese stayed on my left. I noticed Rick panting hard at my side, an unused crowbar in his shaking hands. I stepped in front of him, stabbing the walker he was eyeing before stepping back and giving him an encouraging nod. He swallowed hard, giving me a grateful nod as he fidgeted with the crowbar. After what felt like eternity he finally plunged it into the eye of a walker.

Don't hesitate. Hesitation will get you killed.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I continued to stab relentlessly. The longer he stood there plunging the crowbar into walkers the faster I saw the old Rick resurface. He shouted a battle cry, springing forward to kill another then another. I released a breath I'd been holding since Lori died. He still looked a mess, his face too pale and hands too shaky, but it was a start. Yesterday he staunchly refused to carry anything but a dinky Swiss Army knife and forbid his son any weapon at all. He was convinced he could live the life of a pacifist, but in my experience there was only one kind of pacifist, a dead one. He looked ready to pass out from sheer stress, but we'd work on it.

Maggie stumbled to the ground with a shriek and for a half second my heart stopped, but she popped back up, waving off Glenn's attempt to help her.

"Don't," she hissed, brushing hair out of her eyes. "We're supposed to stay away from each other."

Glenn looked crestfallen at her dismissal and I averted my eyes, stabbing two walkers harder than necessary out of pure anger. Were we ever going to catch a break? The dead walking, psycho's trying to kill us, and now a virus spreading like wildfire.

"Firecracker!" Merle bellowed, stabbing a walker with his stubby knife. "Spot me a knife."

Without stopping I tossed him a spare knife he easily caught in his flesh hand. The elder redneck systematically decimated the walker population in his particular area and I nodded in appreciation. Maybe all we needed on fence duty was a pissed off hillbilly.

"Are you seeing this?" Sasha yelled. I stabbed a walker, watching as Daryl, Rick and Tyreese made their way to her. All four looked mortified. "Is someone feeding these things?"

"Oh hell no," I mumbled, my mind instantly going to Lizzie. The kid already named them thinking they were still people. Feeding them wasn't a huge leap. My mouth dropped open as walkers started climbing each other like a ladder, getting higher and higher on the fence. "A little help!"

"Get back Red!"

I stumbled, Merle grabbing my arm to keep me from falling. I nodded my thanks, but blanched when the fence gave way, the pile of walkers simply too much to withstand.

"It's gonna give!" Rick shouted, everyone trying to push against the fence while avoiding bites or scratches.

"Ahhh!" I shouted, pushing against a metal pole even as my feet slide on the pebble walkway. "We can't hold it!"

"Everybody back!" Daryl screamed. "Come on back, get back now!" I strained against the weight of the walkers, refusing to let yet another fence fall, refusing to accept yet another defeat. "Red, goddamnit! Get back!"

Glenn wrestled me away from the fence, dragging me a safe distance away as I panted from exertion.

"The fence keeps bending like that the walkers are gonna come over it," Sasha wheezed, sweaty and a little too pale.

"We need to distract them," I suggested.

Daryl's face went hard as he held up the metal pole he was using as a weapon, pointing it directly at me. "Whatever the fuck yur thinkin'…don't."

"Am I naked?" I asked Maggie who nodded no. "I'm wearing pants, right?"

"And a shirt," she pointed out, failing to hide her smile.

"That's what I thought."

"The fuck ya caterwaulin' 'bout?" Daryl snarled, sending Tyreese a look that promised broken bones if he didn't stop staring at my chest.

"Caterwauling?" Sasha asked no one in particular.

"Talking," Glenn supplied. Ignoring the side conversation I pointed my bloody knife at my husband.

"We've been over this Legolas. I'm not naked so stop bossing me around." He ground his teeth together even as the tips of his ears got red. That shit never got old.

"I'm with Darlina on this one," Merle offered, rocking back on his heels.

I shot Merle the finger, eyes never leaving Daryl. "No one asked you Captain Hook. Anyone got a better idea?"

"Anythin' better than usin' ya as bait," Daryl hissed, taking a large step in my direction.

"Floors open if you'd like to discuss," I taunted, holding my arms open wide as everyone diverted their eyes. That's what I thought.

"Yur outta yur damn mind woman."

I laughed, "You knew that when you married me. No take backs and no erasies."

"Are they always like this?" Sasha asked Glenn who nodded by way of an answer, his face impassive. This was one of our more tame disagreements.

"Daryl, get the truck," Rick said, interrupting us. All eyes swung to him as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "I know what to do."

Daryl ran passed me, stopping just long enough to say, "We ain't done with this."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Didn't he know by now scary Daryl turned me on? Really any versions of the man made my fun tunnel swoon.

"For fuck's sake, no one wants to see that shit Firecracker."

I brushed imaginary dirt of my shoulder. "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

"I ain't gonna stand here and watch ya and my lil' brother eye fuck each other," he grumbled.

"Keep talkin' shit and I'll knock you so hard you'll see next month." I paused, face scrunched up in thought. "Or is it next week?"

"Lord give me strength." Merle pretended to prayed, eyes closed, flesh hand pressed against his stub, head tipped back towards the heavens.

"Next year?" I asked, looking around for help, struggling to untangle the never-ending knot that was the redneck language.

"Are _they_ ," Sasha pointed between Merle and I, "Always like that?"

"Yeah," Maggie confirmed, a slight smirk on her face.

"You get used to it," Glenn added.

"Tomorrow!" I snapped my fingers, eyes bright. "I'll knock you so hard you'll see tomorrow!"

"Loses some of the sting when it takes 20 minutes to finish."

"That's what she said," I grinned as Merle snorted. I accepted the fact I would never speak fluent hillbilly a long time ago. "Better late than never."

He grinned, "That's what she said." I chuckled, holding out my fist for him to bump. He rolled his eyes, but returned the gesture even going so far as to blow it up. That, my friends, was progress.

"What's the plan Rick?" Sasha asked, done trying to decipher the ins and outs of the Dixon family.

"The pigs," he answered grimly. My head swiveled to his.

"The pigs?" I repeated.

"It's the only way." He didn't look at me as he walked away towards their pen. "We can't risk eating them now anyway. Not after Violet."

"Yeah," I agreed, bile churning in my stomach. "I know."

I stayed near the fence as Daryl and Rick loaded the pigs into a wooden crate on the back of a trailer. Maggie opened the gate as Daryl drove the Jeep out into the yard, the walkers instantly moving in their direction. When the herd was far enough away from the fence Rick reached into the wooden crate, pulling out Kevin and then his knife. He slit his throat, blood pouring down the pig's body as his squeals turned raspy then stopped. It was a quick death. Hopefully so quick he would be gone by the time the group of walkers reached him. They fell to their knees tearing poor Kevin apart with gurgling snarls, blood spraying everywhere as they fed.

Daryl drove 20 feet away before stopping and Rick picked up Bacon. Even from this distance I could see his face had lost all color as he slit the pig's throat and tossed him to the ground. The walkers continued to follow the trail of dead pigs leading them further away from the prison. I couldn't watch so I turned around, picking up a wooden stake and setting to work on reinforcing our severely damaged fence. Merle worked silently beside me, propping up wooden supports.

"Do you think its fucked up I'm more emotional about the pigs than what happened in D?" I asked, already knowing the answer. He shimmied a pole under the fence before digging the opposite end into the ground.

"Yeah." I nodded in agreement, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand as I turned to get another stake. "Least ya still feel somthin'."

I groaned, struggling to set my last pole. Merle walked over, easily lifting the pole and helping me dig it firmly into the ground.

"Thanks," I told him. "Even if it's only for pigs?"

He put his hand on his hip, breathing hard. "It ain't only for pigs." He nodded towards the Jeep as Daryl drove back into the prison. "Come on."

We walked back to the courtyard, ready for this day to be over, but like every other day no one upstairs gave a flying fuck what we wanted. Tyreese came tearing around a corner, his face hysterical and murderous all at the same time.

"You have to come with me!" he yelled, waving at everyone and no one. "Come on!" He pivoted on his heel, running back the way he came.

"Stay here," I told Merle.

"Firecracker!" he called out and I stopped, turning around as he tossed me my knife. "Might need it."

I hoped not. Rick yelled for Carol as Daryl followed behind me, all of us chasing Tyreese to a secluded corner of the prison. The smell hit me long before I saw anything. You never really forgot the smell of burning flesh and my steps faltered. I already knew what was around the corner and not one part of me wanted to see it. Rick frowned at me as he passed, but said nothing. Daryl stopped, turning me to face him.

"What?"

I squeezed my eyes closed, willing my stomach to settle. "You smell that?" He sniffed the air, recoiling immediately. "Yeah."

He took my hand, guiding me around the corner. Two charred bodies lay side-by-side, a can of gasoline a few feet away. Their bodies were still smoldering, ravaged by the fire, but intact enough to roughly identify a man and a woman. By Tyreese's reaction it was a good guess the female body was Karen.

"You found them like this?" Rick asked. Tyreese turned slowly, his face dangerous before grief overtook him.

"I came to see Karen," he began, "And I saw the blood on the floor." The blood trail was massive and led back inside the prison. There were several areas where it had pooled, creating large ponds of blood like whoever drug them out didn't have the strength to do it without stopping. "And then I smelled it. Somebody dragged them out here and set them on fire!" he screamed, turning to the four of us. "They killed them and set them on fire!"

Tyreese took a menacing step towards Rick who immediately backed up. Daryl and I flanked the massive man, afraid of what he was capable of in his current state.

"You're a cop," he ground out. "You find out who did this and you bring them to me! You understand! You bring them to me!"

"Easy Tyreese," I tried as Daryl put a hand on his arm he immediately shrugged off.

"We'll find out who did it," Daryl said gently, but Tyreese never took his eyes off Rick. His anger directed at the former policeman.

"Do I need to say it again?" I stepped closer to Tyreese as he towered over Rick. "Do I need to say it again?!"

"No," Rick assured him, "No, I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there." Carol and I exchanged worried glances. "It's dangerous."

"Karen didn't deserve this," he spit. "David didn't deserve it! Nobody does!"

"A'right man," Daryl insisted, a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Tyreese rounded on him, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him into a wall. I reacted on instinct, drawing a knife and moving towards the man, ready to slit his throat if necessary to protect Daryl, but my husband held up a hand, stopping me. His face was calm, unworried about the furious man threatening us all. Rick put a hand on my arm, guiding the knife back to the sheath at my waist as my entire body shook, a single thought racing through my mind. Protecting the man I loved.

"Wait," Rick told me gently. "Just wait."

I complied, for the moment, but if it went even a millimeter further I wasn't making any promises.

"We're on the same side man," Daryl stated. Tyreese's grip on his shirt loosened marginally, his breathing coming in ragged pants that spoke to his lack of control.

"Tyreese, let him go," I said, but it only served to rile up the unstable man.

The good news was he released Daryl. The bad news was in the blink of an eye his hands were around my throat, my feet off the ground, my back pressed firmly into a wall. His hands were so large they easily wrapped around my entire neck, his long fingers like tendrils as he squeezed, cutting off my air supply. Both my hands instinctively covered his wrist, pulling fruitlessly, my legs flailing as I tried to suck in air through the wind pipe he was slowly crushing. His eyes burned with emptiness as my lungs burned with pain under his assault. I clawed at his hands, his arms, his face, but his hold never loosened.

"You did this!" he screamed, pulling me forward only to slam me back into the wall. "You're a killer! I've seen what you can do! You're a murderer!"

What little fight I could muster was drained out of me. Only one part of his accusation was incorrect. I hadn't done this, but on all other accounts he was correct. I was a killer. This was my greatest fear realized. I knew the moment I stopped hiding what I could do there would come a time when it would come back to haunt me. I just never imagined it being something like this.

My lungs ached for air that wouldn't come as black spots danced in my field of vision. My head felt heavy, my face red and I felt myself drifting away.

"Let her go!" Daryl snarled, pulling on the massive man's forearms as Rick jumped on his back, hooking an arm around his throat.

The bloodlust in his eyes faded momentarily, his face going slack when he realized what he was doing. His fingers uncurled from around my neck at the same time he took a step back. I crashed to the ground, falling on my side as I sputtered and choked, trying to breathe through the pain.

"Red."

Daryl was instantly beside me, propping me against the wall as he moved my hands away from my throat, inspecting the damage. From the fire burning in my windpipe it was a safe bet I would have gnarly bruises. His blue eyes darkened in rage as he listened to my labored breathing, his calloused hands inspecting my tender larynx.

"I'm fine," I started only to end up coughing, Carol kneeling next to me, worry on her face. "It's not bad."

Tyreese bucked Rick off his back as both men staggered back, caught in a fight no one was likely to win.

"She wouldn't want you to be like this."

Wrong thing to say. Tyreese reared back, slamming his fist into Rick's jaw with enough force to send him to his knees.

"Help him," I pointed to Rick who had a cut above his eyes and blood spilling down his face. Daryl hesitated as Carol screamed for Tyreese to stop, but the grieving man was out of control. "Go."

Daryl sprung up, lunging for the larger man and wrapping his arms around his waist, driving him back. Using the wall for support I climbed to my feet, still coughing more than breathing as Rick struggled to stand.

"Stop!" Daryl hissed in his Tyreese's ear as he moaned and snarled just like a walker. "Come on."

Back on his feet Rick swiped at the blood on his chin, eyeing it with disdain before turning his glare on Tyreese. Oh shit. I knew that look. I'd seen it every day last winter.

Quicker than I could track he struck, hitting Tyreese hard in the face. The larger man was unable to defend himself due to Daryl's hold and he went crashing to the ground, but Rick wasn't done. He kicked him in the gut and I winced as I heard his gigantic body crash against a metal door. That was gonna leave a mark. Rick straddled him, pummeling him with punch after punch.

"Rick!" Daryl yelled, trying to get through to him, but just like Tyreese he wasn't listening. When that didn't work Daryl tried to pull him off, but Rick's eyes were hazy and unfocused as he shoved him away.

"Let go of me! Let go of me!"

With a heavy heart I moved quickly, taking Rick by surprise when I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him towards me. He stumbled to the side and I used his disorientation to my advantage as I swung my leg up and around his throat before driving my heel towards the ground. Unable to stop his momentum he flew backwards, his back hitting the ground hard as all the air whooshed out of his lungs. Spinning around to face him I extended my left leg before he had a chance to recover, pinning his left arm to the ground with the heel of my boot. I leaned down, using my right hand to restrain his other arm, digging my knee into his chest, pushing down to further immobilize him as he struggled wildly beneath me.

"Enough," I said evenly, trying not to hurt him.

He yelled in frustration, eyes manic as he tried to buck me, but it did nothing to free him. He panted hard while I kept him pinned, waiting for him to calm down. His dilated pupils retracted and the fury on his face melted away. He looked confused, eyes darting all over the place before they stopped when he saw Tyreese. Shame flooded his body as he watched the man curled on his side crying for the woman he loved and lost.

Satisfied he was back in control I released him, standing up gingerly as my body throbbed with soreness I was at a loss to explain. Rick immediately got to his feet and walked away in a daze, Carol trailing behind to keep an eye on him. Daryl moved to my side, arm going around my waist.

"Let's get you to Hershel."

I shook my head. "There's nothing he can do."

He grunted, not willing to let this one slide as he guided me out of the alley, leaving Tyreese to morn in solitude. Between the three of us Hershel was gonna have a busy afternoon. I kept my eyes glued to the ground as Daryl led me to the cellblock. I didn't look up and he didn't stop even when Maggie and Glenn gasped in surprise. He kept walking, offering them only a gruff response that I was alright. He may be able to brush off the two lovebirds, but his brother was a different animal. We were forced to stop the moment the hurricane that was Merle Dixon stepped in our path. I looked up into his blazing blue eyes, opening my mouth to offer the same hollow reassurance, but the second he saw my throat his temper went from unpredictable to homicidal. He snapped his jaw closed so hard he probably broke a tooth as he stormed off, muttering something about murder and a shallow grave.

"Don't let him hurt Tyreese," I pleaded with Daryl as he deposited me on the bench outside Hershel's cell. Rick was already inside getting his wrist and knuckles bandaged. Daryl pursed his lips, the vein in his head pulsating, his desire to see me safe at war with his desire to keep his brother from committing a felony. "Go ahead. I'll be fine," I promised.

He bit his thumbnail, peering inside the cell at the broken man Hershel was trying to fix. Too bad all injuries couldn't be healed with gauze and antiseptic. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before taking off to make sure his brother didn't fall off the wagon. Rick stepped out of the cell and I stood up, shifting my weight from foot-to-foot awkwardly as he looked at me.

"Sorry," I offered lamely. I didn't think sorry was an adequate apology for choke slamming your friend, but it was all I had.

"You did the right thing," he assured me with a sad smile. I nodded, stepping past him as Hershel beckoned me inside. "Hey Alex." I turned to look at Rick. "Thanks."

"Anytime." I sat down at Hershel's table. "I don't think people are supposed to thank you for beating their ass."

"Language please," the old man chided as he tipped my head back to get a better look at my neck. I just rolled my eyes. Ass was hardly a bad language word. A few moments later he sighed, "Well, you've been strangled."

"Hershel be honest with me, how much money did you spend on doctor school?" He rolled his eyes and I laughed, wincing slightly when my throat protested.

"You'll be sore for a few days and you'll have some ugly bruises but I don't think there will be any lasting damage."

"Don't sound so disappointed," I teased, winking at him when he smiled at me. "Rick OK?"

He hesitated, "As well as can be expected."

"So…not really."

"You were there, you saw what can happen." The old man sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Recovery never ends dear. You know that."

"Yeah," I mumbled, unable to hold Gandalf the Gray's wisdom filled gaze. It was unnerving how the man could strip away someone's defenses with just a look. "Well, I'll see ya later."

"You might want to have Caleb take look at your throat," he suggested. "After all, he spent more on doctor school than I did."

His also focused on humans. I grinned at him. "Nah, Submarine's OK, but you're my doc."

"If you see Daryl tell him we're having an emergency council meeting."

"Sure."

I trudged up the metal staircase, making my way to our bed, my limbs heavy and throbbing. I fell into bed, groaning when my bones seemed to rattle on impact. The day had clearly taken more out of me than I originally realized. I grabbed Daryl's pillow, curling my body around it and instantly drifting off to sleep.

I woke later drenched in sweat, tangled in sheets and shivering so hard it felt like I was having a seizure. I could have slept for a few minutes or a few years. The sheets, pillowcase, blanket and my hair were all soaked in sweat courtesy of the raging fever I felt burning through my body. I untangled myself, weakly tossing the blanket to the ground. I rolled off the mattress, but instead of landing on my feet I landed on the floor with a painful smack. It felt like I was being burn alive, and I cringed as I remembered today's events. My vision swam in and out of focus as I tried and failed multiple times to grab hold of the bunk right next to me so I could haul myself up. Everything hurt, my head, my body, my fucking hair follicles and I knew without a doubt this wasn't the after effects from the Big Spot disaster.

I was sick.

Whatever plague was floating around this place had infected me. I felt it with each painful inhale, every muscle that ached to the point my eyes filled with tears, every bone that felt like jelly in my body. I struggled to remain standing, so dizzy I didn't know up from down or right from left. I shuffled towards the cell door, veering off course and hitting the wall then the cell bars before I finally made it outside. My stomach rolled like an out-of-control washing machine as I swallowed down excessive amounts of saliva, my legs threatening to give out underneath me. My body was simultaneously hot and cold and I had to fight the urge to claw at my skin I was so uncomfortable.

I stumbled on the catwalk, barely catching myself before I face planted into the jagged grating. My throat already looked like a bruised peach the last thing I needed was a face that looked like it lost a fight with a cheese grater. By the time I made it to the stairs leading down I felt like fainting or puking or both. My vision blurred around the edges as I struggled to see two feet in front of me. I had to get out of the cellblock. Nugget and Carl were here. I couldn't risk exposing them to whatever this was, especially after I'd seen the aftermath.

"Firecracker?"

Merle's face was fuzzy and indistinguishable as he ran up the stairs. I backed up, holding up a hand, trying to stop his approach.

"Stay back," I wheezed, tripping and falling on my ass at the top of the catwalk. I leaned against the concrete wall, sighing when the cool surface touched my scorched skin. "Don't get too close."

Because he was the second most stubborn person on the planet he didn't listen, crouching down directly in front of me. He put a hand on my forehead only to hiss and yank it back a second later.

"Goddamnit," he swore, face as worried as I'd ever seen.

"Gotta get to A," I panted, chills racking my body as I shook uncontrollably. I tried to stand, but only managed to plant my palms on the floor and push weakly before falling to the side. Merle's flesh hand shot out, cradling my head and stopping it from colliding with the hard cement floor. "Just get me on my feet," I pleaded, eyes rolling in the back of my head. "Get me outta here. Can't get the others sick."

He said nothing, instead lifting me off the ground in one quick motion. I moaned in pain. My entire body tender to the touch. He adjusted me in his arms gently, my head resting against his shoulder, arms hanging limp at my side as he took the stairs what felt like two at a time. My stomach lurched when he kicked open the door leading outside, running towards A block.

"Hang on lil' sister."

I mumbled incoherently, shapes and faces passing by in a blur of movement as Merle shouted at everyone to get out of his way.

"Oh my god, is that Alex?" Glenn sounded like he was speaking at the end of an underwater tunnel.

"Get her to Caleb!" Hershel shouted.

The next thing I knew Merle was pounding on the solid, steel door leading to A, hollering for Submarine. Tears spilled out of my eyes at the volume of his voice, my head feeling like it might explode from the pressure building inside. A few moments later the door swung open and Merle let loose a string of curses even holy water couldn't undo.

"Cover your mouth and nose if you're coming in," Submarine said between coughs. "There's an empty cell towards the back."

"How the fuck ya supposed to help these people if yur sick?" Merle hissed, hugging me tighter to him, reluctant to release me into a sick man's care.

"I'm doing what I can with what we've got."

My head lulled to the side as I looked up at him. "S'kay Merle." He looked down at me, face pinched with concern, sitting me in a nearby chair as he pulled the bandana around his neck up over his face, but I put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Stay here."

"Like hell." I stumbled into the cellblock, my speed despite the illness surprising him. I closed and locked the door before he could stop me. He looked on the verge of hysteria as I turned, giving him a small smile that did nothing to lighten the mood. "Daryl know?"

I shook my head, eyes flicking to the ground. "Haven't seen him since..." Since Tyreese found the burned bodies of Karen and David.

"Gonna get him," he promised, swallowing hard. A coughing fit wracked my body, forcing me to hunch forward in an effort to stifle the pain. It didn't work. "Shit Firecracker."

I panted for a few moments, hands braced on my knees as I tried to suck oxygen into my failing lungs. I heard numerous others inside the cell suffering from the same symptoms. I'd seen up close and personal exactly what this virus unleashed. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would be fast. The symptoms would kill me long before the virus got a chance.

"I'll be back."

Merle turned, striding out of the cellblock, but my weak voice stopped him cold. Like a sixth sense he knew what I was going to say and refused to turn around. That was alright. I could say this just as easily to his back as I could to his face.

"He'll need you after," I started, using what little strength I had left to get this out. We both knew what I meant by "after". "He'll need everyone, but you most of all." Merle's shoulder's tensed, his head bowing slightly. "I know you'll be there for him. You've come so far and I'm proud of you." He turned to look at me then, unshed tears glistening in the blue eyes that were a mirror image of his brothers. "I'm proud to be a Dixon. I'm proud to be your sister."

"Alex…" I kept going, ignoring his use of my real name for the first time.

"You're my brother and I love you."

I didn't wait for him to respond as I turned, my legs like Jell-O as I made my way to the end of the cellblock. I fell into the first empty cell I found, crumpling onto the cot with a chest rattling cough. There were moans of agony coming from every corner of the cellblock and I wondered how many people were already infected. I knew we wouldn't be lucky enough to skirt this unscathed, but I wasn't expected it to hit so hard or so soon. At this rate it would sweep through the prison in a matter of days, wiping out all but a very select few.

"Alex," someone gasped from the cell next to mine.

"Yeah," I responded weakly.

"I thought I was hallucinating when I saw your bright ass head walk by."

I laughed, for a second, before curling into a ball as I coughed so hard I was surprised I didn't break something.

"Jesus Christ Sasha, take it easy." She too laughed briefly before coughing for what felt like a solid five minutes. Maybe shooting the shit while dying wasn't the best way to spend our time. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, "Hour or so."

I rolled onto my back, trying and failing to find a position that didn't hurt. "Could someone crank up the AC? I'm sweating like a nun in a cucumber field."

A few strangled laughs bounced off the walls followed closely by a groans of pain. Good to know even on the brink of death I still had it.

Submarine fell against the door to my cell, his face a disturbing shade of grey. "Rest Alex, everyone needs to rest."

"Then why are you standing up?" He shot me his doctor glare which didn't pack much punch given his current state. He stumbled back to his own cell, but not before he coughed up blood. When he was out of ear shot I told Sasha, "Submarine won't last much longer without meds."

Her dry laugh left a little to be desired. "None of us will."

"I'm gonna last an hour or so longer than you."

I couldn't practically hear her rolling her eyes. Talking to someone helped take my mind off the pain, off the inevitable, off Daryl.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Maybe, maybe not." When she was quiet for a second I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep.

"You talked to Daryl?" she asked, her voice sounding very far away all of a sudden. My throat clenched as I covered my face with my hands.

"No." I didn't know where he was or what he was doing. I was both terrified and relieved he might not make it to me before I died. "You talk to your brother?"

"Yeah, he told me about what happened. I'm sorry…"

"Don't," I interrupted her, "I understand."

"He said Daryl has a group going out. Hershel thinks there might be medicine at a veterinary college not far from here."

I perked up a little at the news. "How far?"

"Fifty miles or so." My hope deflated instantly. Fifty miles? Might as well be a million in our current state. "We could have medicine by tomorrow morning."

I coughed, turning onto my side as I tucked my knees to my chest. "Yeah."

The door to the cell opened, more people being ushered in and I sighed. With every second that passed the virus spread, more of us got sick and more of us would eventually die. I heard someone shuffling forward, closer and closer until Glenn appeared in the door to my cell.

"Seat taken?"

I grinned, my hand flopping towards the empty cot across from me. "All yours."

"Thanks," he said, collapsing onto the cot face down, clothes soaked in sweat.

"Glenn Rhee, I swear to all things holy if you die in here and try to eat me you're the first person I'm haunting in the afterlife." His laugh was muffled by the pillow his face was smashed against. "How's Maggie holding up?"

He turned on his side to face me and I cringed. He looked awful.

"You don't look any better."

I brushed some wet strands of hair off my forehead. "Guess not."

"She's strong," he smiled fondly. "She'll be OK."

My eyes slide closed as the infection inside my body raged out of control. Idly I pondered if I would ever wake up again. It felt like I had just closed my eyes when I heard the sound of something crashing against the door to the cellblock. I heard yelling, scuffling and what sounded like pounding on glass.

"Red!"

"Oh shit," I mumbled, pushing myself into a sitting position only to fall forward, barely making it to the waiting bucket in-between the two cots before I puked.

"Open the goddamn door or I'll fuckin' kill ya!"

"I think it's for you," Glenn grumbled, pulling the bucket closer once I was done as he leaned over the side of the cot awaiting his own release.

I swayed dangerously to the left once I was on my feet, catching myself on the cell bars as I waited for my vision to clear. Poking my head out of the cell I saw Merle and Rick trying and failing to restrain a fuming Daryl. Using the cell bars for support I made my way to the door. He had yet to see me, too busy shoving his brother and launching haymakers at Rick. His eyes were wild as he shouted, threw things and tried to maim the two men who were only trying to help. He looked just like Tyreese had earlier.

"Daryl!"

I yelled as loud as my fragile lungs would allow which wasn't much, but he heard me, his body going still in an instant. I stumbled towards a set of chairs directly by the entrance to A, dropping into one before I fainted or died. Rick's face went slack the moment he saw me, his mouth forming my name though if any sound came out it was too soft to hear. Merle pulled him away, wanting to give us privacy, but unwilling to leave his brother alone. Daryl exhaled harshly as he looked me up and down, dropping into a chair opposite me on the other side of the glass, his face stricken.

"Sasha said you're going for medicine." He nodded, mouth hanging open, unable to speak. "You should go now. Some of us," I swallowed down the lump in my throat, "We don't have much time."

"I ain't leavin' ya," he snapped, grinding his teeth together.

"You have to." He shook his head at me, about to protest, but I kept going. "You're their best shot." My lips trembled as I stared at him. "You're my best shot."

"Ya can't be sick," he insisted. My off the charts fever and impressive puking begged to differ. "Dixon's don't get sick." I laughed, doubling over when it turned into a coughing fit. "Fuck Alex, m'sorry."

"I guess my Dixon genes haven't kicked in yet."

I was breathing like a fish out of water, every inhale a struggle, every exhale painful and slow.

"Yur gonna be a'right." I nodded, smiling at him even he knew I didn't believe it. "I mean it Red. Don't even think 'bout dyin' on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." I put my palm flat against the window, my lips quivering. "I love you Daryl."

He raised his hand slowly, positioning his hand against the window directly over mine, biting his bottom lip so hard I was sure he would draw blood.

"I love ya so damn much Alex," he muttered, eyes boring into mine with searing intensity. "I'll see ya again."

My eyes slide to my wedding band as I closed my eyes, a single tear slipping out the corner of my eye.

"This side or the other." Another round of coughing forced me to drop my hand as I braced my palms against my torso. "You have to go."

He stood up so abruptly the chair toppled over behind him. His entire body vibrated as he watched me and I tried my best to look like I wasn't about to die at any moment. By the way his hands curled into fists, his knuckles turning white, I failed in spectacular fashion. He turned swiftly on his heel, shoving Rick out of his way as he kicked open the door leading out of the cellblock. Even through 10 inches of solid concrete walls I heard his anguished screams once he was outside.

"Go," I urged Rick who opened his mouth to say something. "I know," I smiled weakly, "Go, make sure he's got his head on straight before he leaves. He can't go out there like that."

Rick gave me a shaky nod before leaving to find and hopefully clam down Daryl. Good luck with that Officer Grimes. Merle walked to the window, a few fingers looped through his belt buckle as he assessed me critically. He didn't look worried anymore. He looked determined. Honestly, I missed worried. A determined Dixon meant trouble for someone and this time that someone was me.

"I ain't gonna leave ya."

I nodded, "I know."

"Ya ain't gonna die lil' sister." I nodded again because I couldn't lie to him. Not now. "I mean it. My baby brother needs ya…" His voice wobbled and I swallowed hard. "I need ya…yur family…so yur gonna fight this damn thing till he gets back with those meds. Ya hear me?"

"Sure."

He grinned at me and I frowned, not understanding what in the world could possibly be funny at this particular moment.

"I wanna hear it."

I groaned, putting my elbows on the table and face in my hands. "Merle…"

"Don't Merle me. Yur sittin' there lookin' like ya been rode hard and put up wet." I sat up, glaring at him, but it didn't pack much punch with snot leaking out of my nose. "Don't gimme that look."

"I don't want to," I whined, pouting.

He crossed his arms over his chest, raising a single eyebrow. "Ain't leavin' till I hear it."

"That's extortion."

"You're a Dixon now. Ride or die." It was looking more like die at the moment.

"Are you quoting Fast and Furious?"

He frowned, "Fast and who?"

"You're so uncool it's shocking," I coughed, smiling despite the pain. "Really, you should be studied."

"That's rich comin' from a woman who looks like she got chewed up and spit out."

I waved him off, "Yeah, but this is temporary." I'd either get better or die. He would always be on the struggle bus to Loserville.

"Quit stallin'." I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was around. "If ya do it I'll let ya go to sleep."

"I was wrong," I commented, pointing a finger at him. " _That's_ extortion."

"Come on, time to put yur big girl panties on." Gross.

"Add that to the list of topics you and I are never to discuss." He licked his lips, patiently waiting and I knew I wasn't getting rid of him until I said it. "I hate you."

"I know." I sighed, admitting defeat. A bout of coughing delayed his victory lap until I could properly breathe again. "Yur gonna keep yur skinny ass breathin', right Firecracker?" I nodded. "And why's that?"

"Cause I ain't nobody's bitch."

I injected as much Dixon swagger as I could into the phrase which wasn't much considering I was on my death bed. It wasn't my best effort, but it appeased my brother-in-law. He gave me a wide grin, nodding once as he pounded a fist against the window.

"Damn straight."

* * *

 **I had the flu earlier this year (everyone say, "thank you twins") and I used that miserable 4 days as inspiration for Alex getting sick. Those couple paragraphs describing her illness are me a few months ago. And yes, I even rolled out of bed straight onto the floor. My husband found me face down on the floor and asked why I didn't get up, call for help, something? I told him that was as good a place to die as any.**

 **I also wanted to say I know with the exception of Merle and the plot lines that weren't included in the show things have followed the established plot pretty close and some people have commented they want me to make some changes/shake things up, etc. I understand and agree 100% and to that end I do have some fairly large diversions planned, but I wanted to explain why I don't change everything simply because Alex is there. She isn't a superhero. She's just one woman. She can't change or affect every outcome. If she did then it wouldn't be authentic. You wouldn't buy it and you'd be right because it wouldn't be believable.**

 **For example, the Big Spot was there, the survivors were going to loot it, the roof was going to cave in, people were going to die. Those are just facts. Everyone walking away unscathed in an event of that magnitude is just not true to the story (or at least that's what I think). I am all for changing things, but only if its realistic and makes sense for the story. Sometimes that means things in the show remain relatively unchanged for periods of time and that's because short of a miracle there was no stopping the eventualities that played out.**

 **Anyways, for those of you hoping for change please stick with me because I promise I do have some planned (and some already written).**

 **What do you guys think about Alex being sick?**


	41. Hope Is Stronger Than Fear

**Hope Is Stronger Than Fear**

The next 24 hours passed in a haze of fever, puking, coughing, and Hershel forcing his back woods tea concoction down my throat. I counted the passage of time by the old man's appearances in our cell. When he showed up for the second time in what felt like an hour I groaned, not from pain, but annoyance.

"Please, no more," I begged, turning towards the wall.

"None of that young lady," he chided, limping into the cell. "This tea is the only thing keeping your fever at bay."

"Him first." I waved a hand in Glenn's general direction. "If I drink it now I'll just puke it up. Gimme a sec."

Hershel conceded, pouring his shit tasting tea down Glenn's sore throat. He sputtered while he drank and as much as he assured his soon to be father-in-law it was the illness we both knew it was the tea masquerading as a toxic substance. Apparently everyone in the Greene family was incapable of boiling water. Until today I had no idea the inability to cook was genetic.

"Here, chew on this."

I stared at the piece of bark in his hand. "Is this punishment for calling your tea shitty?"

He pursed his lips at the language, but didn't comment. Being on your deathbed had its perks.

"It's willow bark, a natural fever reducer. Merle brought it back." If my choices were bark, crap tea or a fever I'd take the fever. "I've got your tea right here if you'd like that instead."

"Gimme the bark," I grumbled. I hesitantly gnawed on the piece of tree, grimacing when the bitter taste coated my tongue. "I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but this is worse than the tea."

It was official, Merle hated me.

"They've been gone too long," Glenn wheezed, trying to sit up only to have Hershel push him back down. "Something went wrong."

"You don't know that." Hershel sounded tired. He should never have come in here. He was going to get sick and given his age it would kill him quickly. "The college is a long way away. It will take time for them to get there and back."

"I don't want to die," he cried, in pain from both the illness and the prospect of leaving the woman he loved. I understood those fears. I had them buried inside of me too.

"Here Alex, drink a little tea. It will wash away the taste." I wouldn't be able to get the grimy taste of bark off my tongue if I scrubbed it with steel wool, but I didn't have the energy to fight with the veterinarian so I rolled over. He propped me up against the wall, helping me drink the vile beverage. "See, now was that so bad?"

"Hershel, I love you like the father I never had, but that tastes like dirt mixed with cow shit." He tipped his head back, laughing like I imagined Santa Clause might. If Santa Claus had a mullet. "I appreciate the effort, but it wasn't that funny."

He slapped me on the leg, still chuckling.

"It's working."

I scoffed, taking offense. I was funny before he and Merle tried to poison me.

"Hershel!" Submarine screamed, his voice horse, "Cell five!"

Hershel helped me to my feet before assisting Glenn. He made a beeline for the fifth cell from the door while Glenn and I moved at a much more subdued pace, like a crawl. Sasha tried to sit up on her cot when we passed, but I waved her off.

"We got it, rest."

She slumped over immediately, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Over the last day the three of us tried to help Hershel as best we could with the ever growing number of patients in the cellblock. Submarine could barely move at this point which left Glenn, Sasha and I as the only ones who were remotely ambulatory, and had any kind of medical training. Not that it was making much difference. It felt like every hour the door opened and a new "patient" was admitted.

I swayed dangerously to the side, my vision going to pinholes, and Glenn wrapped a hand around my arm to steady me. I returned the favor a few seconds later when his over-correction almost sent him tumbling to the ground. We weren't the best nurses in the world, but we were all Hershel had at the moment.

We stumbled into Henry's cell, both panting like we'd run a marathon only to find Hershel trying to restrain the man who was convulsing on his cot. It was an all too familiar scene that had played out more times than I could count in the last day.

"Henry, I need you to calm down," Hershel said, attempting to hold him still, "We're trying to help."

He was suffocating, drowning in his own blood, something that would eventually happen to all of us. I fell to my knees, doing my best to hold down his arms and legs while Glenn took up a similar position on the opposite side. He fought us every step of the way, gurgling with wide, terrified eyes when Hershel intubated him, but the old man was able to successfully insert the tube and use a manual ventilation device to bag him, pumping air into his lungs. The strain of helping subdue the dying man sent both of us into a vicious coughing fit. I doubled over, raspy gasps filling my ears as sweat dripped down my face.

"Drink more of that," Hershel ordered, nodding to a cup of tea. "Both of you." Glenn handed me a cup and I swallowed it in one gulp in effort to soothe my burning throat. "Hey, we could almost have a council meeting," Hershel joked.

"Wrong Dixon."

I sank down to the floor, letting the cup fall from my hand. My head pounded against my skull and my limbs felt too heavy to move.

"Oh, if I've learned anything the past year and a half it's that a Dixon's a Dixon."

"That's deep."

Glenn chuckled, sinking to the floor, exhausted. "He has a point. You're all kinda the same."

"I know I should be offended, but I just can't get there right now."

Hershel continued to bag Henry. "I think we should come up with some new rules before they get back." It didn't escape my attention he said _when_ not _if_. T's spirit must be somewhere in this hellhole making sure everyone's glass was half full. "I hereby declare we have spaghetti Tuesday."

"Here, here," Glenn croaked.

"No, no," I insisted, wiping matted hair away from my face. "Taco Tuesday and spaghetti Wednesday."

Everyone knows Tuesday was for tacos.

Hershel grinned, "First we have to find some tacos...and spaghetti."

"I'm sure the Dixon brothers can rustle up some tacos," I said, coughing. "They can hunt anything."

I'd never seen a taco in its natural habitat, but if anyone could track it down it was Daryl.

"You OK to take over?" he asked Glenn who nodded. "Squeeze the bag every five to six seconds. If you start to feel lightheaded you call someone to take over." Glenn nodded again, his red rimmed eyes glassy. "We'll take it in shifts."

"How long will this keep him alive?" he asked.

Hershel's lips thinned. "As long as we're willing to do it. As long as it takes." Translation, his life was in our hands. We stopped bagging he died. No pressure or anything. "Wanna come with me on my rounds?"

"As long as it means no more tea or tree branches your wish is my command Yoda."

I climbed to my feet, squeezing Glenn's shoulder as I passed, giving him an encouraging nod. He patted my hand absently, his breathing dangerously shallow. Was it just me or did he look worse than an hour ago?

It was dark in the cellblock when we walked downstairs, the glow from Hershel's lantern the only illumination save the moonlight shining through the windows. We walked down the cellblock, peering into each cell and offering anyone awake and lucid an encouraging nod. Most people were sleeping, a select few were sitting up and talking quietly, and unfortunately many were withering in pain on their cots. That was a situation I could sympathize with. I wished I was in my cot withering in pain.

When we got to Mr. Jacobson's cell it was obvious he was doing none of the above. He was dead. I walked inside, drawing a knife from my waist, but Hershel stayed my hand.

"For god's sake Hershel, not this again."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "We don't do it here." He left the cell, finding a gurney and rolling it inside the impossibly small cell. "Help me get him on here."

"I know everyone's sick, but they still have eyes. You really think no one's noticed the dead people being rolled down the hallway?"

I was losing my patience for this exercise.

"Keeping up people's morale is vital to survival Alex," he pleaded. "For some of them hope is all they have left."

I licked my lips, peering down at Mr. Jacobson. "Hope isn't going to save us."

"Maybe not, but it might just keep us alive until we find something that will. Fear will kill us faster than this virus."

Debatable.

"This won't always be an option. When I'm gone, when Glenn and Sasha are gone, you're going to have to handle it right then."

If he tried this on his own he ran the risk of letting them reanimate. Hershel might think fear would kill us faster than the virus, but nothing killed faster than a walker.

"Shut up," he ground out, sounding as angry as I'd ever heard him. He got like this anytime one of us mentioned kicking the proverbial bucket. "Now help me with the body."

"Your bedside manner needs work."

He ignored me and together we lifted the dead man onto the gurney, wheeling him down the hall. When Lizzie appeared out of nowhere asking questions that had no good answer I kept going, leaving Hershel to deal with it. Carol escorted the girl into the cellblock sometime yesterday with a persistent cough and low grade fever. So far her symptoms hadn't progressed, but it was only a matter of time. I didn't know if that was a good thing or not. She was just a child, but she was irrevocably fucked up. Her belief walkers were still human blossoming into a full-blown obsession. She wouldn't listen to Carol, her sister, or me.

I waited just outside the cellblock, knife in my hand just in case. A few moments later Hershel joined me, pulling a tiny Bible from his pocket. I stood beside the gurney, twirling my knife while I waited for him to finish.

"Done?" I asked when he stopped mumbling. He nodded and I swung down, plunging the knife into the dead man's head just as the first growl sounded beneath the sheet. "How many does that make?"

"With the one Sasha dealt with this morning 14." Fourteen. Twelve in D block and two since moving the infected to A. "You should go rest. I need to talk to Maggie."

"Smart move having him bag Henry. If she saw him right now..."

The last time Merle came to visit he looked close to fainting the moment he saw me. He recovered quickly, but I saw the worry etched on his normally carefree face. If Merle was worried I might keel over it was officially bad. I didn't know who this was harder on, those of us locked in here dying slowly or our loved ones locked outside forced to watch helplessly.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Can you do something for me?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Anything, anything at all."

I bit my lip, pulling a wadded up piece of paper from my pocket and handing it to him.

"In case...you know." His hand wobbled as he took the paper, eyes watery. "Make sure he gets it after and this too." I held up my left hand, a finger unconsciously tracing my wedding band before I curled my hand into a fist. "Don't forget the ring. It was his grandmother's."

"I promise, but Alex you're not gonna die."

"I know," I lied, heading back to my cell.

I knew it was my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear every time I made the journey back to my cell the walk got longer and longer. Spots danced in my vision causing me to veer left and right turning the 20 foot walk into a half mile.

"What happened?" Sasha asked when I passed.

"Jacobson's dead. Henry's on a ventilator."

She swung her feet to the ground, closing her eyes until the dizziness passed. "I'll go relieve him."

I startled when one of the Woodbury survivors stumbled out of his cell, falling to the ground, a horrid gurgling sound coming from him. Blood poured from his lips, nose and even his eyes and I cringed. This was the last phase, anyone who cried blood was moments away from death.

I bypassed my cell, kneeling beside him and taking his hand, his body shaking violently. I held him down, trying to both restrain him and offer him some form of comfort in his last moments. His eyes were wild and terrified, fingers clawing at my shirt in desperation. Every part of me wanted to look away, but I wouldn't let him go through this alone. It wasn't much, not nearly enough, but it was all I could do.

Other patients stumbled out of their cells, watching the gruesome scene in silence. My eyes passed over each of their ashen faces, everything in their posture suggesting they accepted their fate. They all believed it was just a matter of time before it was them lying dead on the floor in a pool of their own blood. There was no fight left in any of them. They were resigned to what they believed was the inevitable. They weren't in here fighting to live. They were waiting to die.

In that moment I understood why Hershel didn't want them to see this part. We all knew what came next, but knowing and seeing were two very different things. When everyone refused to disperse despite Hershel's persistence I stood, rolling the gurney over. Without a word I collapsed it, moving towards the man's feet as Hershel grabbed his arms, the two of us lifting him up. I slumped against the wall, my head too heavy on my shoulders while Hershel stood in front of me.

"Thank you." He took my hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "I can take it from here."

I shook my head, "No."

I pushed the gurney down the hallway, using the stretcher to support myself and ignoring the languid stares of those I passed. In the back room I drew my knife, standing near his head.

"Alex, let me do it."

I looked at Hershel, taking in his bloodshot eyes and slouched posture. He looked exhausted, but he was still here, still fighting, still trying to save us all.

"Have you ever killed one?" I already knew the answer, we both did, but he shook his head grimly, face going green at the mere thought. "I'll do it."

"Why?"

I tilted his head to the side, positioned the knife directly over his temple, taking a deep breath when my hand shook so viciously I almost dropped the weapon.

"I won't allow the stain on your soul," I answered, sinking my blade into the soft flesh.

"Hershel, Alex." Rick stepped up to the window outside A, taking in the grisly scene. He swallowed hard when he saw me and I was suddenly very glad there were no mirrors in here. "Are you guys alright?"

I sank down to the ground, assuming that question was rhetorical in nature where I was concerned. I wasn't OK, but I wasn't dead and that was about as good as things got in here. Just ask the dead guy on the gurney.

"How's Merle?" I asked.

He looked crestfallen after his last visit and I feared the fallout if he lost control. I was stuck in here and Daryl still hadn't returned so there was no one around to help him through this. I could only imagine how he felt about the very real possibility his brother would come back and he'd be forced to tell him I was gone. I had no idea how that conversation would go, but I knew one thing, it would go badly.

"Good. He's helping Maggie with the walkers along the fence and hunting when he can make it out. He's been a real asset since..."

I nodded, "That's good."

He was staying busy, productive, and that was all I could ask for. I closed my eyes, fighting my ever present headache while Hershel updated him on the body count. Rick took the news in stride, but we all knew this wasn't sustainable. We couldn't keep up this pace for much longer. If Daryl didn't return, and soon, we were all dead.

"A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ."

I couldn't count how many times I'd heard the old man repeat that quote. It was the basis for the poorly disguised cloak and dagger with the dead bodies. I didn't know if it was helping, but it sure as shit couldn't hurt. Besides, after all Hershel had done for us I would do whatever he asked for as long as I could. I owed him that much.

"They see you Hershel," Rick attested, his voice taking on the tone of a leader. "They see Alex. All of you still trying even after all the choices keep getting taken away."

The two men looked at each other, a measure of respect passing between them. They debated fate versus denial versus something else I didn't hear nor understand through my fuzzy brain, but my ears perked up when I caught Carol's name. I hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since she dropped off Lizzie and that wasn't like her.

"What about her?" I croaked, drawing their attention. Rick ran his hand through his hair like he'd forgotten I was in the room. I wasn't sure how that was possible given I was breathing like a congested walrus. "What is it? What's wrong?"

It felt like the world was being turned upside down and then shaken just to make sure it was impossible to keep your footing. I listened to him recount her crime, how she'd murdered Karen and David, admitted to setting them on fire in an effort to stop the spread of the disease. I shook my head, ignoring my debilitating headache as I clawed my way to my feet, covering my ears with my hands like it would somehow block out this revelation. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

"Alex," Rick tried as I shuffled towards the door.

"N-n-no," I slurred, my stomach swimming with nausea. "I can't do this now. Please...stop."

Carol was a murderer. She killed two people. She set them on fire. She was gone. It was too much. My weak body couldn't take another hit.

"I'm sorry, please try to understand..."

Hershel cut him off, "Let her go Rick. She needs to rest."

My shaking hands and the bile churning in the back of my throat had nothing to do with my illness. I slowly made my way back to my cell, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Carol I knew wasn't a killer. She was sweet and caring and gentle. I was a killer. Not her.

I didn't want to believe it, but I saw the truth in Rick's tortured expression. I wasn't sure what gutted me more, what she'd done or her subsequent exile? Rick was right to cast her out. Her actions crossed a line that simply couldn't be forgiven with an apology. I knew she'd changed, knew it the moment she suggested Andrea seduce and murder The Governor, but this, this was something else altogether. I didn't know the who woman murdered people in cold blood, who set their bodies on fire, and then stood by pretending to be shocked by the discovery.

I fell onto my cot, head in my hands and water in my eyes. The worst part was I really wasn't surprised. I wanted to be, somehow that made it feel more bearable, but I hadn't missed Carol's slow decent into homicide. I'd ignored it because I didn't want it to be true. She'd changed, become colder, more distant, and I dismissed it as "normal" because I couldn't face the truth.

There wasn't a soul alive who was the same person they were before the outbreak, except maybe me, but I dismissed my intuition. I'd seen all the clues, all the signs her behavior went beyond mere survival, and I choose not to accept them because I didn't want to my friend to be a murderer.

A strangled scream from the second level jolted me to my feet, a wave of diziness sending me momentarily to my knees. Lizzie screamed Hershel's name, the terror in her voice pushing me out of my cell, two knives already in my hands.

The second I emerged from my cell I was met by a walker shuffling out of the cell next door. The dead woman moved with surprising speed towards Hershel who was standing in the middle of the hall, face grim. Without thinking I threw a knife, the blade ruffling Hershel's ponytail when it sailed by him before slamming into the walker's head.

"Everyone stay in your cell!" Hershel commanded as I ran towards him.

A shot rang out and I dove to the ground instantly, sliding across the floor on my side. The bullet struck a blonde woman loitering in a doorway directly in front of me. Her hands covered her chest, the crimson stain on her shirt spreading rapidly before she collapsed.

"Shit," I cursed, struggling to my knees, glancing behind me just in time to see a boy lunge at a man with a gun, tearing out his throat.

I stood, fighting off a coughing fit. I dove for the boy, slamming the blade of my knife into his head before pulling him off his father. The man convulsed, mouth opening and closing a few times before he went still, dead. I grimaced, sliding my blade into the base of his skull, taking the gun from his hand and tucking it into my jeans.

"Hershel, are you OK?" I hollered, making my way to the blonde woman.

"I'm alright."

I knew she was dead, the bullet hole in her chest directly over her heart, but I checked her for a pulse just to be sure. When I didn't' find one I turned her head to the side and used my knife to stop reanimation. In the span of a few minutes our body count jumped from 14 to 17.

Lizzie shrieked from the second floor and my blood went cold. Glenn was up there. I grabbed the bars on the cell door, hoisting myself up and taking a measured breath, trying to swallow down the sickness I didn't have time for at the moment. My foot caught on the first stair and I tripped, catching myself just before face planting. I crawled up the stairs, using my hands to steady my weak body.

About halfway up the stairs I almost puked for an entirely different reason. I saw Lizzie walking backwards coaxing a very dead Henry forward like she was calling a dog. I had no idea what she was doing, but I wasn't willing to risk her life to watch it play out. I stood to my full height, holding a knife by the blade and doing my best to steady my aim and blink away my blurry vision. I let the weapon fly, holding my breath when it barely missed a metal pole before smashing into Henry's skull.

"No!" Lizzie screamed, rushing to the walker that was crumpled at her feet. Holy fuck-sicle that kid had some major issues.

I crawled up the rest of the stairs, a strangled cry escaping my lips when I saw Glenn sprawled and unresponsive at the top.

"No, no, no, no," I chanted as I got closer. I rolled him over, sobbing when I saw the trickle of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. "Don't you dare fucking die on me Glenn."

I pushed two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. When I found one I exhaled harshly, standing up and dragging him into Henry's cell. His breathing was shallow and labored, blood still spilling out of his mouth and nose. I wiped away the blood screaming for Hershel as loud as my gravelly voice would allow. The old man limped up the stairs, his face blanching when he saw Glenn.

"What do you need me to do?" Hershel stood paralyzed next to the cot, eyes locked on Glenn as he struggled to breathe. "Hershel!"

"In Caleb's cell," he started, taking another moment to compose himself. "He has a shotgun and IV supplies. I'll get the tubing and bag from Henry!"

I was out of the cell before he finished his sentence, determination giving me the strength I needed to get to Submarine's cell. When I got there I wasn't greeting by the kind, bumbling doctor Daryl and I rescued from the woods. Instead a walker snarled at me, reaching between the bars with crazed, dead eyes, desperate for its next meal.

"Sorry Submarine," I said plunging a knife into his head.

I swung the cell open, bending over and coughing into my elbow as my body trembled from exertion, the adrenaline fading. Lizzie drew my attention when she cleared her throat. She stood on the metal walkway, looking ashamed and I shook my head. I didn't have time to unravel the ins and outs of her psychosis so I grabbed the collar of her shirt, shoving her into the adjacent cell and swiftly locking the door.

The snarls of walkers on the lower level made my shoulders slump. When it rained it poured and right now it was cloudy with a high probability of the rest of the day sucking.

I quickly found the gun case, loading the shotgun and hastily wiping the sweat dripping into my eyes. My body burned with fever and ached with soreness no tree bark or dirt tea was going to relieve, but I couldn't stop. If I did Glenn died, the people on the first floor died, and I wouldn't allow that. Not while I still had air in my lungs. This was who I was. It was what I did. Hershel did what he could to save these people in his way and now I would save them in mine. I grabbed the homemade IV supplies on Submarine's desk, walking back to Glenn and Hershel.

I stumbled forward, one step then another, ignoring how hard it was to do something so simple like breathe. I learned a long time ago how to push my body to the absolute limit. When others couldn't take another step, I walked another mile. Where someone saw no options, I saw endless opportunities. Failure, quitting, defeat, those were for _other_ _people_. The concepts were systematically erased from my vocabulary through relentless training until all that remained was one option, success.

Machines were only as efficient as their operating system and my former employer spent a lot of time and money ensuring my operating system could function in every environment. Circumstances were irrelevant. Illness was a non-issue. Injuries were no excuse. You got the job done or died trying, period.

Backtracking to Henry's cell I tossed Hershel the IV supplies, taking a few deep breaths while I watched him steadily squeezing a plastic bag next to Glenn. The sick man's lungs inflated with each squeeze, filling his body with the air he needed to live.

"Is he gonna make it?"

The old man didn't look up, methodically breathing for his daughter's love. He was the only thing standing between him and death.

"Help the others."

A scream from below had me out of the cell and cocking the shotgun at the top of the stairs in an instant. I fired at walker who had his son pinned to the ground, poised to rip him apart. The buckshot littered the man's body, throwing him off the child, but didn't kill him.

Somewhere on the opposite end of the cellblock a pane of glass shattered and I wondered what the hell else could go wrong. I took another step down the stairs, pumping the shotgun and firing, this time removing the walker's head.

I sighed in relief, mistakenly thinking the threat had passed when something slammed into me from the side. The shotgun clattered to the ground, a walker slamming my back into the ground.

I hit the hard concrete hard enough to rattle every bone in my body, a walker on top of me, its teeth snapping dangerously close to my face. I used both my hands to push her jaw away, turning my head to the side as my strength quickly failed me. The walker growled, pushing against me with force I was unable to match. Its razor sharp teeth clicked close to my ear as a desperate scream tore from my lungs. I dug my back harder against the floor like I could someone sink through it. A gun fired and the walker stilled suddenly, slumping on top of me. A sob bubbled up as my arms flopped to the ground at my side.

"Alex!" Maggie yelled, racing over and tugging the dead body off me. "Are you alright?" I nodded, unable to speak, eyes still closed as I struggled to take in enough air. "Where's Glenn?"

I pointed upstairs and she was gone, her boots clanking against the metal as she ran.

A debilitating cough made my body curl into itself, and the metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth. I turned on my side, watching the stark red substance drip from my lips to the floor. I felt just like I did when Tyreese strangled me, only a fraction of the air I desperately craved making its way into my lungs. I could feel my windpipe filling with fluid, with blood, as I slowly suffocated. My body contorted at an odd angle and my breathing turned to short, ugly rasps. I was silently screaming, gasping for breath even though I knew none would come. This was it. This was the end.

"Red!"

"Sasha!"

"She's over here!" someone yelled as flashlights bounced around the dark cellblock. "Daryl, over here!"

Daryl slide to a stop on his knees next to me, eyes hysterical as he watched me struggle to breathe. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a dry gurgle that sent a spray of blood splashing across his shirt.

"No," he whispered, bending down and pushing the hair out of my face.

I'd never seen Daryl flustered, but at that moment he looked stricken by panic, eyes frozen on my face. This was his worst nightmare realized, forced to watch me die in his arms while he was helpless to stop it.

"Keep her on her side," Bob instructed, kneeling on my other side and quickly pulling a bag off his back. "We need to clear her airway and get her intubated or she'll die."

Daryl turned me over allowing the build-up of blood in my airway to pour out of my mouth, relieving the pressure momentarily. My eyes were wide with fear mirrored on the face of my husband, only small exhales escaping my lips that did nothing to ease the strain on my body. I couldn't control my limbs as waves of debilitating spasms rolled through me.

"Hold on baby," he mumbled, voice cracking as he cradled my head in his hand. Something Bob did or rather failed to do caused him to look up, his face murderous. "What the fuck are ya waitin' for?! Do somethin'!"

My fingers clawed at his leg, digging into the fabric, my eyes desperate as the pressure on my throat intensified with each passing second. A lone tear fell from his eyes and he grabbed my hand, holding it tight while my lungs burned with need. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to inhale only to feel absolutely nothing. My eyes burned and my vision blurred as I blinked and felt a thick, viscous tear fall from my eyes. Daryl's face paled, his mouth dropping open in horror. I knew what was happening. I'd seen it happen three times. I was crying blood. I also knew what came next.

"Her lips are turnin' blue!" Daryl bellowed, a vein in his neck popping out.

"Get her on her back."

The second he rolled me over I knew I was going to die. I could feel my heartbeat slowing down even as my body continued to trash wildly. Bob positioned himself above me, using two fingers to open my mouth, intubation tube in his other hand. I knew what was coming, even knew what to expect, but my body revolted against the large plastic tube on instinct the moment he tried to slide it down my throat. My hand snapped up, knocking away the tubing as I landed a weak palm strike to his nose.

"Arrgh," Bob cried, holding his nose while blood oozed between his fingers. "Hold her down."

"Stop it Red," Daryl urged, voice gentle even as he grabbed my arms, pinning them to my side. He used his body weight to hold me in place.

Desperate to breathe I opened my mouth, nothing entering or exiting. Despite the pain and my rapidly failing body I continued to thrash and buck under him. My heart actually hurt when I saw the tears he was fighting to hold back finally fall.

"Hurry up goddamnit!"

Bob swiped at the blood under his nose, repositioning the intubation tube. The edge of my vision faded to black, the fight draining out of me as the darkness crept in. My body jerked once more before my entire body went limp. I felt the tube slide down my throat causing blood to bubble out of my mouth. The warm, syrupy liquid spilled down the side of my face and Daryl sucked in a horrid, strangled breath. The tubing felt like it was tearing my throat apart, accomplishing nothing but killing me faster.

Bob's movements were distorted by my failing vision as he worked to secure the tubing and attached the bag. As soon as he did he started compressing the bag, sending a spray of blood out my mouth and across my face. Daryl made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, fishing an old sleeve out of his back pocket and carefully dabbing my face. Bob continued to pump the bag, once, twice, and finally on the third attempt air finally pushed into my lungs. The involuntary convulsions making me twitch decreased with each pump of the bag until my body relaxed, finally getting the oxygen it desperately needed.

"I've got to get an IV started," Bob told Daryl. "Take the bag. Squeeze it every five seconds, got it?"

"Yeah," he nodded, taking the bag from him.

My eyes followed him as he carefully replaced Bob, swallowing hard and trying to steady his hand when he squeezed the bag. When he noticed me watching him his eyes softened and he ran the back of his hand gently down the side of my face.

"Yur gonna be a'right."

"She saved us," a woman who was out of my line of sight admitted. Daryl's head turned immediately and I felt my heart rate pick up. All I wanted to see were his eyes. "When they all started to turn she fought them off. The whole time she was here she was helping Hershel with Glenn and Sasha. The last time I saw her she looked ready to collapse, but when it started..." The woman sniffled, Daryl's eyes locked on her like a tractor beam. I wished she would stop talking so he would look at me. "I don't know how she did it. She could barely stand..."

Daryl glanced around the room, taking in the body count and carnage before finally peering down at me. I expected him to look mad, but instead he looked proud.

"That's my girl."

"You're going to feel a small prick," Bob said as he inserted the needle into my arm under Daryl's close, personal supervision. He looked distrustful of the man and it made me wonder what happened on the run to cause such a drastic shift. "OK, needles in. I'm going to start by giving her fluids and a mild sedative to relax her while we work on dissolving the medication. Once that's done we can inject it directly into her IV."

"How's she doing?" Hershel's head popped into view above me and for the first time my eyes strayed from Daryl. My fingers twitched and I tried to raise my hand only to fail miserably. With the tube in my throat I couldn't talk, only indecipherable moans coming from me. "Hey now, calm down."

"What's wrong with her?"

Daryl sounded frightened and I hated that, but I needed to know if Glenn was alright. I opened my eyes wide, making a point to look at Hershel then at the stairs, repeating the process several times in order to communicate. Hershel smiled, smoothing down my sweaty hair with a fatherly pat.

"He'll be fine." I squeezed my eyes shut, body going limp as I let the bloody tears fall. "Thank you for what you did Alex."

My eyes popped open and I blinked twice. I hadn't done anything. He was the one who came in here when he didn't have to. He risked his life to save us. All I did was not die.

"Means no," Daryl translated. "Think she's sayin' she didn't do nothin'."

"I figured," Hershel grinned before his face got serious. "You did more than you know." His lips trembled and he took a moment to compose himself. "More than I could ever repay you for."

I blinked again twice and Daryl snorted, not needing to translate this one.

"Ain't gotta thank her for that," he told the old man, face serious. "It's what we do."

"Yes, yes it is."

* * *

 **Alex got put through the ringer on this one. I wanted to explore her in a more venerable setting (one she couldn't fight her way out of). I hope the emotion and desperation of the chapter came through.**

 **I would love to hear what you guys think!**

 **BelhavenOnTap the willow bark part in the beginning is dedicated to you :)**


	42. Days Like This

**Days Like This**

It'd been one day since the endotracheal tube was removed from my esophagus, or in layman's terms Hershel yanked the plastic tube out of my throat.

It'd been two days since my life-threatening fever receded warranting the removal of my IV, or in layman's terms Hershel yanked the needle out of my vein.

It'd been three days since I nearly drowned in my own blood, or in layman' terms almost died, no Hershel required, thank god.

"Should be restin'." I glared at my brother-in-law, drumming my fingers against my leg and tapping my foot in a nonsensical pattern. "Just sayin'."

The sick were still being held hostage in A block as a precautionary measure. The medication Daryl brought back did wonders to beat back the majority of the symptoms from the virus, but everyone recovered at different speeds. Unfortunately for me my body moved at a rate that impressed Hershel and Bob, but also made them skeptical I could fall victim to a relapse.

After only 24 hours of antibiotics, fluids, and pain relievers flowing through my veins I felt like a new woman. Now, 72 hours later, I was liable to claw my way through the concrete walls with my bare hands. If I was forced to stay locked in the cellblock for another 24 hours I was using the leftover Drano in the next cell to make a bomb and blast my way out. For the sake of our already paltry defenses Hershel and Bob's better remove the isolation protocols.

"How did you get in here anyway?" I asked.

Daryl and Maggie had risked exposure before anyone could stop them three days ago. However, after the initial walker infestation in A block was dealt with, and Glenn and I were stabilized, the first order of business was setting up a nearly impenetrable roadblock barring anyone from entering. Yet here was Merle, lounging on a cot, fiddling with his stub like he wasn't sitting in a deadly petri dish.

"Please," he scoffed, crossing his ankles and getting comfy. "I ain't nobody's bitch."

I rolled my eyes at the all too familiar retort even though it wasn't surprising. Only a Dixon would think you could avoid microscopic germs with nothing but sheer willpower. The power of positivity I guess. I stood up, pacing back-and-forth in agitation.

"Where did Neytiri go?"

In the three days since I refused the call to go towards the light my husband hadn't left my side. For the first 12 hours it was because he was the only thing standing _between_ me and the light. He squeezed the plastic bag attached to the tube in my throat like clockwork every five seconds. He staunchly refused to relinquish the task for even a second, not even to Hershel. I worried he might pass out from pure exhaustion and kill me inadvertently, but he never wavered. As seconds morphed into minutes then transformed into hours he held vigil, eyes locked on my face like I might suddenly disappear out from under him, pumping precious oxygen into my lungs. It wasn't until Hershel deemed me well enough to breathe on my own that he slept for a few hours, right beside me.

Merle's eyes flicked to me briefly then immediately away making the hair on my arms stand up like the room was suddenly charged full of static electricity. My pacing halted and I turned around to face him. I raised my eyebrows slowly and he coughed awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably under the scrutiny. His eyes bounced around the cell like a hyper toddler as he tried and failed to appear nonchalant. He was hiding something.

"Merle," I warned. The elder redneck sat up, running an exhausted hand through his almost non-existent hair, and my gut clenched in unease. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Tell me."

"Rick asked me to find him."

He kept his voice light, a pathetic last ditch attempt to keep me calm, but it was too late. There was only one reason Rick would want to talk to Daryl and we both knew it.

Carol.

I may have been close to death at the time, but I remembered with vivid clarity the horror story surrounding her sudden "departure" from the prison. I hadn't told Daryl mainly because for the majority of the past three days I was either unable to talk or unconscious. Apparently _no one_ told him about her. He didn't know, didn't know she'd killed two people in cold blood, didn't know she'd been subsequently exiled. My heart ached for him, for what hearing this would do to him. She was his friend, probably his best friend, and now she was a murderer and was gone.

I had to get out of here. I needed to find him.

"Not so fast Firecracker." Merle moved faster than I could track. One moment he was lounging on the cot, and the next this hulking frame was blocking my exit. "Ya almost died."

I spread my feet shoulder width apart, sliding my left foot slightly behind my right, arms hanging loose at my side as I curled my hands into fists. To the casual observer I appeared relaxed, nonthreatening, but Merle was far from a casual observer. His face hardened even as he readied his body for the attack he knew was coming.

"Lil' sister," he tried, his own stance widening in preparation for an all-out assault. "Calm down."

"Move."

He held his flesh hand up, trying to get me to pump the breaks.

"He'll be fine." Liar. He saw the skepticism on my face and harrumphed. "Fine he's gonna be pissed, but he'll get over it." I narrowed my eyes and his lips thinned. "Don't gimme yur murder face. She made her bed."

"Move."

I took a deep breath, cracking my neck. I was getting out of this cell even if I had to go through Merle to do it. I didn't want to cause him any permanent damage so bare knuckle brawling it was. There was only one thought in my mind and that was Daryl.

He huffed in exasperation and it was so un-Merle-like I would have laughed if he wasn't keeping me from the person I loved most in this world. The power pumping through my body shouldn't be possible given I was near death a mere three days ago, but where my redneck was concerned I was capable of almost anything, no matter the circumstances.

"Ya ain't ready to be outta here yet."

I raised both my hands, rolling my shoulders as I contemplated how whoop his ass in the most loving way possible.

"Are you gonna make me do this?" I asked, my last attempt to get him to move before I lost my shit all over him. He hesitated for a half-second before common sense prevailed and he stepped aside. I lowered my hands, secretly glad he conceded. "Come on."

He followed me out of the cell, resigned to the fact that if he couldn't contain me he might as well join me.

"Carol was right," he mused, falling in step beside me. A pang of sadness hit me at the mention of her name. "This is why ya ain't got no friends."

"Not true," I said, pushing away the melancholy. "You're my friend."

"We ain't friends. We're family." I glanced at him as we exited A block, the nervous guard posted at the door too scared to utter a single word of protest. "I ain't gotta like ya. I just gotta live with ya."

"How very Confucius of you."

We didn't find Daryl or Rick in C block, and everyone we asked had no clue about the whereabouts of either man. The longer it took to track them down the more my nervousness increased.

"Hey Carl, have you seen Daryl or your Dad?"

He shrugged, "No."

Jesus Christ. How hard was it to keep track of one redneck and a pig farmer?

"Why are you looking for them?"

"We're playing hide-and-seek," I answered absently, scanning the yard.

"I couldn't tell you even if I knew. That's cheating."

Merle and I watched him walk away speechless.

"Kid ain't the brightest light bulb on the porch," he pondered.

"Says the man who thinks the moon landings were faked."

"Hey! There ain't no proof it actually happened!"

"You mean other than the moon rocks they brought back?"

"How ya know those ain't just regular rocks?"

"Oh my god."

I covered my face with hands. I couldn't believe I actually missed A block. I huffed out a frustrated breath trying to figure out where we hadn't looked yet, and that's when it hit me. It wasn't _where_ we hadn't looked it was _who_ we hadn't seen.

"Where's Tyreese?"

"Hell if I know," Merle replied, looking around like he might magically appear out of thin air. "Man's been obsessed with tryin' to figure out who killed his ol' lady."

No kidding. He'd nearly choked the life out of me thinking I had a hand in it while the real culprit stood beside me in silence. If I was a wolf in sheep's clothing Carol was a serial killer disguised as a housewife. Never in a million years would I think her capable of something like that. If it wasn't for the fact she confessed outright I still wouldn't believe it. I didn't know what was worse, that she'd done it or that she felt zero remorse.

A high-pitched whistle sounded overhead and like a complete moron I froze, tipping my head back to look at the clear, blue sky with a confused frown. I knew that sound, heard an almost identical one every day for a solid year while deployed to Iraq, but this wasn't Iraq. It was Georgia, and my brain simply refused to comprehend the whistling sound getting louder and louder was a 105 millimeter tank round getting closer and closer.

Thankfully Merle's shock abated quicker than mine. He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me to the ground and diving on top of me.

"Get down!"

Merle's huge body engulfed mine and I struggled to breathe under his weight. We hit the ground seconds before the round collided with a building to our left, demolishing the structure. The shell exploded with a deafening blast, and I curled my body into a ball, Merle's arms covering my head. Chunks of concrete and debris blasted out in a spray white dust that clogged the air. I coughed, trying to breathe through the thick air, my fragile lungs having a difficult time.

A huge piece of the building landed a few feet from where we lay prone, and I stifled a yelp as the ground shook violently beneath us. I tried to make myself even smaller, folding my long limbs into my body. Merle, who was a few inches shorter than I was, somehow managed to shield most of my body with his own, but it was a wasted effort. If we stayed out in the open much longer they would need a vacuum cleaner to collect what was left of us. There was absolutely _no way_ I was telling Daryl his brother was killed by a tank on the same day he found out his BFF was channeling her inner Jeffrey Dahmer.

"We need to move!" I screamed, breaking into a coughing fit when I inhaled nothing but concrete dust.

Merle pressed my head back into the ground, covering the majority of it with his flesh hand as the tank fired another round.

"Keep yur head down damn it!"

I heard screaming behind us followed closely by doors slamming and boots pounding on the concrete. What I didn't hear was the tank firing so I shoved against Merle's chest. If he didn't get off me I would suffocate long before whoever was outside the gate turned us into a pile of goo.

"Get off me you big lug." And lay off the jerky for heaven's sake.

I shoved his chest again only this time instead of accomplishing nothing but hyper-extending my elbow he flew off me. I was about to congratulate myself on the display of raw strength until I saw Daryl above me, hands curled in his brother's shirt as he tossed him to the side without a second glance.

"Oh, so that's how it is?!" Merle shouted, dusting himself off and standing up, radiating annoyance. "Yur welcome ya ungrateful asshole!"

Daryl said nothing, eyes scanning me from head to toe, hands floating over my body looking for injuries. I gave him a half-hearted thumbs up, coughing up what was left of my lungs. He didn't look convinced, but given the circumstances there was little he could do. He helped me sit up, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ears.

"Is there a tank outside the gate?" He looked over my shoulder and glared, sending me a curt nod. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Help me up."

Looks like I brought a gun to a tank fight. Fuck my luck.

Grabbing my upper arms he pulled me to my feet with in one swift motion. He automatically tucked me into his side like being close to him could protect me from a tank. I guess when all else fails you could always count on delusions of grandeur.

I glanced at Merle who was snarling like a rabid dog, eyes locked on the enemy parked outside our front gate. I didn't want to look. In my heart I knew who was out there. We may not make friends everywhere we went, but there was only one person who hated us enough to find a tank, scrounge up the fuel to make it functional, miraculously locate the last person on Earth who could operate it, and then come all the way here so he could lob 105 shells at us.

The Governor.

When I finally worked up the courage to sneak a peek I rolled my eyes. Even from 100-yards away I could see his stupid sweater vest.

"Man, this ass clown just won't die," I mumbled with a sad shake of my head.

Maggie, Beth and Bob were huddled behind a small building to my right. I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer, but the Lil' Louie staring us down would pound the rickety structure to dust in seconds.

"Ya good?"

Daryl's voice was tense, arm around my waist, but his eyes never strayed from The Governor. Hershel said I needed rest, but I wasn't getting it today. I pulled out of his arms, trying to appear competent even as I swayed slightly on my feet.

"Gotta be." His hunter eyes searched my face, and I could see him trying to figure out a way to keep me out of the fight. I stood up straight, injecting my voice with confidence I didn't feel. "I'm fine."

I needed him focused on the enemy, not me, if either of us had a chance of surviving till sundown.

"Rick!" The Governor yelled, standing on top of the tank. "Come down here! We need to talk!"

The tank, cars and army standing behind him didn't exactly scream, _"Let's talk"_. To me it screamed, _"I came to kill you and dance on your graves"_ , but I'd been accused of being too negative on more than one occasion.

"It's not up to me!" Rick hollered. "There's a council now! They run this place!"

One, Crazy wasn't going to give a flying fuck about our stupid council. Two, the council didn't run shit. Not really. Not when it came to things like this.

"Is Hershel on the council?" he gloated and my throat went bone dry. He pointed to a vehicle and a woman pulled Hershel out of the back, hands bound behind him. I heard Maggie and Beth crying, but kept my eyes fixed on the old man. "What about Michonne?"

"No," I whispered, taking an unconscious step forward.

After everything we'd been through to keep her out of his clutches there she was, on her knees, completely at his mercy.

"She on the council too?"

"I don't make decisions anymore!" Rick's voice was desperate.

We were all in danger, but Hershel and Deadpool's heads were squarely on the chopping block.

"You're making the decisions today Rick," The Governor informed him. "Come down here and let's…let's have that talk."

Rick's face was unreadable when he turned, but I'd known him long enough to know what he sought, support and approval. Daryl gave him a subtle nod and his eyes slide to me. I pressed my lips together, nodding my head in agreement even though I hated it. We had no choice. He had to go.

Our former leader turned pig farmer licked his lips before moving to Carl and I looked away. No matter what The Governor said we weren't getting out of this without people dying. The question was who and how many? As I watched Rick make his way to The Governor I tried to smother the feeling of desperation.

"We can't take 'em on," Daryl explained, taking charge as we circled up. "Whatcha see Red?"

"Multiple high powered rifles and semi-automatic weapons with high capacity magazines. Everyone has at least two to three additional magazines strapped to their persons. There are a handful of M203 grenade launchers being wielding by men wearing BDUs which could mean their prior military, or they raided the Salvation Army. No way to tell until bullets start flying. The rest are civilians. They look scared so chances are good they'll falter when the shit hits the fan, but he's got some hardliners in there that won't scare easy. I see two machine guns that can cut through our walls like paper, and that's not counting the one on top of the big ass tank."

Ten sets of eyes stared back at me.

"What?"

I looked behind to see what had them all spooked. Nothing. Merle put a hand on his hip, giving me a disapproving shake of his head.

"Need to work on yur delivery."

Daryl glanced beyond the fence, deep in thought, not the least bit startled by my observational skills or blunt force delivery.

"Admin building?" he asked me and I nodded grimly.

Fleeing wasn't really my style. Most people had fight or flight instincts. I had fight then fight some more instincts, but it wasn't just my life on the line. There were kids in here and we owed it to them to give them a chance, even if it was a slim one.

"Go through the admin building like we planned," he directed Sasha who looked slightly better than death warmed over.

"Do I look that bad?"

Merle snorted, "Ya wish ya looked that good."

Well that was depressing because she looked like absolute dog-shit.

"We ain't got the numbers no more." Daryl continued to hash out the logistics with a grim Sasha. "When's the last time someone checked the stash on the bus?"

"Carl." I motioned the boy over, bending down on one knee. "I need you to go inside and get my pack and rifle. Grab any ammunition you can find and stop by your dad's cell and get the last grenades." He nodded, turning to run, but I snagged his arm, standing up slowly. "Walk, don't run."

I stood up just as Daryl told the group, "Things go south everyone heads for that bus. Let everybody know."

"What if everybody doesn't know when things go bad?" Tyreese looked scared. He should be. "How long do we wait?"

"As long as we can," Daryl replied.

This was a terrible plan.

Carl was back a few minutes later handing me my pack, rifle and the last of our grenades. I clipped a few on my belt and handed the rest to the Dixon brothers before pulling out magazines for my PPQ and extra ammo for my rifle and strapping them to my body so they would be easily accessible. When I was done I was easily 10 pounds heavier and groaned a little, the pack on my shoulders feeling slightly heavier than I remembered. Daryl was passing out weapons to everyone and I gave Carl's shoulder a squeeze. He smiled up at me sadly.

"It's OK if you want to go to the bus" I told him.

It was OK if he was scared. It was OK to hide.

"I'm staying."

"You remember what I taught you?" He swallowed, eyes wide, but nodded yes. "Good. Keep your head down, and don't take any unnecessary risks. Trust your instincts, and if all else fails you run."

"But…"

I shook my head firmly. "Run and don't look back, do you hear me?" His eyes glistened with tears he somehow held back. I pulled him in for a hug, his small arms going around my neck. "You're going to make it. I love you."

"I love you too Aunt Alex."

I let him go, gesturing to a spot on the fence that offered the most protection which was a joke. They had a tank for fuck's sake, what good were a couple of stacked, wooden pallets going to do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, that's what.

My face hardened, my body taught with wrath I longed to unleash on the people outside the fence. I was going to make them pay for this. They may kill us all before this was over, but not before I took a significant portion of them with us.

"Damn, I thought ya looked scary back in the cell," Merle chuckled.

I adjusted the grip on my rifle trying to sneak a subtle peek at my comrades only to find them all looking at me with fearful eyes.

"Murder face?"

Merle smirked, "Just a bit."

I tried to tone down my homicidal urges while Daryl passed out the last of the weapons, but when Merle said smiling just made it worse I gave up trying to put them at ease. They would just have to learn to live with the murder face. Odds were they would only have to live with it for the next few minutes anyway.

Daryl hesitated before handing Bob a handgun, and I cocked my head to the side. Well _that_ was interesting. He gave Beth an assault rifle, a weapon she'd never held before much less fired without missing a beat, but was uncertain about giving Bob a puny pistol.

"Ya good?"

The venom dripping from the two-syllable question made me take a tiny step back.

"Yeah," Bob assured him, eyes bouncing around like a crack addict jonesing for a fix. Daryl slapped the handgun into his wobbly hand.

"Ya better be." He took a menacing step closer, looking at me for a moment before his deadly eyes focused on the former medic. The man flinched, unable to hold his gaze. "Ya get anyone killed out here yur a dead man."

Bob's looked at me for help, but he was on his own. I had no idea what had ruffled Daryl's feathers, and frankly I didn't want to. Whatever he did the redneck considered it a major transgression, and I didn't get involved with major transgressions. He would have to address that with upper management.

"I understand."

I watched Bob fumble with the handgun for a few seconds almost feeling sorry for him. His hands shook so much he almost dropped it, twice.

"Here," I held my hand out and he handed the gun over. I quickly took it out of the holster, ejecting the magazine to make sure it was actually loaded before slamming it home, pulling back the slide, and offering it to him. "Keep your finger off the trigger until you intend to fire."

He nodded jerkily. "I know." Could've fooled me. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He swallowed hard, "Your husband's going to kill me, isn't he?"

Sure looked like it.

"Nah, The Governor will get you long before Katniss has the chance." He looked like might pass out so I took mercy on him. "Thanks for keeping me alive."

I didn't understand Daryl's beef with him, but he shoved a tube down my throat and saved me from certain death. Making sure he had a loaded, functioning gun before we died was the least I could do.

I directed Bob and his bumbling hands to another section of the fence, pointing out his left and right limits for firing, and reminding him to be ready to move if they tried to flank us. He nodded easily enough, but the glazed over look in his eye, and his inability to walk without tripping did little to bolster my confidence.

I hastily made my way to the Greene daughters, quickly checking their weapons, moving them behind more substantial cover, and offering what little comfort I could since their father was at the mercy of a mad man.

The Governor popped off a few rounds unnecessarily killing walkers that were too far away to be of any real concern and I internally cringed. Well, if the tank hadn't attracted every walker in the nearby vicinity that should about do it.

"Shit," I scanned the woods, hearing the low growls and distant snarls that signaled approaching walkers. "Daryl, we need to get the kids on the bus."

He jogged over to me, crossbow on his back, rifle in his hands.

"What? Why?"

Tyreese didn't sound opposed to the idea, just curious, but I ignored him.

"Someone needs to get Nugget."

My stomach knotted painfully when I realized Beth was out here and Carol was gone. Who did that leave taking care of the baby? Strangers my mind screamed, defenseless strangers. Sensing my rising panic Daryl put a steady hand on my arm. I took a deep breath, keeping my voice low.

"We can't win, but we can hold them off long enough to give the others a chance to get away." His face was stoic as he looked at something over my shoulder. "One way or the other, this place is gone."

He looked around at our paltry defenses, a handful of people against a literally army. He saw exactly what I did, defeat. It was simply a matter of how bad. He called out to a man I'd never bothered to get to know and now probably never would, telling him to get everyone out of the cellblocks and on the bus. When he turned around his face was an open book for the first time since we squared off over a deer. I saw every emotion, every unsaid declaration, all his fear for me, for us, written clear as day on his handsome face.

We didn't have enough time.

I love you.

Stay safe.

I'll find you.

"Stay alive Dixon," I murmured, unable to find the words to express everything I wanted to tell him.

He was right. We hadn't had enough time, not nearly enough, but something told me if I lived 100 lifetimes I would feel the same. He took a step into my personal space, peering down at me.

"Stay alive Dixon."

He repeated my words with more confidence than I managed.

The look on his face was so intense I was drawn closer unconsciously. I was a moth. He was the flame. I put my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under my palm, and prayed to any god that would hear me to see him through this. Take my life, take _anything_ , take _everything_ , but please, spare him.

His body shivered slightly, eyes squeezing closed for a beat before he crushed me against his body, holding me so tight it was almost painful. My fingers dug into the back of his angel vest, anxiety clawing at my throat. There was still so much I wanted to say, but we were out of time. I'd lived most of my life full of regret. I refused to add another to the list. I'd gotten very little right in my life, but in this I wouldn't fail him.

"I love you." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up-and-down. I reached up, cupping his face in my hand. "I'll see you again."

My heart ached with loss I couldn't explain considering I was still in his arms. I pulled at his vest, dragging him closer even though there was no room between us, unwilling to let him go.

"I love ya Red," he choked out. "I'll see ya again. This side or the other."

There was so much uncertainty in this world, especially at this very moment, but that simple statement gave me a sense of peace I'd longed for my entire life. I would always find him. In any lifetime, any world, any universe, in life or in death, I would always find him. As I stood on the brink of losing him my only wish was to have found him sooner so I could have loved him longer. He called to me, a song only I could hear. Loving this man was my redemption.

He pulled away slightly, pressing his lips against mine in a punishing kiss that rocked me down to the souls of my boots. He devoured me, owned me, right there on the brink of war, with everyone watching, and I wanted to cry because it felt a lot like goodbye.

"Christ, if I'd known I'd have to watch ya neckin' I would've let the tank kill me," Merle grumbled, shifting further away.

He kissed each corner of my mouth before resting his forehead against mine, ignoring his brother who continued to bitch at the PDA.

"Don't do nothin' stupid."

I smirked, "I didn't get all dressed up for nothing."

There was a psycho outside our gates holding our friends hostage with an army at his back. Oh, and don't forget the tank. Yeah, I was doing something stupid. You could take that shit to the bank.

He gave me his signature sexy smirk that me sigh dreamily, and I swore to everything holy I was going to kill The Govenor for cock blocking.

"Come here man."

Daryl pulled his brother aside, the two exchanging a few quick words that ended with a gruff hug and Daryl stalking off to his defensive position. Merle walked right up to me, raised his eyebrows in challenge, and aimed his rifle at The Governor. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that convo was about. It appeared I would be beating these jackasses like the stole something with a shadow. I didn't need help being awesome and Merle was forever cramping my style, but having him beside me was comforting.

"Switch places with me," I instructed, moving around him so I was on his left.

"Damn Southpaw."

"One armed hillbilly."

He grinned at me, "Ya ready for this?"

"I'm always ready for a fight."

"Ain't that the truth."

I knew he was referring to earlier in A block, but I wasn't and sobered up instantly. I was always ready for war, always prepared to take a life. It was who I was, what I did. I was built for days like this.

Going down this road was nothing knew, but it also wasn't the real challenge. The true enemy wasn't outside the gate. It was inside of me. There was exactly one person who could save me from myself when this was over, and if he didn't survive the fury I'd unleash on the world would make the walking dead look like a junior high slumber party.

I knelt down behind cover, rifle tucked into my shoulder, looking through my scope. Rick was pleading passionately with The Governor, but the arrogant prick stayed perched atop a tank, giving nothing.

I saw Martinez hovering nearby holding a grenade launcher and ground my teeth together. We'd been frenemies in the past, but today we were straight up enemies. This was the second time he'd aimed a grenade launcher at me. I may believe in second chances, but it didn't mean I thought everyone deserved one.

"Martinez," I mumbled under my breath.

"Fuck that guy," Merle spit. Amen brother.

"Time for him to die."

"Damn straight."

See you on the other side Martinez.

Rick continued to plead for peace, undeterred by The Governor's refusal to bend. He waved his arms around, screaming for mercy, for compromise, and in that moment I was proud to call him my friend. I was even prouder to call him our leader. The Governor hopped off the tank and I tensed, following him with my rifle. When he strolled in front of the tank holding Deadpool's sword my stomach bottomed out like the first big drop on a roller coaster.

"Red!" Daryl hollered.

"I got him."

I kept him dead center even as Rick continued to try and talk him down. I had no idea what the hell he was saying, but I saw the almost undetectable shift in the resolve of the army surrounding The Governor. Their heads bobbed back-and-forth, eyebrows furrowed in response to the pig farmer's words. Even The Governor looked hesitant as he moved the blade away from Hershel's throat slightly.

He said something to Rick, something I couldn't make out, but it made my heart beat faster and palms sweat. I squeezed the trigger on instinct at the same time The Governor exploded into action, the sword swinging down with violent force. I watched in horror as The Governor's face twisted into a malevolent snarl knowing with absolute certainty my bullet would impact a second too late. That was all it took. A second could mean the difference between life and death, today it meant death. I was too slow and it would cost Hershel his life.

The razor sharp blade cut into Hershel's neck like it was cutting through silk. The blade sliced open his throat, cutting through muscle and bone like they weren't there, blood spraying in a 180 degree arc. My bullet slammed into The Governor's chest, whirling him around as he cried out in pain, clutching the gaping wound. Maggie and Beth's screams made the hair on my neck stand up as their father staggered to the side. The wound was fatal, but it hadn't killed him instantly. He would bleed to death, suffer in unfathomable pain before he succumbed to the injury.

"No!" Rick shrieked, backing up as he drew his Python and fired.

Three men converged on The Governor, dragging his body behind the tank and I could only hope he suffered immensely before he went to Hell. I picked out a man standing beside a truck and put a bullet in his brain while Merle opened fire beside me, covering Rick who ran for the burned out bus.

All at once the prison exploded into violence. Bullets flew from both sides as people screamed and yelled, utter chaos turning the quiet day into a bloodbath. I hardly noticed. I felt none of the panic swirling around the prison. In fact, I felt next to nothing, more comfortable in the fog of war than the serenity of peace. I watched Deadpool rolling on the ground trying to find safety among our enemies. I killed two men sneaking up behind her before she rounded a car and disappeared from sight.

Rick took a bullet to the leg and I cursed, ignoring the bursts of fire kicking up dust at my feet and a few dangerously close to my head, finding one target after another and taking them down. They may have the numbers and they definitely had the weapons, but they didn't have the training. They fired with wild abandon, wasting ammunition that had yet to find its target, but I knew we were screwed as soon as the man in the turret of the tank waved his hat in the air.

"Here they come!" I yelled.

The tank groaned and the wheels squeaked as it lurched forward, a group of people crouching behind it using it for cover from the hail of gunfire. The massive machine tore through our fence like it wasn't there, opening up a pathway for people, vehicles and walkers alike. The cars fanned out and I cursed when I saw The Governor hobbling forward, a hand pressed to his chest covered in red, urging his people to attack.

"Daryl, on the right, they're trying to flank us!" I screamed, only catching a fleeting glimpse of his angel wings as he ran to a new position. "Merle, cover me!"

"What the fuck…"

I ran to the left, hastily slinging my rifle across my back and scooping up an M4 I'd pre-positioned earlier, flicking the safety to semi. There were a cluster of vehicles moving in on our left, a sizeable group hunkered behind the bumpers. The only one I recognized was Martinez and I shook my head. It was bad enough a tank was inching its way closer there was no way I letting a grenade launcher behind our lines.

They were moving slow, too slow, and that made them the perfect target. I grabbed a grenade from my waist, pulling the pin and throwing it into the middle of the three cars. Martinez shouted a warning I couldn't make out as I dove behind a pair of steel drums, covering my head with my hands.

 **BOOM!**

The detonation was earsplitting and followed closely by a blinding flash of light that made my eyes water. The fuel in the cars caused secondary and tertiary explosions that sent ripples of heat waves cascading through the air. I cringed when I saw a man completely engulfed in flames screaming in agony as he ran in the opposite direction. His face was unrecognizable, but the backwards hat was a dead giveaway. Swallowing down the bile in my throat I fired a single round, his body dropping a second later still on fire.

"See you in Valhalla Martinez."

I knew the moment I met him I would have to kill him one day, but I hoped he would disappear along with The Governor, never to be seen again. Per the norm karma wasn't taking requests and dedications.

Dragging my eyes away from the charred remains I jumped up, running back to Merle faster than The Governor's men could recover. It didn't occur to me until I slide to a stop next to my brother-in-law I might be safer behind the drums.

"Are you fuckin' crazy!" Merle screamed while I panted next to him, coughing a few times.

"Jury's…still…out."

I popped up, firing two shots at men closing in on us before ducking down still trying to suck air into my lungs. The firefight raged and Merle was forced to focus his attention on killing other people instead of me.

Between the two of us we decimated anyone stupid enough to stick their head out anywhere near us, but there was still a tank we had to deal with. Our efficiency caused the tank to take notice, the turret turning with a mechanical groan until the barrel was pointed directly at us.

"Time to go!" I exclaimed.

Merle pulled me to my feet, dragging me behind him as we hauled ass. I had no idea where we were going, but anywhere was better than taking a 105 round to the forehead. When the tank fired the vibrations from the machine were so violent it caused us to stumble moments before the shell obliterated a window above us. The tank groaned, the gunner adjusted aim before he fired again. This time the shell soared over all our heads, destroying a wall a good 50 feet away.

"Even when they have a tank they can't hit shit," I murmured, sliding out from behind a wall onto one knee and firing three rounds, three men dropping in rapid succession.

"They ain't the problem."

I looked at him in confusion and he pointed his stub behind me. Walkers, lots and lots of walkers. There were easily 40 slowly making their way into the yard, and with the steady flow pouring out of the woods the prison would be overrun within the hour. My head snapped to the side at the sound of the tank busting through the last fence. Our time was up.

"We have to give them time to save as many people as they can."

Merle was not one for self-sacrifice, but there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, if I stayed, he stayed. Daryl probably made him swear a blood oath or worse, a pinky promise. He wouldn't leave my side unless I was with him or dead.

"Are you with me?"

"Yur a damn fool."

He ejected his magazine, reaching into a cargo pocket and retrieving another, reloading faster than someone with two hands. Impressive.

"Is that a yes?" He gave me the infamous Dixon scowl. Yeah, he was with me. "You take that side. I've got this one. We'll meet up over there." He stood up, tucking his rifle firmly into his shoulder, but before he could leave I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "If it's not too much trouble could you please bring my husband with you?"

"Christ."

The severity of our situation was reflected on his normally carefree face. I hugged him, surprising him as his body rocked back slightly, but he wrapped his arm around me, squeezing tight. I let him go just as quickly and he gave me a single nod before I sprinted away, diving for cover behind an overturned picnic table. I came face-to-face with the wide eyes of a Woodbury survivor I didn't know, and now didn't seem like a particularly important time to remedy the oversight. I scrambled into a crouch, staying low while I moved to the edge of the table.

"Hey you," I called out. "When I tell you to I want you to jump up, fire off two shots and then get down." He stared at me like I had a dick growing out my forehead. "Hey!" I waved my hand in front of his sweaty face, his eyes finally focusing on me. "Two shots, anywhere but at me. Can you do it?"

He paled, but nodded and I prayed he didn't end up getting us both killed.

"Get ready," I instructed and he stuttered what sounded like a quick prayer in another language. Hopefully he was praying he wouldn't fuck this up cause I sure was. "Amen." He swallowed hard, waiting for the signal. "Now!"

He jumped up, shooting two rounds that would probably land somewhere in Atlanta next year, but it did the trick. The plethora of people hiding behind the tank honed in on him, everyone firing at once. I smirked, spinning out from behind the picnic table, bracing an elbow on my knee and returning fire. Before the men could even identify where the shots were coming from I was behind the picnic table and they were down seven men.

"Good job." I smiled at the man, and je leaned forward, puking on my boots. I patted his back in sympathy. "Yeah, me too buddy, me too."

See, I could make friends.

Once he was done praying to the porcelain god I shoved him in the general direction of the bus. There were dozens of walkers swamping the area, but the commotion and noise at the bus caused a group to break off. They lumbered towards the armored vehicle causing the children to scream, pointing at the dead who were lumbering closer. I sprang up, ignoring the gunfire that followed me as I shot the walkers surrounding the bus. I heard someone cry out and skidded to a stop next to a car. Bob was sitting with his back against the car withering in pain next to a frantic Maggie and Sasha.

"Look for an exit wound!" he cried.

The two women looked at him like he was speaking redneck.

"Sit forward." I pushed Bob forward, pulling his shirt collar down roughly and inspecting the wound. "Through and through."

"Good," he said, sounding relieved.

"Get him up," I stated, looking pointedly at the women. "Get on the bus." I covered their escape as they ran for the bus, my heart sinking when it pulled out without them. They hesitated, stopping in the middle of the road, drawing the attention of every gun still in The Governor's service. "Run!"

I stood up, screaming and yelling to draw their attention, quickly killing an older man with white hair before he could return the favor. A young woman with brown hair yelled out a war cry, advancing on my position. I pointed my M4 at her, but when I pulled the trigger the weapon clicked, empty. She sneered, raising her weapon just as I dove behind the car, bullets peppering the small sedan. I stayed down, waiting for the telltale noise that signaled an empty weapon. She had to run out of ammo eventually, right?

Tyreese screamed something over the mayhem and the woman's attention was instantly drawn to him. She changed directions, bullets spraying the vegetable garden he was hiding in. If he made it through this we were having a serious discussion about the minimum requirements for a defensive position. Green leafy vegetables weren't gonna cut it.

I crept around the edge of the car, drawing my PPQ. When I was in position I sprung to my feet, placing a hand on the hood of the car and sliding across it. Before my feet hit the ground I had the woman's head in my cross hairs, but prior to pulling the trigger her head snapped back violently. Her body crumpled like a folding lawn chair, a trickle of blood running down the middle of her head. I looked behind me and unfortunately wasn't surprised to see Lizzie holding a gun less than five feet away. This was irony. The kid had no qualms killing the living, but refused to lay a finger on the dead. The growls of walkers snapped me out of my stupor.

"Get them out of here!" I screamed at Tyreese.

The girls turned and bolted, but they were headed straight into a herd of walkers. I chased after them, shooting at walkers, trying to clear a path, but there were too many and I lost sight of them.

There was an incredible bang and my steps faltered as I slapped my hands over my ears, crying out in pain. The noise was so intense it felt like ice picks were being shoved into my ears. Then all of a sudden I wasn't running. It was like being unexpectedly hit by a rogue wave in the ocean, my feet sweeping out from under me with such force I was helpless to stop it. My body sailed through the air, but it didn't feel like I was falling. It felt like I was floating, but without the peace you would associate with such an experience. The shockwave from the explosion of the tank round made my body feel like it was being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste, my internal organs expanding and contracting so suddenly it was jarring and painful.

Could someone toss a grenade into the tank please?

It felt like I was in the air for ages. My arms and legs thrashed wildly in a vain attempt to gain some sense of equilibrium. The world was surprisingly silent. The only sounds my labored breathing and pounding heart beating so hard against my ribcage I was certain it would pulverize bone. The world snapped back into focus so fast my stomach swam with nausea as I crashed to the ground in a heap of arms and legs, barrel rolling a few times before finally coming to a stop.

I moaned in pain, my body covered in white powder from masonry turned to dust by the blast. I rolled onto my back, turning my head left and right looking for Tyreese, the girls, anyone, but I was alone. I frowned when I heard a creaking, looking around for the source when I heard the unmistakable sound of metal bending.

"What…"

My mouth dropped open, a scream lodging in my throat when I saw what was left of a wall swaying precariously. I rolled onto my side, fingernails digging into the ground as I scrambled out of the way. I dove to my left, barely avoiding the wall when it toppled. I swore I heard someone yelling my name, but by the time the last brick fell I heard nothing but the dead.

I flattened my palms on the ground intended to push myself up, but collapsed with a strangled yell. Tears fell unchecked as I looked down at my right arm and winced, a four-inch piece of rebar sticking out of my bicep. I coughed, chest squeezing from pain and desperation while I grabbed the piece of metal with my left hand. I closed my eyes, hands shaking and gut clenched in apprehension. I knew what came next and it sucked.

I heard Daryl's gravely, southern voice in my muddled brain and choked on a laugh. It sounded a lot like, _"just do it ya pussy"_ .

"Whoo, whoo, whoo," I breathed, eyes squeezed tightly closed. In one swift motion I yanked the shrapnel out of my arm. "Gaaaah!"

I tried to muffle my scream, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead, but it was useless they were already headed my way. I dropped the piece of bloody metal, breathing hard while I tried to think rationally about what to do. The dead drew closer and I knew my only option was to run even though I probably wouldn't get far injured and alone.

"Move Alex."

On shaky legs I stood, stumbling through the rubble of the destroyed building. Dread pooled low in my belly as I made my way to the backside of the prison. I didn't encounter a living soul. I checked every body I came across and I didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse none were my family. The fear I might never see them again, might never know what happened to them, was too much.

Every time I rolled over a body and it wasn't Daryl, Maggie, Rick, Carl, Merle, Glenn or Beth I was thankful, and the thought made me sick with guilt. I hadn't known these people. They weren't my friends. They weren't my family, but they were good people and now they were dead. Someone should miss them. Someone should mourn them. I was the only one there to lay witness to their end, and I didn't even know their names.

At the edge of the woods I stopped, turning around and taking in the devastation. The place we'd once called home was gone. Hours ago it was a thriving community of survivors, but now it was a nothing more than a smoking pile of ruins. It looked nothing like a place children had played, where Glenn and Maggie had gotten married, where we'd made a life.

"Firecracker!"

My head turned to the sharply to the left, and I covered my mouth with my hand. Merle barreled towards me like a freight train, assault rifle hastily slung across his back. He didn't stop, didn't even slow down, crashing into me and wrapping me in one of his infamous bear hugs that until this moment I absolutely hated. I actually laughed when my feet left the ground, but it was short lived, my body reminding me it was currently no bueno. He heard my sharp intake of air, setting me down and holding me at arm's length, eyes searching. He frowned when he saw my arm, but I waved him off.

"I missed you too Captain Hook." I smiled, genuinely happy to see him, and not just because it meant I wasn't on my own. Huh, I bet no one had ever thought _that_ before. "Where's Legolas?"

He couldn't hold my gaze and I almost passed out.

No.

"He ain't in there." He nodded to the smoldering remains of our home, and I sagged against him in relief. Missing I could handle. Dead I could not. "I checked as well as I could. Saw a few bolts leadin' out that'a way."

He pointed in the opposite direction and I silently cursed. There were about 200 walkers between us and _"that'a way"_. There was no way we could take a direct route, not without dying for our trouble which seemed like a waste considering how hard we worked to not die. The growls of walkers were getting progressively louder and I knew we couldn't stay here. We needed to run.

"He's alive." Merle didn't say anything, rubbing his chin in thought and my temper flared. "He's not dead. I would know. I would feel it."

I pointed to my chest, trying not to cringe at the straight up sappiness of my statement. I sounded like one of the women from Carol's porn novels. Not something to aspire to, but it didn't make my claim any less true. I knew he was alive, knew he was out there, and I wouldn't stop until I found him. Merle's eyes dropped to the ground, shoulders hunched and I thought for a moment he was going to make me hurt him or worse leave him, but as always he was nothing if not a surprise.

"Ain't nothin' can kill Daryl, but Daryl."

I grinned at him.

"Damn straight." I was going to find him or I was going to die trying, and apparently so was Merle. "He'll leave a trail."

"Yep."

We ran.

* * *

 **So...I was planning on going on vacation for a week, but then I got back from my vacation and needed a vacation from my vacation. You guys know how it is:)**

 **Anyways, here is the long awaiting (hopefully) next chapter. There is a lot happening in this one as we all know. Alex and Merle are together after the fall of the prison. How do y'all feel about that? Did you like the action sequences? How about the moment with Daryl?**

 **That's a lot of questions, but I missed you guys and am dying to hear your feedback. Hope you enjoy!**


	43. Don't Know Who I Am Without You

**Don't Know Who I Am Without You**

I don't know how far we ran, entirely too far and still not nearly far enough. The sheer volume of walkers in the area forced us to make our circle larger and larger to avoid being caught in a herd we couldn't fight our way through, but if the circumference of our circle got any larger we would cross state lines. I stopped trying to navigate miles ago. My brain was too sluggish for anything except playing follow the leader with Merle, and even that was getting progressively more difficult.

"I can't."

I collapsed to the ground on my back wheezing so loud I was sure to attract every walker in the area. My lungs burned like fire, every intake of air stoking the flames that would surely kill me. My body felt boneless. I'd long since lost feeling in my arms or legs. The thought was mildly concerning, but until I could breathe without the horrid rattling sound originating from my chest I wasn't going to worry about it.

A dull, persistent, nagging pain thumped in my head making my skull feel like it was expanding and contracting as the pressure ebbed and flowed. Black dots danced on the peripheral of my vision making nausea swim in my fragile stomach.

All-in-all I was a hot fucking mess.

Merle doubled back, looking down at me with a grim, concerned face.

"Just a little further."

I shook my head. Nope. No way. Not happening. I was staying right here for whatever time remained in my miserable life, so probably two minutes.

"Quit bein' dramatic."

The effort it took to shoot him the finger was astounding, but somehow I found the strength to persevere.

He sighed, looking around the woods. I could see the tension he carried in his shoulders. It would be dark soon so we needed to find somewhere to spend the night, and unfortunately lying on the ground in the middle of the woods completely unprotected wasn't the best idea.

I wanted to tell him to keep going, leave me behind, whatever kind of self-sacrificing bullshit I was supposed to be spouting, but my mouth was too dry and my tongue felt swollen. Complete sentences were a pipe dream, and my brother-in-law couldn't translate my delirious whimpering.

"Up and at 'em," Merle declared, ignoring my moan of protest when he pulled me to my feet.

He slung my arm over his shoulders, dragging me forward, but I pulled out of his grasp and let gravity do its thing, horrible dry heaves rippling through my body. I dug my hands into the leaves, gagging until nothing but slobber and bile dripped from my mouth. My illness was reluctant to leave me and given the day's events I wasn't surprised. A bottle of water was barely visible through my watery eyes, and I nodded thankfully.

"We have...to find...shelter," I rasped between coughing fits, stating the painfully obvious.

He hummed in agreement and hauled me back on my feet. I threw a weak arm around his shoulder doing my level best to walk like a big girl, but my feet were determined to snuff out every possible tripping hazard.

"Pick up yur damn feet Firecracker!" he chastised, barely catching me before I ate shit when a tree root came out of nowhere and tried to kill me.

"Go fuck yourself Captain Hook."

This next time I tripped he let me fall, and I wasn't mad. Horizontal was much better than vertical at the moment.

"Jesus." He bent down, intending to grab me, but paused, eyes focused on something behind me. "Stay here."

I snorted. Where the else would I go? I could hardly see much less move. Hershel was right, I needed rest. The moment the veterinarian's name floated into my mind my chest squeezed in anguish. He was gone, dead.

I didn't know what was worse, knowing with absolute certainty someone was gone or not knowing anything. I'd seen the bus pull out of the prison full of survivors. I'd covered the girls as they hastily made their escape. I was fairly certain I caught a glimpse of Maggie and Sasha helping a wounded Bob into the woods. I lost track of Daryl the moment The Governor attacked, but all evidence pointed to him making it out. All the evidence meant there was a good chance our group was out there, but I had no idea who much less where. What's worse, there was no guarantee they were still alive.

All I had was was my belief, what Hershel called faith. Faith they were out here, faith they were alive, faith we would find them.

"Found somethin' that will do for tonight," Merle said, jogging back. He hoisted me to my feet, saying nothing when coordination failed me, practically carrying me 100 feet before depositing me next to a tree. He slapped my PPQ into my hands with skeptical eyes. "Think ya could hit the broad side of a barn?"

I grunted, insulted by his insinuation. I could hit _any side_ of the damn barn. I grabbed the weapon with as much indignation as I could muster then promptly dropped it. He sighed, hand on his hip, lips pursed. I studiously ignored the shake of his head as I cleared my throat, shaking out my hands, trying to get some feeling and dexterity back.

"I wasn't ready."

"If ya shoot me..."

I shot him a crooked grin, "You mean again?"

"Stop." My smile fell instantly. "Shit, sorry lil' sister."

"It's fine."

It wasn't his fault he sounded just like his brother when he said that.

"Be right back."

He ran towards an old, country road cutting through the woods and an abandoned car. It would be a perfect place to spend the night if we could get it off the road and somewhat hidden, and by "we" I meant Merle. A waterproof towel would be more useful than I was so I'd leave the heavy lifting to Captain Hook.

I focused all my energy on staying upright while he quickly checked the car for walkers before throwing it into neutral and pushing it into the woods. Once it was far enough off the road to remain unseen he stuffed me in the backseat. I leaned against the door, pack between my legs, trying to ignore the sweltering heat. Supplies meant the difference between life and death so I needed to know what we had to work with.

We had a small first aid kit that wouldn't do much for a serious injury, but would be more than adequate for what we were currently facing. As far as provisions we had two bottles of water that were both full, four granola bars, and a few strips of deer jerky. If we rationed that could last us a four or five days which would be more than adequate given Merle and I both were above average hunters. I had two extra magazines for my PPQ, both full, and a half-full box of ammunition for my rifle. Not enough to storm the beaches of Normandy, but better than nothing. We also had three condoms, and I could damn sure tell you what I _wouldn't_ need on this little adventure. I gathered the prophylactics, unzipping a small side pocket and shoving them in.

"What the..."

My hand brushed against something glossy and I carefully pulled the fragile, shiny paper out the small pocket. My throat dried up when I realized what it was.

A photo.

I held it closer, inspecting it with misty eyes in the dying light. I'd forgotten all about the bootleg camera Glenn swiped from the Big Spot. In the days following the tragic run he made it his mission to take pictures of everyone, whether they agreed or not. I smiled sadly, my finger tip tracing the edges of the picture.

It was a candid shot of Daryl and me. I had no memory of the moment save the picture itself. He was standing in front of me, hands braced on my hips, the height difference between us forcing him to look down at me. He must have said something, I had no idea what, but it must have been funny. My head was thrown back, eyes closed, a huge smile on my face as I braced my hands against my husband's broad chest. He was sporting his signature half smile, half smirk, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he watched me.

We looked happy. We looked in love.

It seemed impossible, the ability to _see love_ , but this picture was proof. I saw it in the way he held me, and the way my body unconsciously leaned into his. It was written on my face in the form of pure joy. It was blindingly obvious in the way he held me, like he was holding his world in the palm of his hand.

"Whatcha got there?"

I hadn't heard Merle get in the car, and licked my lips nervously before handing him the photo. He twisted around in the front seat, one arm stretched out, studying it in silence.

"Good picture."

He handed it back and I nodded absently, taking one last lingering look before carefully stuffing it into my back pocket. It wasn't rational and certainly wasn't crucial to survival in the traditional sense, but this picture was the most important thing owned. I could be separated from my pack in an instant, and I wouldn't chance losing it.

"Do you think you can..."

I trailed off, holding up the small first aid kit. He nodded mutely and I scooched forward so he would have access to the wound on my arm. He worked silently and methodically, dousing sterile gauze in alcohol, but hesitated with his hand hovering over the puncture wound.

"Just do it."

His lips thinned a split second before he slapped the gauze on my arm. My body bucked in protest, the burning sensation racing from the puncture wound up my arm causing bile to bubble in my throat. I shoved my knuckles into my mouth, trying to muffle my screams of pain.

"Almost done," he encouraged, holding my arm firmly in place. "Now gut up."

He cleaned around the small, but deep injury, using a flashlight to make sure no debris was still lodged inside. I buried my head against the seat, tears streaming down my face when he dug out a particularly deep piece of metal lodged in my arm. He worked in uncharacteristic silence, the only sound my occasional moan of pain or strangled gasps, but I saw the concerned pinch of his eyebrows.

When he was finally done sweat coated my forehead, and I felt close to passing out. Merle gently spread antibacterial ointment on a bandage and firmly wrapped it around my arm several times before tying a knot to keep it in place. We both knew the ointment wouldn't do much to stop an infection, but it was better than nothing and it was all we had. He stuffed the contents of the kit back into the box, putting it in my pack while I slumped against the door, the burning sensation fading to a dull throb.

"Walkers will still be able to smell us," I noted absently.

"There were a few fresh ones lying by the car," Merle said, turning sideways himself and stretching his legs across the center console. "Spread some walker guts on the car so it should do the trick for tonight."

Yuck. Good idea, but yuck.

I heard him tell me to get some rest, but was already halfway to a REM cycle. I didn't dream, thank god, my brain too exhausted even in sleep. One minute we were discussing walker guts and the next thing I knew the car dipped violently, throwing me across the backseat. I pried my face off the leather not even bothering to hide the drool that metastasized into a long string of saliva trailing from the side of my mouth.

"Almost feel bad for Darlina," Merle mused from the front seat. "That's 'bout the least sexy thing I ever seen in my life. Damn."

A little shutter ran down his spine to punctuate the point.

I groaned, swiping the string of spit, and sitting up gingerly. My body felt like it had been shoved through a paper shredder then set on fire so it took me a solid five minutes to realize Merle was driving the car like he was competing in NASCAR. I bolted up, head swiveling forward and back a few dozen times, mouth hanging open. The sun was almost overhead, but that was impossible because that would mean...I slept all night and half the day.

What? How? Where?

I had a million questions, but somehow all that came out was, "The fuck?"

Thankfully Merle spoke my language even if I still didn't speak his.

"Tried wakin' yur snorin' ass up for 10 minutes b'fore I decided to just take off."

I gaped at him. He just _"took off"_ ? What did that even mean? We couldn't find Daryl's trail in a fucking car, and we sure as hell couldn't follow it. My brother-in-law's Vulcan mind meld may not be up to par with my husband's, but my displeasure was plainly obvious.

"Cool yur tits Firecracker."

I growled, "Merle..."

"Ya ain't in no condition to walk, not fast anyway," he gave me a pointed look I couldn't argue with, not with a straight face. "Once we get back 'round to the north side of the prison we can hop out, see if we can find Darlina's tracks."

That made...sense which was a difficult thing to rectify considering the source. Sense and Merle Dixon went together like ice cream and pickles. Thinking about ice cream and pickles made my stomach go squishy, and pressed my lips together. When we rounded a corner fast enough to pull 5 G's I almost puked all over the seat like The Exorcist. My mouth watered uncontrollably and I felt the acidic taste of bile burning the back of my throat.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over!" I screamed already pulling on the door handle, slapping my other hand over my mouth.

"Jesus Christ."

The brakes squealed in protest at the abrupt change in speed. I threw myself out of the car, stumbling a few feet before doubling over and puking on the side of the road. My stomach contracted and I bent over further as my body tried to expel the sickness. When I finally stopped dry heaving and was relatively sure I wasn't going to start again I stood up, wiping my mouth, and ignoring the way my legs shook. The passenger side door was open and I flopped down in the seat with a heavy sigh.

"Take these," Merle instructed, two white pills in his hand.

"Where did you get them?"

They were antibiotics, antibiotics Daryl brought back from the veterinary college.

"Thought ya might need 'em."

I was touched. Merle stole antibiotics from other sick people in case I needed them. That was so sweet I might cry. I popped the pills into my mouth, taking the water bottle he offered and swallowing them. He handed me a granola bar and I recoiled.

"Can't take 'em on an empty stomach." I pushed my back against the door to put more distance between me and the offending food. "A'right, have it yur way. Lemme know when ya feel like yackin' again."

I snatched the bar out of his hand, grumbling when I tried and failed to open the wrapper. Merle sighed, snatching the bar back and tearing the wrapper open with his teeth.

"Eww, Merle cooties."

"Says the woman who flooded the backseat in slobber."

I huffed, sticking out my lower lip in a pout any toddler would envy. He grinned at me, shoving the granola bar into his mouth. I slowly broke off a corner, reluctantly placing the food on my tongue experimentally. I chewed slowly, fully expecting it to make a sudden reappearance on the windshield, but instead my stomach rumbled hungrily. In an instant my nausea abated and I was ravenous. I stuffed another piece of granola in my mouth and moaned. Holy crap, did these always taste this good? Merle glanced at me, eyebrows raised suggestively, and I rolled my eyes.

"Cool your tits," I said around a mouthful of food.

"Don't steal my sayin'."

"It's not yours." I stuffed the rest of the bar into my mouth, my cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. "Howmuchlongeruntilwegetthere?"

"The fuck?"

I chewed faster, washing down the bar I hardly had a chance to taste.

"Don't steal my sayings." I laughed when he mumbled something under his breath, trying again, "I said, how much longer until we get there?"

"Ten minutes, maybe less," he said, glancing down. "Not a moment too soon cause this baby's almost outta gas."

Eight and a half minutes later the engine gurgled, sputtered, and finally stopped. We eyed each other briefly, the car rolling to a stop in the middle of the road.

"Well, that's that." I got out, retrieving my stuff from the backseat. "Hey, did you check the trunk for supplies?"

"Nah."

"Pop it will ya?" I asked, positioning myself in front of it, knife out. The latch clicked open, the trunk bobbing slightly and I gestured to the my brother-in-law. "Age before beauty."

He sighed, putting his knife stump under the lid, glancing at me. I raised my knife giving him a slight nod and he swung the trunk open. My face paled and my mouth dropped open as we both took a large step back, not that it would do any good.

"Are those...?"

Merle scratched his chin. "Yeah."

"You were doing donuts in a car filled with military grade explosives?"

I pointed at the claymore mines, but I didn't know why I was so shocked. Just yesterday a tank tried to kill us.

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

We stood there staring at the mines for a good two minutes. At some point I was going to stop being surprised by what Georgian's stashed in their trunk, not today obviously, but someday. How in the ever-loving-fuck did someone get their hands on not one, but **four claymores**? They probably sold them at Walmart.

"I mean," I hesitated, trying not to sound like a lunatic for suggesting this. "We're gonna take them right?"

"Shit yeah," Merle agreed.

"Thank god."

It would be hell trying to sneak these out without him noticing. I gathered up the explosives, blasting caps and firing lines, tucking them into a conveniently located backpack, and handing it to Merle. He frowned at the bag and backing up.

"Don't be such a pussy." He didn't take the bait. Apparently it was OK to be a punk when remote controlled explosives were involved. "I can't carry it," I explained, gesturing to the pack already on my back. He swallowed hard, slowly taking the backpack and putting it on his shoulders. "Don't fall down."

"Fuck off Firecracker."

I laughed, slapping the backpack, and he jumped about a foot in the air.

"Relax, unless we arm them they're harmless."

Mostly.

"We're takin' turns," he promised, hooking a thumb at the backpack.

"Sure thing Satan." We most certainly _were not_. "Come on."

We walked side-by-side down the road, sweating bullets under the constant glare of the harsh sun. We walked in silence for what felt like an hour, following a particularly bendy curve in the road that disappeared into the horizon. So far we'd seen no people, no walkers, and no evidence of people or walkers. I told myself to stay upbeat. At least we weren't finding bodies. When we finally rounded the bend in the road I froze, internally cursing self-fulfilling prophecies.

"The bus," I mumbled, eyes wide.

The bus was stopped in the middle of the road riddled with bullet holes, but it was the pile of bodies behind it that had me running. I drew my weapon even though by the look of things there was no need. I slowed to a walk, pressing my lips together and carefully sidestepping the bodies. Most of them looked like walkers that had been put down with a knife or bullet to the head. All of them were people from the prison. I may not know their names, but I recognized their faces.

My eyes flicked to Merle. "Check the bus. I got these."

I examined the bodies on the ground, making sure they were really dead before crouching down beside them. The bullets holes spanning the length of the bus made it easy to guess what happened after the bus left the prison, but the open back door was different. Someone deliberately let them out so they could put them down.

My bottom lip quivered when I saw an old stuffed animal, a rabbit, partially obscured by a body. I rolled the woman off it, picking up the blood spattered doll with tears in my eyes. It was Molly's. Frantically I searched the bodies looking for the child, but faltered when instead I saw a makeshift cross and a freshly dug grave on the side of the road. I slowly walked to it, swallowing hard when I saw the name _Molly_ carved in the wood. I knelt down, placing the rabbit on the grave with shaking hands.

"He ain't in here," Merle said, hopping down from the back. "None of the others either."

I nodded, standing up and wiping tears from my eyes before turning to face him. He eyed the agonizingly small grave with a grim face.

"This isn't his handy work," I said, drawing his attention away from the grave.

None of the bodies had wounds that even vaguely resembled an arrow. Daryl killed walkers with a certain "flare", and this body count decidedly lacked that flare. Whoever did this was fueled by rage and grief.

"Whoever did this was from the prison. No one else would bother."

"Tracks led this way," he said, pointing into the woods. I walked to him, scrutinizing every footprint.

"Three sets?" He nodded. "Two of them are too small to be a man's." Again he nodded. "Our best bet of finding him is in the woods. He wouldn't travel on the road unless he had no other choice."

Daryl felt most at ease in the woods. It was his element. I'd never met anyone more capable of surviving in the wilderness for an indefinite amount of time. Normally he moved through the woods with the stealth of a ghost, but not this time. He would go out of his way to leave a trail a blind man could follow.

The tracks were easy to follow and led us on a winding trail deep into the woods. They stopped abruptly at a set of train tracks, and I bit my lip as I took in the scene. There were two dead walkers I didn't recognize, but they hadn't been dead long. The bodies were still warm and the blood had yet to congeal. Neither fact helped us find our people, and the obvious scuffle that led to their deaths disrupted the trail.

"Need to find somewhere to stay for the night," Merle said.

I nodded, frustration making me irritable. I'd only been separated from him for a day, 24 hours, but it felt like a lifetime.

"This way."

I followed Merle, keeping my eyes peeled for...something, anything. It wasn't what I saw, but rather what I heard that made me put a hand on Merle's arm, stopping him. He glanced at me and I put a finger to my lips, listening intently, ears straining. I swore I heard something, but the only sound I heard now were birds chirping and then, directly in front of us and getting closer...

"Claimed!"

Without a word Merle went one way and I went the other, both of us taking cover behind massive pine trees. It wasn't the best hiding place known to man, but the sun was setting, blanketing the woods in shadows that played tricks on your mind. It would help, some, and anyone who went around shouting didn't strike me as overly observant.

"That's bullshit!" another man hollered, their voices almost on top of us. "I said it first!"

"Now, now, Len you know the rules," an older man with a white goatee admonished, shaking a single finger. "Lyin' won't be tolerated."

I counted six men who were gathered in a loose circle, all heavily armed. I had no idea what they meant by _"claimed"_ or _"the rules"_ and I didn't want to. These men were what my grandmother called _"men of questionable moral intent"_ or as I called them, "fucktards". My eyes met Merle's who was crouched 10 feet away. He gave me a curt shake of his head, eyes serious for the first time...ever.

'No shit', I mouthed silently in return to the stupid ass warning, and he shot me the finger.

So typical, an armed group of dangerous men less than 20 feet away, and we were more likely to kill each other.

"What did I tell y'all?"

The older man with the white hair and goatee was the clear leader of the group. When he addressed the men everyone dropped their eyes to the ground in submission, and I frowned. He didn't look like much to me, but he clearly had this group pussy-whipped.

"We follow the rules and the world is ours. All it takes is a bit of cooperation. It ain't that hard."

They all mumbled their agreement, none making eye contact, shoulders hunched forward like they expected a beating. I didn't miss the way the other three took a few small steps away from Len.

"Now Len, you know the rules so you fess up."

"I, uh, I..."

"Oh Len."

The leader smiled, walking forward and putting a _"fatherly"_ hand on Len's shoulder. He relaxed slightly and I knew instantly it was a mistake. The leader reared back, slamming a fist into Len's stomach, and sending him to his knees as he gasped for air. The leader clucked his tongue at the man, clearly disappointed a light tap to the stomach was enough to bring him to his knees. He grabbed a fistful of hair, wrenching Len's head back so hard I was surprised it didn't snap right off.

"This is your last warning." If this was a warning I didn't want to see a punishment. "Next time I'm gonna let the boys handle it. You understand?"

Since Len still couldn't breathe he simply nodded. The leader shoved him forward, spitting at the ground next to him before walking away without a backwards glance.

"Let's go, we ain't got a lot of time to find somewhere to hunker down for the night."

A high pitched squeal drew my attention to Merle, and I frowned when I saw his wide eyes and frightened face, but it was the fact he was doing the funky chicken that really threw me. That wasn't hiding. In fact, it was the opposite of hiding. He attempted to scale the tree trunk with the grace of a drunk Spiderman letting loose another muffled squeak, and I buried my head in my hands. After everything, this was going to be how I died.

"You hear that?"

I flattened my back against the tree, trying to make myself as small as possible while shooting a death glare at my one-armed family member. He was finally quiet and dismissed my glare with a wave of his hand, burrowing further into his own tree as the sound of crunching leaves got closer.

"Thought I saw something."

"What?"

Carefully, slowly, I pulled my PPQ out of the holster.

"I don't know. It was like a red streak or somethin'. Over by them trees I think."

I could practically hear Merle's glare, the dickhead. If he didn't hide with the stealth of an elephant stampeding through a china shop my flaming red hair would be a non-issue.

"You mean like a fox?"

"Nah, it was red and gold and..." he trailed off, unsure how to accurately describe my rat's nest. "I ain't never seen nothin' like it.

"Man you done lost it," another laughed. "There ain't nothin' red out here. You high again?"

Please be high. Please be high. Please be high.

"It was half a joint man, lay off."

I sighed in relief. Thank god not everyone said no to drugs.

"Come on b'fore Joe gets really pissed."

I exhaled when the man agreed, both of them turning and walking away. I stayed put until I couldn't hear their footsteps then stalked over to Merle with my hands on my hips.

"What in the hell was that?"

He stood up slowly, unable to meet my accusatory stare.

"Nothin'."

"Nothin'?" I mocked. "You sounded like a 12 year-old girl shrieking about a lost Barbie."

"It was..." Was what, a walker, the Loch Nees Monster, Big Foot? "A spider."

I blinked at him. "A spider?"

"It was big and hairy and started crawlin' on my arm." I nodded with fake sympathy, holding out my hand. "What the fuck ya want?"

"Your man card."

"Fuck ya Firecracker!" he hissed, stomping off in the opposite direction as I laughed, jogging to catch up.

"I totally get it. Arachnophobia is no joke." He shot me a scowl that only made me giggle. "I've got a thing for bees myself."

"Should've let them assholes claim ya."

I wish a motherfucker would. Every second we walked through the woods and didn't find Daryl I grew more and more restless. If this went on much longer I was going to have to pound on Merle to relieve the pressure. I was so amped up right now I could have taken on those jack-wagons with one hand tied behind my back.

"Yeah, I'm not really their cup of tea."

I didn't do claimed. I did ass whooping.

We walked in silence until both of us were teetering on exhaustion. We needed to stop, eat, and sleep or we wouldn't last long out here. I was so lost in thought I nearly collided with Merle who stopped unexpectedly.

"What?" I asked, looking around his shoulder.

What I saw almost brought me to my knees. I stumbled forward, afraid if I looked away it might disappear, but no matter how many times I blinked it was still there, a campsite. I saw the remnants of a fire in the middle and a discarded snake skin draped across a log. A few sticks had been bound together in an obvious attempt to make a lean-to for protection from the weather.

Merle walked forward, waving a hand over the fire pit, checking to see if it was still warm. When he reached in, pushing around the charred sticks left behind I figured it wasn't. I took a tentative step into the abandoned site, hope bubbling inside me even as I tried to reign in my expectations. Whoever made this campsite knew what they were doing, but it didn't mean it was Daryl.

It didn't take long to explore the site it was so small. Clearly whoever made it was traveling alone or with only one other person. A discarded snare caught my eye and I crept closer, my hope multiplying exponentially. Snares were like handwriting, distinct. Everyone made them differently and no two were ever alike. This one had Daryl's messy scrawl written all over it. There was an art to it. A precision with which the knots were tied and the wire meticulously twisted that was hauntingly familiar. I twisted the ring on my left hand, feeling the smooth, painstakingly exact spacing of each twist of the copper wire around my wedding band.

I bit my lip, wondering if I was seeing only what I _wanted_ to see, but when I saw what was carved into the log I fell to my knees. I must have cried out, made a sound of distress, because instantly Merle was at my side, knife stub ready to end the threat. I tried to tell him it was alright, but I nothing escaped my lips. A single tear fell down my face, tracing a path through the dirt as my hand traced the words in the wood.

 **A.D. – Go East**

"Well I'll be damned," Merle muttered, looking at the campsite with new eyes.

It was the first irrefutable proof that he made it out of the prison, that he was alive, and I choked on a sob of relief. I bowed my head, allowing myself a moment to cry. Pain mixed with joy. He was alive or at least he had been a few days ago. We'd lost so much in such a short time. We needed this. I needed this.

Merle placed his flesh hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, and I covered his hand with mine, both of taking a moment to relish this small respite. My husband was alive, his brother, and now we knew where he was headed, east. It wasn't much, hardly anything, but it was a hell of a lot more than we had this morning.

"Gonna set this snare up, see if we can catch some supper."

I nodded, hastily swiping away tears. "I'll get some firewood."

The two of us worked diligently to prepare camp, setting up trip lines to alert us to danger, gathering supplies, clearing the sleeping area, refilling our dangerously low water bottles, and building a fire. Merle managed to catch a small rabbit, roasting it on a stick over the open flames. My mouth salivated watching the juices run down the skinned animal, and I wondered if rabbit ceviche was a thing. Probably not.

"Starin' at it ain't gonna make it cook faster."

"What will?"

He shook his head. "My brother must be glutton for punishment."

In an effort to take my mind off the rabbit cooking in the crockpot a ridiculous thought popped into my mind. Had Merle ever been married or had a serious girlfriend? I scrunched up my nose as I watched him, trying to imagine someone finding him attractive. It was tough, but if I squinted really hard, closed one eye, and ignored the fact we were related by marriage I could see it, a little.

I wanted to know more. It was alright to ask wasn't it? I mean, we _were_ family, and family talked about that kind of stuff. What's more we were friends, most of the time, and friends definitely talked about that stuff. I just needed to ease into it, go slow, get him to feeling comfortable so he'd open up. No problem. I could do this. Slow like a tortoise.

"Have you ever been in love?" I blurted out, slapping a hand over my mouth. Shit. Now he was looking at me and he didn't look happy. "Sorry, I was just wondering if you ever had a girlfriend, like a serious girlfriend, because of course you've had a girlfriend. Who hasn't?" I laughed uncomfortably, my nerves getting the best of me as I continued to ramble. "I mean, I haven't, had a girlfriend I mean, but only because I don't bat for that team. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but that's not the point. The point is you do bat for that team so you probably had one...a girlfriend...at one time...in the past...so I was just wondering...about that."

Normally Daryl came to my rescue when I started to word vomit, but he wasn't here and I found it hard to shut-up. Merle's blank face slammed into place and I fought the urge to squirm under his impassive stare, chastising myself for being an idiot. That was not easing into it! I needed to stop now while I was ahead or less behind.

"Never mind, you don't have to tell me." I waved my hands in the air like ground control waving off an approaching airplane. "It was stupid. I'm stupid, and of course you don't want to tell me that stuff or any stuff. Let's just pretend like it never happened."

Thankfully I managed to finally stop talking and we sat in awkward silence. My eyes flitted all over the camp even though there wasn't much to see given it was pitch black, and of course the rabbit confit still wasn't ready. Maybe I should forgo dinner and just pretend to sleep. I wasn't that hungry, and cold rabbit confit probably tasted the same as piping, hot, juicy, succulent rabbit confit.

Oh who was I kidding?

I wasn't going to bed without eating half the damn rabbit, awkwardness be dammed.

Thankfully his redneck senses finally binged, signaling we could eat the rabbit and not die of salmonella. He pulled the stick off the fire, letting it cool down for a few minutes before using his knife to portion it out. He plopped his half on a piece of torn cardboard and offered me the stick, eyes looking everywhere but me.

I tried to gauge how bad I fucked up. Was he mad? Offended? Never going to talk to me again? Leave me? Christ, he better not leave me. Daryl would kill me if I lost his brother.

I picked at my rabbit, tasting nothing as dread pooled in my belly. I needed to fix this. I _had_ to fix this. But how?

"Her name was Melinda. Used to call her Mel." I froze, a piece of rabbit halfway to my mouth, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. "She was a waitress at a lil' diner in town."

So slow it probably wasn't visible to the naked eye I brought the piece of rabbit to my mouth, chewing and waiting then chewing some more when he didn't continue. Was I supposed to talk now?

"She was real pretty," he mused, not looking at me, eyes locked on his food. "Smart too. Could'va gone to one of them fancy colleges, but her momma got sick and well..." His food lay forgotten on his lap. "We went to high school together, but I never had the nerve to talk to her then. She was outta my league. Dixon's are trash. That's what everybody in town always said and after a while ya start believin' it."

My heart hurt for him. Daryl told me similar stories, and I wanted to hunt down everyone in their hick town and throttle them even though they were probably already dead. They faced abuse at home, harassment at school, and ridicule in town. Did they ever get a moment's peace? The answer was no. Their early years shaped who they were, and try as they might old ghosts still lingered in the shadows.

"After high school I worked as a mechanic in town," he tossed a piece of gristle into the fire. "Decided to eat lunch at the diner one day and there she was. She looked just like I 'membered. I was so damn nervous when she asked for my order only thing I could say was coffee. Must'a had 10 cups," he chuckled and I smiled.

I couldn't imagine it, Merle nervous and fumbling because of a woman. He was normally so self-assure and unbothered by anyone and everything. It was an adorable image.

"Did you ask her out?" I asked softly, afraid to overstep an invisible line, but he shot me a devilish smirk and suddenly it wasn't hard to imagine Melinda the Waitress falling for him.

"Hell no," he laughed, "Not then anyway. Took me 'bout a month to work up to that."

This was more fascinating than The Discovery Channel. I absolutely, 100%, couldn't picture the Merle he was describing. The Merle I knew walked up to a woman, commented on her rack, and asked if he could bend her over a barrel and show her the 50 states.

"Well, what did she say when you asked?"

Oh dear lord, what if she said no? Why did I always speak before thinking? Was it my imagination or were his ears turning red?

"Said yes," he admitted, pride in his voice. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Best year of my life."

His eyes got distant as he stared at the fire. It was clear by his body language things hadn't worked out the way he wanted, and because of that I should keep my mouth shut and not ask what happened.

"What happened?"

I really needed Daryl. He didn't seem surprised or upset by my question.

"Drugs," he answered simply. My shoulders deflated, of course. It was no secret he was a recovering addict. It was the reason Rick handcuffed him to a drain pipe in Atlanta. "She stuck with me through a lot..." he coughed a little to clear his throat, covering the choking sound. "More than I deserved, but I couldn't stop. Not even for her. So she left."

I set my rabbit down, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The longing in his voice was agonizing and I had the insane urge to hug him. I don't know how long ago this was, but he was still heartbroken.

"Did you love her?"

"Yeah," he answered without hesitation. "Been thinkin' 'bout her a lot lately."

"Oh?"

He sat back, arms draped over his knees. "I choose drugs over her cause it was safer." I frowned. Drugs were safer than love? He laughed without humor, "She said she loved me, said it every damn day, I didn't believe her."

"Why?"

"'Cause who would love trash?" I reeled back, hurt more by his words than he was, but I saw the truth in his eyes. "Didn't think I deserved her. Didn't think a life with her was possible."

"And now?"

Something in his eyes told me his perspective had changed, and I desperately wanted to know why.

"Until I saw ya with my brother I still didn't believe it." I rested my chin on my knees, waiting for him to go on. "I saw how ya looked at him, how ya bled for him, fought for him, would'va died for him," he gave me a knowing look. "Ya love him. When ya look at him ya don't see trailer trash, worthless redneck, or someone ya could use to survive. Ya just see him."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and I was, truly.

Melinda hadn't seen those things either, but he'd been blind to that fact. Sometimes it took seeing things through a different lens for everything to finally be in focus.

"I ain't." My eyes shifted to his face. "She deserved more than I could give her. Best thing I ever done was lettin' her leave me." He picked up a stick, breaking it into tiny pieces before tossing them one at a time into the fire. "I hope she found someone who could love her like she deserved."

Me too.

My eyes got heavier and heavier as I shifted into every conceivable position trying to stay awake. I was just about to slap myself in the face when Merle told me he would take first watch. I lay down against the log, curling into a ball in an effort to stay warm, using my arm as a pillow. Merle sat motionless on the other side of the fire, staring at the dancing flames. He looked sad and I knew he was thinking about Melinda.

"You deserve it," I said, his eyes snapped to mine across the campfire. "You deserve love, and I hope you find it again."

He didn't respond and again I wondered if I overstepped. My heart ached for him. Like Daryl he'd known little happiness in his life. Somehow it made it more heartbreaking that he'd known love for however brief a period and lost it. He looked a million miles away, drowning in memories and regret. His bottom lip shook slightly and he took a deep, steadying breath.

"I never thanked ya." I frowned, confused by his statement. He smiled sadly. "Ya took a chance on me back at the prison. Ya didn't have to, but ya did."

"Merle..."

"Nah, lemme get this out." I swallowed hard, waiting. "I know what ya did wasn't easy, and I know I didn't deserve it, but..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I hope...to be worth it...someday."

My bottom lip trembled as tears pooled in my eyes. It was easy to forget in light of his brash, overly sarcastic demeanor that Merle was as insecure as the rest of us. He didn't believe himself worthy of _anything_ much less a second chance, trust, friendship, or love. He was my brother, first by marriage and now by choice. He'd already proven himself worthy a thousand times over, and the fact he didn't know it gutted me. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he cut me off.

"G'night Firecracker."

I sighed, looking at him as he angled his body away from me, eyes intently focused on the woods. Clearly the conversation was over, for now, and I would respect that. He might not understand his worth, but I would help him see it, someday.

"Goodnight Captain Hook."

* * *

 **I love writing Alex and Merle's interactions. They play so well off each other it's not only fun, but I feel like really anything is possible. What do you guys think of the in-laws?**

 **We are on a collision course with Terminus. Duh-Duh-Duh! :)**


	44. Spilled This Blood For You

**Spilled This Blood For You**

"Yur so fuckin' dumb ya could throw yurself on the goddman ground and miss!"

I rounded on him, pointing a finger in his face. "Speak English you backwoods hillbilly!"

"Ya don't know he's there!" I pursed my lips, walking to the sign prominently displayed next to the railroad tracks, detouring slightly so I could use the toe of my boot to knock over his boombox. "Hey!"

He righted the boombox, taking extra care to wipe the dust off the front and I rolled my eyes. The two of us had an unspoken rule after finding the motherload in the trunk of a car at the beginning of this road trip from hell: If there was a car, we checked the trunk.

Unfortunately for me there were no claymores in yesterday's trunk. Whoever owned the vehicle believed the key to surviving the apocalypse was a boombox, a handful of CD's, a few extra batteries, and Flamin' Hot Chili Lime Cheetos. The only thing I didn't take exception to were the Cheetos. Even slightly stale they were the best damn thing I'd eaten in a long time. I tried to ignore the guilt I felt for cheating on my ABCs and 123s. Surely, they would understand.

While I dove headfirst into the Cheetos, discarding everything else as worthless, Merle held the boombox like it was a precious piece of art, or a naked woman. My mouth hit the ground when he gathered up the CD's and extra batteries, cramming them in the pack with our landmines. It had zero strategic or survival value, but that hadn't stopped him from taking it.

Well, I suppose if you counted driving me insane as strategic (which my asshole brother-in-law just might) then it had value. If I had to listen to Brooks & Dunn one more time I was going to lose my marbles. What the hell did _Boot Scootin' Boogie_ even mean?

The only thing more shocking than the batteries that never seemed to die was the fact Merle was a decent singer. Last night after we finished dinner, which consisted of Cheetos dust, he fired up the boombox while I tried to remember all the reasons killing him was a bad idea. I was two seconds away from smashing the thing to dust when I heard his deep, gravelly voice quietly crooning the lyric to Believe by Brooks & Dunn. It was shockingly soulful and undeniably beautiful, but I refused to change my assessment on the noise maker destined to kill us both. He may sing like an angel, but he sure as hell wasn't one.

But I was digressing. The heart of our current issue wasn't his angelic voice or his stupid boombox. It was whether or not to continue on our current next to a gigantic sign I slammed my hand against it, listening to the wood rattling back-and-forth, raising my eyebrows in challenge.

"Do you think there's a cold chance in hell he missed not _one_ ," I held up one finger, "Not _two_ ," I raised a second finger, "But _three_ of these?"

Raising the third finger was unnecessary, but I was done with this argument. I pointed at the sign, daring him to disagree with me.

 _ **Sanctuary**_

 _ **For All**_

 _ **Community**_

 _ **For All**_

 _ **Those Who Arrive**_

 _ **Survive**_

"That don't mean he's there."

"No, it doesn't, but the two we saw yesterday with _'Glenn go to Terminus, Maggie, Sasha, Bob'_ probably sealed the deal."

"It's a trap!"

I scoffed, "Of course it's a trap you moron." Did he really think I didn't know that? "We've been walking East for four fucking days, and all we've seen are signs just like this one. There is _no way_ he wouldn't have seen them too, and there's _no way_ he wouldn't go!"

It'd been a long, exhausting, dangerous four days following the railroad tracks to the supposed sanctuary called Terminus. According to Merle we were headed towards Macon. Also according to Merle, who miraculously turned into Rain Man when it came to navigation, it was home to an old railroad termination yard used for maintenance. Hence the name, Terminus, which was so stupid it pained me to say it outloud.

Four days.

Four, _long_ _days_ with nothing but each other for company while trying to survive on barely enough rations for one person much less one person and a redneck. That didn't even account for having to avoid the "un-neighborly types", and slaughtering droves of walkers. Humans can only withstand so much stress until they crack. Merle and I passed that point a day and a half ago. If we didn't find the others, and soon, someone was dying, probably Merle, and then Daryl would be mad.

The main point of contention between us ever since we saw the first Terminus sign was whether or not to go. I was convinced Daryl was there, or at the very least passed by, and either option meant clues to his current whereabouts. I wasn't passing that opportunity up no matter the risk.

Merle remained adamant we were walking into a setup. It wasn't that I disagreed with his point. I just didn't care. Even if Daryl spontaneously went blind and missed every sign the others could still be there, and I refused to not run this lead to ground. The thought of never seeing anyone from our group again was simply unacceptable. I was going to find them, all of them, even if it meant dragging my stubborn, one-handed, pain in the ass brother-in-law kicking and screaming the entire way.

"Son of a bitch," he cussed, kicking a rock with a grumpy huff before continuing down the tracks. Like every other argument we had on the subject we got nowhere, but in lieu of anywhere else to go we continued to Terminus. "Ya even got a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan."

"Well…"

"I'm going to ask really nice if he's there."

He grumbled under his breath something about me getting him killed. "And if by some miracle that don't work?"

"I'm gonna blow shit up," I grinned, giving his backpack a tiny pat.

"Fuckin' hell." He ran a hand over his nearly bald head, trying to subdue his rising temper. That was best. We were way too close to Terminus to keep screaming . "Please tell me we ain't gonna walk in the front door."

"You're adorable."

I nudged him with an elbow, knocking him off the tracks and he rolled his eyes, but my answer seemed to appease him. The sound of crunching gravel caught my ears and I grabbed his shirt, pulling him to a stop, listening intently.

"Did you hear that?"

Another crunch and we both went for our weapons, scrambling off the railroad tracks where we were easy targets. We hide in the woods, waiting and listening as the sound continued to get louder. Someone was walking towards us, their boots stepping on the gravel packed tightly between the wooden tracks. The closer they got the more distinctive their gait became as they half walked, half shuffled, even kicking rocks every so often that pinged against the metal tracks. It was clear they were bored, and completely unconcerned with being jumped.

Rookie mistake.

A man in his late 20's walked into view, and I told myself to wait for the right moment, but my body vibrated with anticipation. He looked well fed, his clothes not hanging off his body like the two of us, and he was clean. Far too clean to be living on the road. By contrast, I could rub my arm for a solid five minutes and accomplish nothing, but redistributing grime. Water was too precious a resource to waste on personal hygiene, and it showed. The closest we came to bathing was a brief rain shower two days ago. We both stood in the downpour, scrubbing at our face and arms vigorously, but it did little to help.

Truthfully, I was slightly envious of Merle though I'd never admit it. The dirtier he got the more lethal he appeared, like dirt somehow made him more dangerous. The dirtier I got the more I smelled, and that was it. I stopped taking my hair down yesterday after I removed the hair tie only to have my hair not move an inch.

"He's gotta be from Terminus," Merle commented quietly, watching the man draw closer.

I nodded in agreement. The chances of there being another fake sanctuary around here were slim. I moved left and right, trying to see what he had slung over his right shoulder, but couldn't get a clear view of it. The moment he turned his back to us that changed, and my body locked up so suddenly it was jarring.

Beside me, Merle bowed his head, muttering, "Oh shit."

Once he turned I had an unobstructed view of what was on his shoulder. That was all it took for me to snap. All the rage, anger, and grief I'd bottled up since the prison fell rushed to the surface faster than magma erupting from a volcano, and was no less destructive. I was sprinting at him before Merle could finish his curse, much less stop me.

He had a crossbow. Daryl's crossbow.

The incompetent ass-clown didn't hear me until I was almost on top of him, and that made me furious. He turned wildly, so stunned by the red haired blur coming at him he didn't even have a chance to pull the crossbow off his shoulder. I could probably stop now and let him pass out from fright, but he wasn't that lucky. He was holding my husband's crossbow, and because of that he was going to bleed.

I closed the distance in the blink of an eye. Our body's mere inches apart when I leapt in the air, driving my body forward. His mouth fell open in shock, eyes bulging as I brought my knee up at the peak of my jump, slamming it into the side of his face. I landed slightly behind him, watching his eyes roll into the back of his head, arms going limp at his sides. I moved a half step to the right to avoid his body as he fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding. I bent down, collecting Daryl's prized weapon and inspecting it for damage. He was fortunate it was in perfect working order or that knee to the head would feel like a Swedish massage. Daryl wasn't as nice as me when it came to touching his shit.

"Yur one scary motherfucker," Merle said matter-of-factly, inspecting the damage. One side of his face was already swelling and blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Damn straight," I agreed, "Help me get him up."

Merle grabbed his arms while I grabbed his legs as we carried him to a nearby tree so we could restrain him. Well, carried was a bit of a stretch. Merle carried him. I kinda, sorta, drug him and dropped him repeatedly.

"Put yur back into it," he snarled when one leg slipped out of my hand. The unbalanced load caused his hold to falter and the man we held between us twisting like a top, falling flat on his face. Oops.

"I'm having déjà vu." Somehow I managed to swallow the _"fuck you"_ on the tip of my tongue. "This guy needs to lay off the Ding Dongs."

Together we propped him up against a tree, using rope to restrain his upper body. Merle thought that was good enough, but I proceeded to tie his hands and feet just because I could. We relieved him of his weapons, a handgun and two knives. I had the gun tucked in the waistband of my jeans while Merle had both knives and was already talking about upgrading his stub. Lord help us all. Merle raised his eyebrows when tugged and pulled on the rope in a few places. When I was sure even Harry Houdini wouldn't be able to get out I finally stepped back.

"Seems like overkill lil' sister."

"Asshole deserves it."

I adjusted the crossbow on my shoulder, my temper flaring, again. He was right of course, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Is this the _'askin' nicely'_ part of yur plan?" The air quotes were a nice touch.

"Clearly."

The man groaned, his head lolling to the side as he struggled back to consciousness. I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot impatiently, waiting for him to wake up. Thirty seconds later I was done waiting and slapped him across the face.

"Rise and shine."

Merle gave me a disapproving look I ignored. The butterflies in my stomach were swarming and I was either going to murder this kid or throw up, maybe both. I had to know where Daryl was, what happened, why this man had his weapon, the questions pilled up in my mind so quickly I gave myself a headache. He would never, and I do mean never, give up his crossbow if he had any other option so the implications of this man having it made he want to kill him and let him reanimate just so I could kill him again. I knew my husband. He would rather die than surrender.

"Why don't ya let me handle this?" Merle suggested and I waved my hand in agreement.

Knock yourself out buddy. Killing him before we found out what happened to Daryl helped no one, and I didn't trust myself. It was a sad state of affairs when Merle Dixon was the calm voice of reason in a situation.

"Ugh," the man moaned, eyes blinking open, unfocused. He attempted to move his arms, then his legs, then his body in general, and I watched the rising panic creep onto his face. "What? What happened?"

Merle took a step forward, squatting down in front of him, a sinister smile on his face. I'd seen the same look back at Woodbury.

"Afternoon."

The man startled into awareness, pushing back against the tree in an effort to put more distance between him and the one-handed hillbilly. Merle used his stubby knife to casually scratch his face, and I stifled a laugh when the man's face paled considerably.

"Who the hell are you?" His eyes bounced between the two of us, not sure who was the bigger threat.

"Nah, that ain't the question," Merle smiled, "Question is, who are ya?" Before the man could answer he added, "Better yet, we can skip that part cause I really don't give a shit. Yur from Terminus?"

He words said question, but his tone said statement. The man swallowed hard and answered even though it was unnecessary.

"Y-y-yeah."

Merle nodded thoughtfully, pointing his stub at me. I wouldn't have thought it possible before, but his face got even whiter when he looked at me.

"See that crossbow?" Now he looked like he might pass out, but he managed a nod despite his terror. "The man ya took that from, he at Terminus?"

I held my breath, my fingers curling around the straps of Daryl's crossbow.

"Yes," he panted, terrified.

"He alive?"

My body was so stiff a slight breeze could knock me over. The man was unable to hold my lethal gaze, curling into himself in fear. He should be scared. If his answer was no there wouldn't be enough left of him to bury.

"He…he…he." I growled, taking a step forward, but Merle's arm shot out, stopping me. "He was!" he screamed, trying to stay my hand and I froze.

"Was?"

Merle picked up on his use of the past tense, and now there wasn't one bomb about to explode, there were two. Thankfully for him he seemed to understand the ramifications of his statement, quickly amending his answer.

"He is," he corrected.

"Why ya say _was_ then?"

He licked his lips, "I've been on guard duty for a while. He was alive when I left, and as far as I know they had no plans to kill them today."

Meaning they had plans to kill them another time? I scowled at him and he flinched.

"Them?" The man looked confused and Merle sighed. "Ya said them. Who else is with him?"

"Uh, he came with a couple other people."

"What'd they look like?"

I bit my lip, anticipation likely to kill me if this didn't speed up.

"Uh, some crazy chic." We both glared at the non-answer. Not helpful. Who the hell wasn't crazy anymore? "She has dreadlocks, carries a samurai sword." My pulse skyrocketed, Deadpool. "And this kid, he uh, wears a hat, a Sherriff's hat I think." I swayed on my feet, Carl. "The other guy with him, I think he was the leader, has curly hair and a full beard. Dude's insane man." Rick.

"I gotta tell ya son," Merle said casually, "Ya fucked with the wrong family."

"W-w-what?"

Merle smiled and it reminded me of death.

"The man you took that from," he pointed at the crossbow, "The man ya got plans to kill. I'm his brother." He looked horrified, but Merle wasn't done yet. "And that's his wife."

"Oh my god," he mumbled. My eyes glanced down to his pants, and I scrunched up my nose when I noticed he pissed himself. Merle noticed too, standing up and taking a step back. "Please, you have to believe me. I didn't want to do it."

"Do what?" I hissed.

He sobbed, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I didn't have a choice." I was so fucking tired of people saying that. "It was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place people could start over, but then they came and…"

"They?"

"These men, they came and took it," he cried, head hung low. "They shoved us into train cars, raping and killing us. We were there for weeks, maybe longer." He shook his head like he was trying to shake the memory. "We managed to escape and take it back, but after that everything changed. No one believed there was any good left in the world. We decided we needed to toughen up."

My stomach clenched uncomfortably. Whatever was coming was going to be awful.

"So ya put up yur signs and kill anyone who shows up?" Merle shot me an _"I told you so".  
_

The man looked sickened, "No, not right away. We ask them if…if…"

"If what?" I prompted, taking a step forward.

"You're the butcher or you're the cattle," he mumbled, eyes distant.

I reeled back, "Oh my god."

"What?" Merle asked, his head twisted back-and forth between the two of us.

Disregarding his confusion I reached down, grabbing a handful of the man's hair, slamming his head into the tree.

"What happens if someone refuses?"

Tears streaked down his face. "We...kill them." His shoulders shook as he sobbed. "And we...eat them."

I gasped, releasing him like I'd been burned, walking a few steps away before putting my hands on my knees. I was going to puke. He hadn't been sitting around eating Ding Dong's. He'd been sitting around eating people. I coughed, eyes watering as acidic bile bubbled up my throat. I gagged, falling to my hands and knees as I puked up stale Chili Lime Cheetos. Merle put a hand on my shoulder, checking to see if I was alright and I held up a hand, asking for a moment. When I was sure I was done vomiting I got to my feet, wiping my mouth as Merle handed me a bottle of water.

"Thanks," I said, taking the bottle and quickly swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out. "We need to hurry."

He nodded, dragging his tongue across his teeth in disgust. "What we gonna do with him?"

I walked towards the man, untying his hands and feet, but leaving the rope around his upper body. Next I removed his boots, hurling them into the woods before walking away.

"Hey!" he yelled, "You can't leave me like this." We ignored him. I could hear him struggling against the rope. It wasn't that tight, if he worked hard enough he would get free, eventually. "I'll die if you leave me here!"

I stopped, turning to look at him. "You have more of a chance than anyone who came to Terminus."

It was the truth. Yes he was tied to a tree, but with enough willpower he could free himself. Yes, he had no shoes, but there were hundreds of dead walkers in either direction with shoes they didn't need anymore. A pair was bound to fit.

"If I'm not back by sundown they'll know something's wrong!" he pleaded, eyes frantic. "Someone will come looking!"

I gave him a smirk Daryl would be proud of. "By sundown I'll have burned that whole goddamn train station to the ground."

If it even took that long. They not only had my husband and my friends, but they were planning to eat them. I was going to wipe their "sanctuary" off the face of the Earth. I was going to take the lives of anyone and everyone who got in my way. Destruction was much easier than creation, and I was never more thankful for that fact than I was right now. It wasn't long after the man's sobs were no longer audible that Merle stopped, looking around thoughtfully.

"Time to get off the tracks," he stated, turning left and heading into the woods.

I followed without question, his internal compass far more precise than mine could ever hope to be. It didn't take long for us to reach the fence that lined the train yard. We squatted down in the brush, observing the compound. In the windows of a huge, red brick building there were white letters spelling out T – E – R – M – I – N – U – S. I saw a few people milling about inside the compound, and a handful of guards outfitted with semi-automatic weapons stationed on top of old rail cars and buildings.

"Bet my left nut they got a perimeter watch," Merle commented.

I agreed. This place was massive which was both a blessing and a curse. It would make protecting it difficult, if not, impossible which would make sneaking in much easier. The drawback was it also meant finding our people could take time.

"How about we find a couple and introduce ourselves?"

He glanced at me, a smirk on his face.

"Sounds like a good idea."

It took less than 10 minutes to find a pair of dick-wads who were on perimeter watch. I snuck up behind one, covering his mouth with my hand as I pressed the blade of my knife against his throat. Merle went for a less stealthy approach and cold-cocked the other, promptly yanking the M4 out of my guys hand.

"Howdy." The man squired in my grip and I pressed the blade harder against the sensitive flesh of his throat, a trickle of blood trailing down his neck. He stilled instantly. "I wouldn't test her if I were you son. She ain't one to trifle with. We understand each other?"

He nodded and I removed my hand from his mouth, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing him to the ground. He landed on his back and before he could recover I stepped on his neck, pointing my PPQ at his head.

"We're gonna ask ya some questions," Merle continued like they were having a friendly chat. "As long as ya tell us the truth we won't have no problem. Sound good?"

A strangled gasp was his only reply. I eased the pressure on his throat and he coughed before saying, "Yeah."

"Alright." Merle sounded downright giddy. This guy should be very, very afraid. "Now…"

"Albert."

"Albert, how many ya got watching the fence?"

"Ten."

"How often ya change guards?"

"Every four hours."

"How long ya been on duty?"

"Just started."

"See this ain't hard." Albert visibly relaxed. Well as much as he could with me crushing his windpipe. "Firecracker?"

"Four people arrived today. Two men, a woman and a child." His eyes went wide confirming he knew exactly who I referring to. "Are they still alive?"

Sweat beaded on his forehead and I pushed down on his throat when he hesitated. "Yes, they're alive," he choked out.

"Where are they being held?" He hesitated, shocked we knew so much about the fantasy that was Terminus. I didn't have time for this shit. "Where?"

"Other side." He pointed a trembling finger across the compound. "Rail car marked A."

"How many people do you have?"

"I don't know."

"Try again," I hissed, pressing the muzzle of my PPQ to his forehead.

"Thirty, maybe more, please," he begged.

My eyes flicked to Merle. Thirty was a lot. "Are they all armed?"

"Most are," he tried to swallow around my boot, "Some just have knives or melee weapons."

I removed my boot from his throat, stepping back. "Stand up."

He sagged in relief, scrambling to his feet as Merle casually walked the fence, pretending to take a good, long look inside. The man brushed off his clothes, getting ready to plead for his life, but before he could open his mouth Merle struck the base of his skull with the butt of his weapon. He dropped like a rock.

"I don't think askin' nicely is gonna carry much weight with these folks," Merle said dryly.

No shit.

I sank down to one knee, rolling the unconscious man over and pulling on the Velcro straps of his tactical vest before sliding it over his head. Merle already had the other man's vest on and was adjusting the straps. I put mine on, retrieving the throat microphone system he was wearing as well. His counterpart also had one so Merle and I would be able to stay in contact once we separated. The radio absorbed vibrations directly from the wearer's throat by way of dual sensors placed on your neck. An earpiece and push-to-talk button that clipped to the front of the tactical vest completed the unit. These mic systems were common in the military. In fact, all this gear was military grade which made me grind my teeth together in anger. They'd probably stolen it from Soldiers right before eating them. I kicked the unconscious man in the gut to relieve my mounting frustration, gesturing to Merle.

"Gimme a claymore." He shrugged off his pack, carefully handing me a mine, the firing wire and a detonator that I carefully placed it in my pack. "I'll move south along the fence line and take out any guards on top of the buildings. You stay here and provide cover until I'm out of sight then make your way in the opposite direction and set up the party favors." He nodded. "These mics have a decent range so once I have our people I'll let you know, and we'll rendezvous on the west side by the rail car."

"We ain't gonna be able to keep it quiet for long."

I nodded. "We need a distraction. Something to draw them away from the rail cars." I bit my lip as I thought, mulling over our limited options. My eyes lit up when I spotted his stupid boombox. I picked it up, shoving it into his chest with a shit-eating grin. "This should do the trick."

"The fuck I'm supposed to do with this?"

I rolled my eyes. He may be Rain Man when it came to navigation, but he was just plain old Merle when it came to planning.

"You don't think Boot Scootin' Boogie will get their attention?" He looked horrified at the prospect of sacrificing his beloved boombox. "It's the stupid boombox or us Captain Hook. You got a better idea?" When he just huffed out an irritated sigh I grinned. "When I tell you to crank the tunes and wait for them to enter the kill zone then make it rain."

He stared at me.

"Blow the claymores man," I sighed.

He smiled so wide it was almost blinding. "B'tween the music and the bombs every walker in the state is gonna pour through these fences." I grinned back at him. "Yur a sadistic lil' thing, ain't ya?"

"Go to channel four," I stated, changing the channel on my radio. He sent me a thumbs up and I pressed the black button on my tactical vest, speaking normally. "Firecracker to Captain Hook, radio check, over."

Merle's gravelly voice sounded in my left ear. "Captain Hook to Firecracker, good copy."

I gave him a firm nod, jogging off, but his voice rattled in my ear. "Ya know we're probably gonna die, right?"

"We aren't dying today," I said firmly, screwing a sound suppressor onto my pilfered M4. "They are."

I took out two guards about 200 yards away perched on top of a building before following the fence line as close to the rail car as I dared before slipping through a hole in the fence. Quietly and quickly I made my way around the container, spotting a guard with his back to me 10 feet away. I raised my M4, squeezing the trigger, the sound of the shot almost non-existent. The man's head exploded, his body falling to the ground.

"Two guards moving to you on your left. Both got semi-automatic rifles," Merle voice sounded in my ear. I flattened my back against the shipping container, trying to control my breathing. "Ten feet. Five feet." I took a deep breath as Merle counted down. "Should see 'em on your left…now."

I fired two shots in rapid succession, the bullets striking both men in the back of the head. They dropped without a sound, but I scanned the immediate vicinity just to be sure. My throat went dry when I spotted the rail car marked with a big A, but it was the eight men lying bound and gagged on the ground next to it that nearly made my knees buckle. I didn't know four of them, but the sight of Daryl, Rick, Glenn and Bob made the rage simmering just under the surface boil over.

I was going to kill them all, slowly.

I pressed the button on my vest. "I see Daryl, Rick, Glenn and Bob. They're bound and gagged. They're moving them. I'm going to follow. Set up the party favors. We're out of time."

"Copy that," Merle responded then went silent.

They'd separated them from the rest of their captives and that was bad. Rick barely looked conscious as they drug him off, blood smeared across the side of his face, but Glenn and Daryl fought them every step of the way. They too knew they were being taken to their deaths. When they disappeared into a building I took stock of my surroundings.

"Party favor one set," Merle confirmed.

I heard loud voices coming from a building adjacent to where they were holding our people, and dashed down an alley, peeking through a dirty window to find a group of men lounging in what appeared to be an armory. I smiled. This would do nicely.

These guys weren't Soldiers. They were civilians playing Soldier. As soon as the music started they would exit the building, and run down the road directly in front of me. I'd bet every can of ABCs and 123s left in the world they would double back for more firepower once they saw the holes Merle was going to blow in their fence. It was the perfect spot for my one and only claymore.

"Party favor two set," Merle said.

I set up my explosive device, pointing the _'Front Towards Enemy'_ down the street. I figured they would be in too much of a hurry to notice it, but just in case I took the time to cover it with some discarded cardboard before inserting the priming adapter into the detonation well. I unrolled the firing wire, walking backwards until I rounded a brick building next to where they were holding the guys. I attached the detonator before carefully setting it down.

"Party favor set," I said, pressing the sensors at my throat. "Hit the music."

I snuck back to where the guys were, pausing outside the door. There were no guards outside, and I scoffed at their arrogance. Obviously they didn't believe anyone capable of raining on their cannibalistic parade.

"Last party favor set. Ready for it to rain."

I rolled my eyes. Rednecks.

I heard someone talking inside and strained to make out his words. He was asking something about a bag buried in the woods, threatening someone and then it was quiet. Whoever was answering, probably Rick, was talking too soft for me to hear.

And then, all off a sudden, the stark quietness was replaced by music blaring across the compound, and holy-fuck-balls was it loud. Did he have speakers stashed in his backpack I didn't know about? Christ, my eardrums might never recover.

 _ **Na na na, come on**_

 _ **Na na na, come on**_

 _ **Na na na, na na come on**_

 _ **Na na na, come on, come on**_

 _ **Come on, na na-na na come on**_

 _ **Na na na, come on**_

 _ **Na na na, na na, come on**_

 _ **Na na na, come on, come on**_

 _ **Come on, na na na na**_

I couldn't help it, despite the seriousness of our situation, I laughed. Merle Dixon was my hero. This was _soooo_ much better than Brooks & Dunn.

Inside the room the Terminus men were frantic as they tried to figure out what was happening. Walkers moaning and snarling was one thing. _Rihanna's S &M_ pumping through your compound was another. I heard someone scream from inside to, "finish up", and then a door slammed closed.

 _ **Feels so good being bad**_

 _ **There's no way I'm turning back**_

 _ **Now the pain is for pleasure**_

 _ **'Cause nothing can measure**_

I pushed against the door, cracking it open slightly to get a lay of the land. Four of the men were already dead, their limp bodies hanging over some kind of trough, throats slashed. My shoulders relaxed marginally when I confirmed none were our people.

 _ **Love is great, love is fine**_

 _ **Out the box, out of line**_

 _ **The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more**_

There were only two Terminus men inside. One with two wicked looking machetes and the other with only a baseball bat. The big guy stepped up behind Glenn, rolling his shoulders and getting into a baseball stance. I was out of time.

"Got eyes on the package. Moving to intercept," I told Merle, putting the M4 strap over my head and situating the rifle across my back.

I retrieved my PPQ and reached into my waistband for Albert's handgun, positioning myself directly in front of the metal door. This was it. If I was fast and accurate, they lived. If I wasn't, they died. No pressure.

 _ **'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it**_

 _ **Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it**_

 _ **Sticks and stones may break my bones**_

 _ **But chains and whips excite me**_

I lifted my foot and kicked the door with the sole of my boot. It crashed against the wall, the man with the baseball bat freezing in mid-swing. I exploded through the opening, giving them no time to react, my eyes quickly picking up both targets. I squeezed both triggers simultaneously; the four men positioned in front of the trough flinching instinctively at the sound as the bullets sailed over their heads.

 _ **'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it**_

 _ **Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it**_

 _ **Sticks and stones may break my bones,**_

 _ **But chains and whips excite me**_

The machetes and bat clattered to the ground. The two bodies falling backwards like trees being chopped down in the forest.

"Packages secured."

 _ **Na na na come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it**_

Four sets of eyes stared at me, and I waved at them enthusiastically despite the guns in my hands.

"Hey guys, miss me?"

Glenn and Bob sagged to the ground, disappearing from view behind the trough. Rick grinned or at least it looked like a grin. It was hard to tell with a gag shoved in his mouth. Daryl blinked rapidly like his eyes couldn't be trusted, but he didn't move an inch. I ran towards them. We needed to move.

 _ **Love is great, love is fine**_

 _ **Out the box, out of line**_

 _ **The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more**_

I quickly cut away the zip ties restraining them, and Rick almost strangled me in a hug.

"Missed you too buddy," I wheezed, patting him on the back.

He released me with a snort, stepping away. Daryl stood immobile a few feet from me, face blank, stance weary, and my lips trembled.

 _ **'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it**_

 _ **Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it**_

 _ **Sticks and stones may break my bones**_

 _ **But chains and whips excite me**_

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, and another until he was directly in front of me. He reached for me, his hand cupping my cheek and I leaned into his touch. His hand shook as he reached for me with his other hand, now holding my face in his hands.

"Red?" he whispered.

His eyes roamed my body, fingers caressing my face and neck as he tried to reassure himself I wasn't a figment of his imagination. That I was there. That I was alive.

"Yeah," I blubbered.

 _ **Na na na come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it**_

In a flash I was in his arms. I sank into him, blinking back tears as he squeezed so hard it was difficult to breath. I didn't care. Breathing was overrated. He smelled like sweat, the woods, and smoke. He smelled like home.

"How?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"You can't get rid of me that easy Katniss."

A choked laugh came from him as he pulled away only to press his lips to mine, his tongue gliding across my lower lip. Someone moaned, maybe him, probably me. I tilted my head giving him better access, my hands curling in his leather vest. There was a very small portion of my brain that realized this was neither the time nor the place to make out, but I had years of practice ignoring that part of my brain. A primal growl rumbled in his chest appreciatively when my tongue tangled with his, and his fingers drifted down my neck to my back then lower and lower until…

"Uh...guys," Glenn stuttered uncomfortably.

We broke apart, the look in his eyes making my stomach flip-flop. The meaning was clear, rain check. I agreed wholeheartedly. When we turned to faced the group we found Bob with his back turned, Glenn beat red with embarrassment, and Rick with his hands on his hips sporting his infamous "cop look".

"Our bad," I offered lamely.

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

"Did..did that…just say...S&M?" Bob looked aghast.

I snorted, "What else do you expect with Merle behind the wheel."

I handed Rick and Daryl a handgun, Glenn the M4 which left Bob with the machete and baseball bat.

"Merle?" Daryl asked, eyes hopeful.

I nodded at him. "Been with Captain Hook since the prison."

 _ **Oh I love the feeling you bring to me**_

 _ **Oh, you turn me on**_

 _ **It's exactly what I've been yearning for**_

 _ **Give it to me strong**_

 _ **And meet me in my boudoir**_

 _ **Make my body say ah, ah, ah**_

 _ **I like it, like it**_

I led them to the door, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"What? Right back? Where are you going?" Rick's rapid fire questions left no time to answer, not that I planned on it, and he cursed under his breath.

"Moving to the party favor. Thirty seconds," I said into the mic.

"Oh shit," Bob mumbled.

"Red."

I turned to Daryl, squeezing his hand briefly. "Trust me."

His nostrils flared, but he gave me a curt nod. I winked at him, trying to put him at ease, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

 _ **'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it**_

 _ **Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it**_

 _ **Sticks and stones may break my bones**_

 _ **But chains and whips excite me**_

I ran for the adjacent building, hunkering down and picking up the detonator. Rick's eyes bulged and he pushed Glenn and Bob further into the building, telling them to take cover. If they liked this they were gonna love the encore.

 _ **'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it**_

 _ **Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it**_

 _ **Sticks and stones may break my bones**_

 _ **But chains and whips excite me**_

"Get the machine guns!" someone yelled, running down the street.

A group of men were following him, heading back to the buildings that housed the majority of their weapons. Just like I thought, in their haste to react they didn't bring the weapons they needed. My fingers wrapped around the detonator, taking a deep breath, waiting as they ran deeper into the kill zone.

I pressed the button on my vest, "Makin' it rain."

When the last one crossed the invisible threshold I squeezed the trigger on the detonator, curling into a ball and covering my head with my arms. The concussion of the antipersonnel mine was jarring, 700 steel balls exploding outward simultaneously creating a wall of deadly shrapnel that fanned out in a 60 degree arc tearing through men and buildings alike.

 _ **Na na na come on, come on, come on,**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it, come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it come on, come on, come on**_

 _ **I like it, like it**_

When the dust settled I stood up, running through the white cloud of smoke and dust. I kept my PPQ pointed at the bodies, making sure there were no survivors or stranglers. There weren't. Ignoring the gore and body parts scattered across the ground I gathered up two rifles, slinging them over my shoulder.

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

 _ **S, S, S and M, M, M**_

I looked back at the guys, all of them wearing expressions that varied only by degrees. Rick and Daryl looked the least surprised, but given they knew me best that wasn't surprising. Glenn looked mildly concerned which spoke volumes about our time together. Bob stood there shell-shocked, ready to faint. They slowly stepped out of the door, and away from the safety the building offered.

"Here we go Firecracker."

Merle's voice crackled in my earpiece, and my eyes widened in horror. I started towards them, holding up a single hand, my warning a second too late.

"Get…"

 **BOOM!**

The blast rocked the ground and I staggered to the side, disoriented by the concussion and dust cloud that followed. Holy shitballs! It felt like he set that thing off right behind me, the heat from the explosion licking the exposed skin on my back. My vision swam with disorientation, panic making my heart beat erratically. I had to find cover before that asshole killed me, but instead of running my legs wobbled, and I kinda just fell over.

 **BOOM!**

A hand grabbed my arm, hauling me behind a shipping container just as a ball of fire burst into the sky to our left. It was close enough this time I swear the fire singed the hair on my arms. Daryl shoved me to the ground, shielding my body with his. I pulled him closer, trying to put as much distance between us and the fireball consuming the area, waiting for the last claymore detonation.

 **BOOM!**

I stayed frozen beneath Daryl, recounting the explosions in my stunned mind. I shook my head, trying to shake the ringing in my ears.

"Holy shit Merle," I mumbled.

"That all of 'em?" he asked, hands cradling the back of my head as he peered down at me.

"Yeah…"

I was cut off when another blast tore through Terminus. This one louder and more violent than all four combined. The ground felt like it was being ripped apart. Buildings rattled dangerously, threatening to topple from the destructive force of the blast. I curled into a ball under Daryl, pulling him tighter to me, listening to windows shatter and shrapnel impale shipping containers only inches above us. The explosion felt like it went on for minutes, but it most have only been seconds. After a few moments passed and nothing else blew up Daryl relaxed slightly, raising an eyebrows at me in question.

"Don't look at me like that," I huffed, sitting up with a wince, "That was no claymore."

Rick, Glenn and Bob skidded to a stop next to us, eyes wide as they waited for an explanation I didn't have. I stood up with Daryl's assistance, wiping away dust from my jeans with as much dignity as I could muster considering I almost got us all blown up. I was used to this kind of thing. They weren't.

"In hindsight maybe giving Merle military grade explosives wasn't the best idea."

For a beat, nothing, and then Rick laughed, "God I missed you."

"Hold onto that feeling," I pleaded. It was important he remember that in the days that followed.

"Still alive lil' sister?"

I scowled, shooting the finger in the general direction of the woods. "Fuck you Captain Hook."

"Get movin'. We got lots of company headed our way."

"Roger that, rendezvous by the rail car." I nodded at the building where they'd almost been slaughtered. "Let's cut through there. It's safer than being out in the open. We have to find the others, and get out of here."

I handed out the semi-automatic weapons I collected while Rick led us through the slaughter house, and down a hall that led into what appeared to be a preparation room. Hacked up body parts hung from hooks attached to chains suspended from the ceiling. There were tables lined with knives and cutting boards that had flesh so mangled I couldn't identify what part of the human body it came from. There were several smoking pits on one side of the room and I felt my queasy stomach rear its ugly head.

"Easy Red," Daryl cooed, sliding his hand into mine.

I knew they were cannibals, but knowing and seeing were two different things. And the smell, oh god, it was awful.

"You cross any of these people, you kill them," Rick instructed needlessly. I was already doing that. "Don't hesitate."

"They ain't people," Daryl spit, face murderous as he looked around the room. We huddled next to a door with a small window, watching walkers pound on a nearby shipping container.

"If we run we can get by them," Rick suggested, "They're distracted."

"We gotta let those people out," Glenn insisted.

"What people?" I asked.

Rick swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up-and-down. "We aren't the only ones locked up here."

"I'm with Glenn."

I took a step closer to him just to emphasize the point thereby dragging Daryl with me by virtue of our joined hands. There was _no way_ I would leave someone to this fate if I could prevent it. Rick looked like he wanted to argue, but Glenn stopped him.

"It's still who we are." He sounded like Hershel. "It's gotta be."

"You got any bombs left?" he asked me, wishful thinking and all.

"I left them in my other purse." Daryl rolled his eyes next to me and I glanced at him, "I heard that."

Rick sighed, and I gave him a pointed look, willing him to remember how glad he was to see me. We weren't even out of Terminus yet for fuck's sake, and already he was sighing. You'd think four claymores and one big ass, unexplained explosion would be enough, but you couldn't please everyone.

"Tuck in your skirt ladies," I joked, swinging the door open and charging forward.

I fired at the small congregation of walkers surrounding the container, Daryl opening fire beside me as Bob, Rick and Glenn took out the rest. Once they were dead Glenn opened the shipping container, stepping back wildly to avoid being run over by Bigfoot. He came out screaming nonsense at the top of his lungs, arms waving wildly. The last thing I expected to come out of the container was Sasquatch so I just stood there like a moron while he slammed into me, sending us both crashing to the ground.

"We're the same! We're the same!"

Rick and Daryl wrestled the man off me, pushing him to the side and raising their weapons when he lunged forward. Glenn helped me up, and I rubbed the back of my head.

"We're the same!" He took a step forward.

"Back off," Rick warned.

He laughed like a mad man, and I wondered how long he'd been locked in that shipping container. Long enough to lose his damn mind that was for sure. A walker grabbed him, taking him down, tearing out pieces of his shoulder and throat with her razor sharp teeth. He laughed, unconcerned he was missing his trachea still mumbling nonsense as he bled out.

"Let's go," Rick urged, ready to take off, but Glenn picked up a baseball bat, slamming it into the walker's head then Big Foot's.

"Glenn!" I hissed, backing up to avoid being seen when a group of walkers rounded the corner. Daryl snagged the back of his shirt, pushing him against the shipping container and out of sight.

"We gotta double back that way," Bob suggested, the walkers shuffling down the street blocking the most direct route to the rail cars.

"We go back we won't know where we are," Rick said.

"We don't really have a choice do we?" Daryl added.

"I'm almost out of ammo."

I glanced at Bob and he shrugged.

"Me too," Glenn stated.

Well, fuck guys, would it kill you to conserve ammunition?

The sound of gunfire erupted and I peeked around the shipping container, watching walkers fall one by one. Rick glanced at me, raising only one eyebrow in that creepy way of his, and I nodded, following his train of thought. I could make that work.

"Wait here," Rick stated, bolting towards the sound of gunfire with me right behind him.

"Rick!" Daryl shouted, "Alex! Goddmanit."

Oh, he was pissed. Rick was gonna be in trouble when we got back.

We kept low, running towards what was left of a burned out car as Terminus personnel walked forward, firing with wild abandon at walkers, cutting them down. We stayed hidden until all but one passed, Rick motioning to the man. I nodded, moving forward, but before I could ambush him a walker came out of nowhere. We scrambled to put some distance between us and the dead, trying to defend ourselves in the extremely close quarters, but Daryl shoved a knife through its skull, sinking into a crouch next to us.

"Thanks honey," I smiled.

"Yur welcome dear."

I smirked. Playful Daryl was my favorite.

The last man passed us, firing at the walkers around the corner and I holstered my PPQ. I wasn't wasting precious bullets on a man who looked like his most deadly skill set was Sudoku.

"Time to go to work," I mumbled to the men beside me.

I sprang to my feet, rushing the man and catching him completely off-guard. I kicked the assault rifle out of his hand, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him forward at the same time I brought my knee up, ramming it into his gut. He let out an _"ompf"_ , unable to breathe. He bent forward at the waist trying to suck in oxygen, but that just made it easier for me to swing my leg around his neck like I was mounting a horse. Once I was on top of him I twisted my body around, sending us both to the ground. I rolled onto my back with his neck trapped between my thighs, squeezing. He grunted and bucked, legs thrashing as he tried to free himself. I lifted my lower back off the ground, exerting tremendous pressure on his neck, his hands clawing at my thighs in panic. He gurgled, unable to suck in air due to my suffocating hold.

This was fun and all, but I had places to be so it was time for him to die. In one swift movement I twisted my left hip towards the ground with sickening force, feeling the bone in his neck snap against my inner thigh with a loud _"pop"_. I released the dead man, rolling to my side and standing just in time to see Rick using the man's rifle to slaughter the Terminus people still walking leisurely down the road.

"I love ya so damn much," Daryl admitted, jogging to my side.

"I bet you say that to all the girls who can kill men with their thighs."

Heat built in his blue eyes and my tuna taco swooned dramatically. "Nah, just ya Red."

"Let's go!" Rick hissed, running back to the shipping container. He checked his stolen rifle, flicking off the safety before turning to Bob. "We don't have to double back."

Bob looked a little peaked, eyeing me warily. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"YouTube."

Glenn smirked while Daryl snorted in amusement.

We fought our way to A car, the number of walkers multiplying exponentially every second. The gigantic holes in the fence caused by Merle's claymores allowing them in unimpeded. Smoke filled the air as buildings caught fire, the flames dancing from one building to the next with no end in sight. It wouldn't be long until the entire station was consumed. I nodded in satisfaction. I told that piece of shit I was gonna burn this place to the ground.

We formed a wall at A car, Daryl and I fighting side-by-side as Rick charged up the rickety steps, swinging the door open. I fired my PPQ, a knife in my other hand so I could slash at walkers if needed. I heard the others jumping out of the car, screaming that we needed to run. I didn't have time to see who was before a walker dove at me from the side. I dropped into a crouch, swinging my left foot out, taking the walker's feet out from under him. He fell backwards, hitting the ground with a wet smack. I jumped up firing two shots in rapid succession, clearing a path for Carl who was sprinting away. His eyes went wide when he saw me, a tiny smile on his boyish face and I threw him a wink, his father screaming in the background for him to run.

"Red, let's go!" Daryl shouted, slashing at a walker beside him.

I dispatched the walker closest to me and took off, following a gigantic guy with red hair who looked like a masculine version of Disney's Ariel. Daryl kicked a walker into a building and I slammed my knife into its head as he cut another's head clean off. The group ran a few feet ahead of us, a tight circle only disturbed when someone darted out to kill a walker. This was exactly how we cleared the prison, and it was working again to get us out of Terminus. That was, until the group slowed, everyone faltering when a group of walkers lumbered down the road right at us.

"Alex!" Rick yelled.

"Yep!" I responded, pushing people out of my way as I ran forward, holstering my gun, "Legolas!"

"Right behind ya!"

When I broke free of the group I threw both knives in my hands as fast as I could, drawing two more and repeating the action. When those four were down I charged the last two, sliding under the arms of one like I was sliding into home plate leaving him for Daryl. I jumped to my feet, darting quickly to the right, using the wall of a building to springboard myself over them and plunge my knife into their skull with brute force.

"Son of a bitch-tit," Ariel murmured, eyes so wide they were like two, white, gaping holes in his enormous head.

He stared at me, not the bodies at my feet, not the walkers still trailing us, not the raging fire that was Terminus, but me, and it made me uncomfortable. I turned to the side like it would somehow hide whatever it was he was searching for. A memory lingered just on the edge of my gasp, but when I tried to remember the details the image got fuzzier in my mind. I chanced another look at him while I collected my knives and found him still looking at me.

"Y'all better haul ass!" Merle yelled from the opposite side of the fence, throwing a tarp over to cover the barbed wire lining the top.

"Let's go!" Ariel ordered, finally breaking eye contact to help everyone out. "Up and over!"

I hung back with Daryl and Rick, fighting off the approaching herd to give the others time to escape. A group from Terminus skidding to a halt on a nearby roof, weapons raised, but Rick was faster. He fired at the three men, clipping one in the shoulder and forcing the rest to retreat.

"We gotta go!" Daryl yelled. I backed up towards the fence, making sure Rick was following. At the fence Daryl pushed me in front of him. "Go Red."

I nimbly jumped up and over the fence like I was back in the Army navigating an obstacle course, landing in a crouch on the other side, knife raised.

"Easy there Firecracker," Merle smirked, standing a few feet away. I blew the hair out of my face, standing up and hugging the absolute shit out of him. "Missed ya too."

"I take it back. You're the least sucky brother-in-law _ever_ ," I laughed, holding him at arm's length so I could make sure he was unharmed. "The song choice was superb."

"Felt more 'ppropriate than Brooks & Dunn."

"Sorry about your stupid jambox."

He shrugged, holding up the Brooks & Dunn CD. "Wasn't a total loss."

I nodded, "Nice work on the party favors."

"Oh, I had help." I frowned. Help? Before I could ask what the hell he meant Daryl stepped forward, looking at his brother in absolute awe. "Hey Darlina." He choked on a laugh as Merle took the initiative, doing that weird boy hug were you kinda hug, but mostly don't, and instead pound each other on the back. "Got somethin' for ya."

He handed Daryl his crossbow and his eyes got all misty. I sighed. Only Daryl would cry when reunited with his weapon.

"Thanks man," he told his brother.

"Don't thank me." Merle pointed his stub in my direction. "Thank yur old lady."

Daryl whirled around to face me, questions in his gaze, but I just shrugged. He married me. Kicking the shit out of someone who stole his crossbow was the least I could do.

"Merle, this was you?" Rick asked, waving a hand at the smoking remains of Terminus.

"Don't sound so shocked Officer Friendly." Rick smiled, walking forward and slapping him on the shoulder. Hopefully those two could finally bury the hatchet or the hand. "'Sides it was Firecrackers plan."

Rick chuckled, sending me a playful wink. "I have no doubt."

Daryl led the group back to the spot where they'd stashed their weapons, Rick digging up the bag, all playfulness gone from his face. He looked a little frantic and I bit my lip. He didn't look like a man simply retrieving weapons because it was stupid to leave them. Daryl took an unconscious step closer to me, adjusting his crossbow.

"What the hell we still here for?" Ariel asked, stomping forward like the colossal, hulking mass he was.

I eyed him, trying to estimate the amount of calories it took to keep _that_ engine running. And I thought Merle was a bottomless pit.

"Guns, some supplies," Rick answered, still digging. "We'll go along the fence. Use the rifles. Take the rest of them out."

Daryl glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and I shook my head. That was a waste of time, manpower and resources. Not to mention it put us all at risk unnecessarily, but Rick was looking a little crazy so I was going to keep my opinion to myself for the time being. No doubt someone would step up in my stead and take one for the team.

"What?" Bob shrieked. Thank you Bob.

"They don't get to live," Rick snarled, foam building at the corner of his mouth. Oh lord, here comes the democracy speech.

"Rick, we got out," Glenn explained, trying to stay calm. "It's over."

"It's not over until they're all dead."

Rick looked at him, holding his Python cannon a little too tight in his shaking hand. My eyes flicked to Deadpool and she shook her head, tucking Carl into her side.

"That place is on fire. Full of walkers." I agreed with Apocalypse Barbie.

"I ain't dickin' 'round with this crap," Ariel stated bluntly. "We just made it out."

"The fences are down," Maggie added, hoping to be the voice of reason that broke through. "They'll run or die."

Rick didn't look convinced or particularly stable and I took a small step forward. His eyes slide to mine and I pressed my lips together, swallowing with difficulty.

"I get it," I said softly, my eyes never leaving his. "I do. They had Daryl so believe me I understand." My voice wobbled slightly and I blew out an even breath, gathering myself. "Look at it." I pointed behind him. "That place, what it stood for, it's gone. We don't need to go back and kill the rest. The world will do it for us."

His shoulders sagged in defeat, but he nodded his head in agreement and I felt myself relax. I took his hand in mine, giving it a small squeeze.

"Ya gonna hide behind that tree forever?" Merle called out to…no one?

I let go of Rick, frowning at Merle in confusion. He smirked, pointing his stubby knife over my shoulder. I strangled gasp punched out of my lips when I saw who was hiding behind the tree.

"Carol?" Rick mumbled, his voice as stunned as I felt.

"Told ya I had help."

I couldn't move, but Daryl didn't hesitate, rushing over and hugging her. I heard Maggie laughing behind me and it snapped me out of my trance. I ran at her full speed, an arm previously wrapped around Daryl unfurling to allow me in as I crashed their hug. Carol sobbed when I collided with her, and I felt my own tears falling. She was here. She'd helped save them. I had so many questions, but they could wait. Daryl released her first, standing aside and allowing us a moment to girl cry.

"I missed you," I admitted.

She stroked my hair just like I remembered. Just like a mother would. "I missed you too Alex."

Reluctantly I released her as Daryl pulled me to his side and I sniffled. Rick shuffled over to her looking astonished, contrite and utterly ashamed all at the same time. She smiled sadly, opening her arms to him. He fell into her embrace, the duo sharing a few words I couldn't hear. They had some fences to mend, but they would get there, and breaking them all out of the Hell that was Terminus was a start.

"You have to come with me," Carol insisted, her voice urgent as she pulled on Rick's hand.

Daryl slipped his hand into mine, interlacing our fingers as Carol led us down an obscure back road. I wanted to know where we were going, what we were doing, but I was too worried what the answer might be to voice my question. Or maybe I was too worried what the answer _wouldn't_ _be_.

When we finally made it to the top of a hill I could see a small cabin in the distance. Sasha started running when the front door opened and Tyreese stepped out, but I never saw the hulking mountain that was Tyreese. I only saw what he was holding, and it made my legs give out. My knees hit the road, gravel digging into my skin, but I didn't care. Daryl's arm went around my waist to support me as he knelt next to me, his strangled breathing a testament to his own shock. I covered my mouth with my shaking hands, watching Rick and Carl race down the road.

"Nugget?"

* * *

 **I made the decision to do a small time jump and have Alex and Merle get to Terminus in this chapter. I tried writing a couple of chapters of them on the road, but it was them doing and seeing the same things we saw the other characters experience in the time between the prison and Terminus. I didn't think it added anything so I cut them out. Plus, I'll be honest, I wanted Alex and Daryl back together. LOL.**

 **What did you guys think? Did you have a favorite part?**


	45. Everybody Knows

**Everybody Knows**

"I know you."

I froze, the water bottle Daryl handed me halfway to my lips. The Dixon brother's turned in unison, their wide bodies and massive shoulders creating a human shield from the inquisitive eyes staring straight at me. Ignoring all three of them I turned my attention back to the water bottle.

"I don't think so," I dismissed, taking a sip.

The water was practically boiling in the hot temperatures, but it coated my parched throat and cracked lips blissfully. I wanted to keep drinking, to gulp down the entire bottle, maybe even splash some on my face, but couldn't. We were dangerously low on water, and without knowing how long until we found another place to fill up we needed to play it safe.

"Yeah, I do."

My eyes flicked to Ariel and I frowned. I didn't know him. I never forgot a face, never, and his wasn't ringing any bells so he had me confused with another ninja-like redhead. Even if I didn't have a memory like a steel trap a 6'2", 200 pound man with red hair and an out-of-control goatee would jog anyone's memory. I shrugged at him, turning away, intending to spend the brief break from walking in solitude.

"June 30, 2007." Ariel's deep, baritone voice stopped me dead in my tracks. "The Battle of Donkey Island." When I remained immobile and silent he added, " _It was you_."

Turning around to face him I saw Daryl giving me a questioning glance, but I shook off his concern, ignoring Merle's agitation as well. Their worry was unwarranted. Ariel wasn't a threat and he _was_ right, I did know him, in a manner of speaking.

The Battle of Donkey Island was a brief, but vicious fight between the U.S. military and insurgent forces on the outskirts of Ramadi, a central city in Iraq. I'd flown into the war torn country the previous night on orders to deliver bags full of money to various warlords in exchange for their bullshit promise to fight _with us_ instead of _against us_.

Cultivating relationships in the country was a delicate and dangerous balancing act. Every region was controlled by a different warlord who had opposing views than the one on his left and right. The one and only thing they all had in common was hatred, for each other, kept alive by deeply rooted blood-feuds dating back generations. Their despise for each other was so legendary in the event two factions met on the battlefield they were likely to stop fighting the _insurgents_ and start fighting _each other_. Hence the bags full of money. Hopefully it would provide enough motivation to keep their attention on killing our mutual enemy.

I wasn't meant to stay in Ramadi longer than a few hours, only long enough to get an intelligence report and jump on a different helicopter, but all that changed with one distress call. I was walking by a command TOC when I overhead the radio communication about a routine patrol under heavy fire on the outskirts of the city. The convoy was pinned down, trapped in a well-orchestrated ambush, and unable to move because, and I wasn't making this shit up, a camel swallowed their keys.

It wasn't my job or my problem, but when I heard the voices of the Army soldiers screaming over the radio, begging for help, I knew I couldn't listen to them die. So I borrowed (stole) a radio, put a gun to the back of a chopper pilots head, and politely asked (forced) him to fly me to the edge of Ramadi. The insurgents were so hyped up on the possibility of killing American Soldiers and posting the video on YouTube they never saw me coming. Once I had a visual on the enemy the rest was relatively easy. I called in a battery of air strikes, some dropping so close to our guys the camel probably shit out their keys in fright, but it got the job done. The rescue team had just enough time to pull them out of there.

The insurgents who weren't already dancing with 72 virgins were reluctant to admit defeat, instead calling in reinforcements that would drag the fighting into the early morning hours. I disobeyed a direct order to disengage, choosing instead to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with U.S. forces, and finish the battle. Al-Qaeda fighters had us in terms of numbers, but our training and coordination was unmatched. The blistering desert sun was just cresting the horizon when I rolled back onto the base. I wasted no time hightailing it to my waiting helicopter. I was already late to deliver my bribe money, and I wasn't waiting around for official charges to be filed.

"We made it back to base just as a Blackhawk was getting ready to take off," Ariel explained, eyes locked on me. "I asked the first guys I saw how the fuck they were able to call in air support so precise. They said it was some fucking, crazy CIA spook, then pointed at the helicopter. You were sitting in the door, one foot resting on the skid, an M4 on your lap with your arm propped up on a big-ass duffel bag. I couldn't see anything except your hair, long, red hair."

He pointed at my head needlessly and I sighed. I needed a hat.

Well this explained why I didn't recognize him. We'd technically never met, but nothing said nice to meet you like bombs from an A-10 Thunderbolt and hellfire rounds from an Apache. Talk about makin' it rain.

"Names Ford, Abraham Ford, Sergeant First Class, 1-77 Armored Regiment."

He snapped to attention in the middle of his sentence. I'd already pegged Ariel as former military. He moved like it, held his weapon like it, and definitely cussed like it. I blew out a breath, holding up a hand to stop him before he saluted.

"Nice to meet you Abraham." He held out his huge bear claw of a hand and I coughed uncomfortably, shaking it. "Alex."

"Nice to meet you ma'am."

Apocalypse Barbie sent me a venomous glare that made my lips twitch in amusement. So her and Ariel were fucking. Good to know.

"Just Alex is fine," I corrected, pulling my hand away less he shake it all damn day.

"Let's go," Rick announced and could've kissed him.

Merle, Daryl and I fell in step side-by-side in the middle of the pack. We'd been walking for most of the day, trying to put some distance between us and the still smoking remains of Terminus.

"CIA spook huh?" Merle inquired, his tone light. I groaned. I knew this was going to follow me.

"Paramilitary operations officer," I corrected. Daryl snorted and Merle smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "Fine, CIA spook." Daryl glanced at me, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. "I hate you both," I huffed, "Fine, I was an assassin. Are you happy now you redneck terrorists?"

Merle cackled and I marveled at his ability to laugh no matter the circumstance. Daryl grinned, his hand brushing mine before he hooked a single finger around one of mine. I looked at him briefly, wishing we could hit the pause button, even for a second. I hadn't seen him in over a week, and when I finally found him he was moments away from being executed and subsequently eaten.

Even after the initial threat had passed and we'd all recovered from the shock of Carol, Tyreese and Nugget there was no time to rest. There was a possibility someone survived the mayhem at Terminus, and if they had, they'd be out for blood. Not to mention the massive herd we'd attracted to the area.

The only time we'd managed to sneak for ourselves was a few minutes behind the rickety cabin, his body pinning me against the wall, our lips frantic while Rick plotted a course. It wasn't enough, not hardly. I peaked at my husband, admiring his profile and heaved a heavy sigh. Who was I kidding? Nothing was ever enough when it came to Daryl Dixon.

A lone walker lumbered out of the woods, hardly anyone paying it a glance, waiting for Deadpool to karate chop it. When she reached back to retrieve her trusty samurai sword I stopped, my heart sinking. She'd lost the weapon at Terminus. I hated those dick-bags even more now.

Pulling a knife from my waist I threw the blade, and the walker dropped dead, my knife sticking out of her forehead. I walked forward to retrieve it, gently squeezing Deadpool's arm when I passed. She gave me a wordless nod, her lips pressed firmly together in anger. I heard Ariel mutter something to Apocalypse Barbie, both their faces intense as they watched our group.

"Are we sure we can trust them?" I whispered to Daryl a moment later.

He grunted, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the straps of his crossbow. That could mean yes or it could mean hell-fucking-no. The fact none of the newcomers were sporting an arrow in the ass had me leaning towards yes, but you never really knew with Katniss. It was minute-to-minute with him sometimes.

The three of them helped us escape from Terminus so that was something, and it was obvious Ariel was grateful I'd saved his enormous ass back in Iraq, but that meant little now. Neither of us were Soldiers anymore so I expected no loyalty from the man. I'd be keeping my eyes on all three of them.

We walked for the rest of the day without incident, only stopping once the sun had set and it was simply too dangerous to proceed. I sat on a log, rifle across my lap keeping watch with Daryl while the others slept. Reaching over I touched his face, running a fingertip along the angry, red bruise under his eye.

"What happened?"

He covered my hand with his, drawing it away from his face and pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. It was his way of telling me he was fine.

"Some guys I was with for a while."

It was a reminder of everything I still didn't know. We may have only been separated for 10 days, but a lot could happen in an hour, much less 10 days.

"Had a falling out?" He held my hand, interlacing our fingers, chin resting on his crossbow.

"They weren't what I thought." It was clear from his tone it was hard for him to talk about for reasons I didn't understand. "After Beth…" I knew he and Beth got out of the prison together, and at some point she was taken by a car with a white cross. "I came 'cross them huntin'. They had a code and I was…"

"Alone," I finished.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath, staring into the dark woods. "I wasn't with 'em long b'fore we crossed paths with Rick, Michonne and Carl. Joe wanted to kill 'em. I stopped him."

I frowned, thinking back to our first day after the prison. "You said his name was Joe?"

It was hardly an uncommon name, but the odds of a group of men being led by a guy named Joe in the same area were astronomical.

"Yeah."

"You were with The Claimers?"

His head snapped to me, face worried. "How ya know 'em?"

"I didn't. I don't." I was suddenly very glad we had the good sense to hide. "Merle and I came across them the day after the prison. Some guy named Len accused another guy of stealing." Daryl stiffened immediately at the name. "Joe beat the shit out of him as a warning, told him it was his last chance. They left after that."

"Piece of shit," Daryl snarled.

"Joe or Len?"

"Both." Figured. "The others killed Len when that sumbitch accused _me of stealin'_." Well, you couldn't say Joe wasn't a man of his word. His grip on my hand tightened, a haunted look flashing across his face. "I'm glad they didn't see ya Red."

"Yeah, they struck me as the un-neighborly type."

I was aiming to ease some of the tension he carried and was rewarded with a slight smirk. I'd count that as a win. He didn't need to know how close we'd come to discovery thanks to Merle _'I'm Scared of Tiny Spiders'_ Dixon.

A twig snapped and the two of us were on our feet in an instant. I held my rifle up, our eyes meeting as the crunching of leaves reached our ears. I scanned the woods, but this late at night, with absolutely no light, it was impossible to see anything. After several seconds of nothing Daryl relaxed, marginally.

"It's nothin'. Probably an animal."

It didn't feel like nothing or an animal. It felt like we were being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a slight shiver making goosebumps erupt across my skin. Yeah, there was someone out there, but they were smart enough to keep their distance. There was nothing I could do in the dead of night except stay alert so I settled back on the log. The rest of our watch passed without incident, but I never could shake the off-putting feeling even as we walked back to camp after being relieved by Glenn and Maggie.

"Relax," Daryl said, hand at the small of my back. "Ain't nothin' out there."

"Uh-huh." I agreed more because I was too tired to argue than because I believed it.

Everyone was asleep at camp, hunkered around the fire for warmth. Daryl led us away from the masses to where Merle was sprawled out on the ground snoring like he was on a Sleep Number Mattress and not the unforgiving ground. It was disconcerting I found the rhythmic, loud wheezing coming from him comforting. Daryl stared at his brother, kicking him with the tip of his boot in an effort to shut him up.

"Bastard makes more noise than Lil' Asskicker."

"You get used to it."

Until then you felt the overwhelming need to punch him in the face, but after a while it was sort of like one of those noise makers, but instead of rain or waves crashing it was raspy gasps. Who knew sleep apnea was so hypnotic?

I lay down, using my pack as a pillow while Daryl curled his body around mine. I sighed, utterly content. It'd been 10 long days since he'd held me, and that was 10 days too long. I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer before tucking his arm into my chest. He moved my hair out of his face, his nose brushing my neck and causing an involuntary quiver.

He chuckled, "Missed ya too Red."

"You have no idea Legolas."

If we weren't surrounded by 10 plus people, to include children, I would show him exactly how much I missed him. Repeatedly.

"Go to sleep. Gotta get up early to hunt." I would rather eat a handful of bumble bees than get up early to hunt. "Thought ya were allergic to bees."

I huffed, goddamn brain to mouth filter failing me yet again.

"Venom in general," I corrected.

"That's right." He was outright laughing now. "Pufferfish if I 'member correctly?"

"You're going to regret making fun of me when a pufferfish kills me."

Considering they lived primarily in salt water on the other side of the world the chances of running across one in Georgia was pretty low, but still, it was the principle of the thing.

"I'll keep that in mind." He didn't sound the least bit concerned. The prick. He adjusted his body, hand working its way under my shirt to lay flat against my stomach, and my thoughts strayed from pufferfish to sex. "Stop."

I rolled over slightly so I could see his face. "How do you do that?"

He smiled, eyes closed, not revealing his secrets. I swear the man was part Jedi.

"G'night Red."

"Goodnight Legolas."

"Love ya," he muttered so soft I barely heard it. I smiled, eyes drifting closed.

"I love you too."

The next thing I knew someone was kicking me in the kidney. I rolled onto my back with a curse, the hand wrapped around my PPQ swinging forward in a sloppy 180 degree arc. I blinked sleep away from my eyes, aiming the weapon at the asshole responsible for waking me up.

"If this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life we're gonna have to come up with some ground rules," Daryl said casually, pushing the gun out of his face.

I blinked at him, dropping the gun and sitting up. "How many words were in that sentence?" He shot me a glare, but I was too tired to care. Glaring didn't work on me before noon. "Had to be some kind of record right?"

"Come on." He didn't wait for me as he stalked off into the woods, crossbow on his shoulder.

"Don't try to make up for it now."

"Alex please," Rick moaned, pulling a jacket over his head.

"Sorry," I apologized, standing up and stretching.

Judging by the lack of sun in sky I was guessing we only got three, maybe four hours of sleep total. I knew we needed food. I also knew outside of Merle, Daryl and I were the group's best chance of finding it, but for fuck's sake it was so early I didn't think any animals would be up. A rattling snort drew my attention to my brother-in-law, and I shot his still sleeping form a look that would peel paint off a wall. Why couldn't he hunt with Daryl 'Sleep is a Crutch' Dixon? It was a complete accident when my boot lightly tapped the side of his big old head on my way out of camp.

A few hours later we had an impressive haul of squirrels or rather it would be impressive if we didn't have an entire village to feed. We were right back where we started last winter, in desperate need of larger game or somewhere to loot. The two of us stepped out of the woods and froze instantly. Daryl put his hands in the air, eyeing the barrel of Rick's rifle.

"We surrender," he deadpanned.

I raised my eyebrows, looking at Rick than his rifle. "This feels familiar."

"I didn't have a rifle then," he corrected, remembering our first meeting over a year ago at the Greene farm.

"No, just a cannon." That Colt Python would have ripped me in two at that range.

"No tracks, no nothin'," Daryl said, keeping his voice low.

We hadn't told anyone but Rick what we heard last night, not wanting to cause unnecessary panic. While hunting we kept an eye out for any signs someone was nearby, but found nothing. Daryl was by far the better tracker between the two of us, and when even he came up empty I felt my frustration mount.

"So whatever you heard last night?" Rick probed.

"It was more what we felt," he answered. "If someone _was watchin'_ us we would've seen somethin'."

Rick looked at me and I bit my lip. "It still doesn't feel right."

I trusted my gut and my gut told me someone was out there. The last time I ignored this feeling Lori and T paid the ultimate price.

"Keep an eye out," Rick instructed, trusting my instincts despite the lack of evidence.

Daryl and I led the way as I looked over my shoulder, giving Carl a playful wink that made him smile before checking on the newcomers.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"I don't trust the new guys."

He shook his head. "Ya don't trust nobody."

"Not true," I corrected immediately. "I trust you." He gave me what I could only assume was the Daryl version of _'duh'_. "And Merle." Same look. "And Rick."

He stopped me before I named everyone _except_ the new people. "Ya always do this when someone new shows up."

"You sound like Carol," I huffed.

"Glenn said Tara saved his life."

"Before or after she tried to kill us at the prison?"

He ignored my rebuttal. "And Abraham and his crew helped us get outta Terminus."

"All while plotting behind our backs to leave the first chance they get."

Again, he ignored me.

"Gotta have more faith in people Red." My steps faltered, head swinging in his direction in stunned disbelief. His lips twitched in a barely there smile. "Sorry, forgot who I was talkin' to for a minute."

"Did you just…" I stuttered, trying to find the words. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Shut up."

I turned around, walking backwards, waving a hand over my head to get Carol's attention. "Daryl made a joke." I pointed at him, nodding enthusiastically at her laughter. "Carl, Daryl made a joke. Merle, you hear that?"

"Pain in my ass," he mumbled, picking up the pace and forcing me to turn around and walk normally or get left behind.

"Love you too babe."

Somewhere in the distance someone screamed for help and our procession stopped. I waited, ears straining to pinpoint the location as they yelled again. I took off, sprinting towards the voice.

"Red!" Daryl screamed behind me, "Goddamn it, wait!"

I didn't stop, following the screams as I ducked under branches and darted around trees. A few seconds later I found the source of the screaming, a priest on top of a giant boulder surrounded by four walkers. It was like the beginning of a horrible joke. I pulled knives from my waist, not about to waste precious ammunition on only four walkers. I threw two knives, quickly drawing two more and killing the remaining two.

"Ahh, help, help!"

The rest of the group ran up behind me, everyone watching the priest who kept screaming.

"Someone want to tell him help has arrived?" I could practically feel Daryl's blue-eyed stare. "Don't gimme that look," I said without acknowledging him, walking forward to pick up my knives. "You're the one who told me to be nice to new people."

"Yeah, _be nice_ ," he growled, "Never said nothin' 'bout chargin' into danger ya know nothin' 'bout."

"Well then you should be more specific."

"Don't worry 'bout them," Merle added, patting Carl on the shoulder. "It's their idea of foreplay."

"Gross," Carl cringed.

"Keep watch," Rick instructed, eyeing the priest who'd finally stopped screaming. "Come on down."

The priest didn't really climb off the boulder as much as he fell off the boulder. He looked like he might pass out at any moment, his entire body shaking so violently he was liable to snap a bone. Rick sent me a look, and I nodded, staying close. He may be a "man of the cloth", but I would send him to converse with his maker personally if he twitched the wrong way.

"You OK?" Rick asked.

He certainly didn't look OK. He held up a finger, leaning forward and puking his guts out. I scrambled back, trying to avoid the spew.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl smirked as I eyed the vomit coating the tips of my boots. "See, this is why I'm not nice to people." He puked again, a horrible gurgling wrench that made my stomach swim and mouth water. "Christ, pull yourself together man."

Ariel snorted and Merle just laughed. If this wasn't a joke before it sure as shit was now.

"Sorry," he offered, sending me an apologetic look.

"Tell it to my boots," I grumbled, stepping further away from him just in case he wasn't done.

"Thank…thank you. I'm Gabriel." As in the angel, from the Bible? This was surreal.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

The priest laughed at Rick's question like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. I was instantly suspicious.

"Do I look like I would have any weapons?" he countered.

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like," Ariel stated in a deadly voice.

Hear, hear!

"I have no weapons of any kid." Rick glanced at me and I nodded yes. He was telling the truth, but for the life of me that made no sense. "The word of God is the only protection I need."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. Someone kill me. I can't.

"Sure didn't look like it," Daryl commented and I made a mental note to high-five him later. The priest squirmed, smiling in a way that suggested he absolutely did not find what he was about to say funny.

"I called for help. Help came," he gestured to me.

"I'm gonna need him at least 10-feet away from me at all times," I told Deadpool. She smiled, eyes flicking back to the nervous priest who was clearly crazier than all of us combined.

"Do you have…" he trailed off, voice shaky, "Have any food? Whatever…I had left…it…just hit the ground."

Why was he so nervous? It made my temperamental third eye twitch. I suppose it was possible he was shaken from his "near death experience", but was there more to it?

"I've got some pecans," Carl offered without hesitation.

He was such a good kid. None of us had eaten anything substantial in a day and a half and here he was offering up his rations to a stranger.

"Thank you." Nugget cooed in Tyreese arms, the priests eyes locking onto her as he smiled. "That's a beautiful child."

Deadpool and I moved as a unit, the two of us blocking his view of girl. He flinched when he saw the look in our eyes, hands fidgeting uncomfortably while Rick continued to stare him down like he was trying to suck out his soul.

"Do you have a camp?" the priest finally asked when he couldn't take the silence a moment longer.

"No." Rick took a step forward, his stance threatening. "Do you?"

"I have a church." Of course he did.

"Hold your hands above your head," Rick ordered with a flick of his wrists. He stepped forward, searching the man. "How many walkers have you killed?"

Deadpool and I eyed each other, a silent conversation passing between us. Judging from the state we found him in I would say a big, fat, zero for people _and_ walkers. She countered with a slight raise of an eyebrow. She thought he'd killed at least one, probably by accident. I held out my hand and she slapped hers into it, shaking firmly. Game on. Loser gets the shitty watch.

"Uh, I, uh, none actually."

I gave her a triumphant smirk and she huffed out an annoyed breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rick turned him around, pushing him up against the boulder, continuing to frisk him. "How many people have you killed?"

"None." He sounded baffled as to why Rick would even ask the question. I smiled at Deadpool, nudging her with my elbow while she pouted.

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence," he stated plainly.

Rick got in the man's face. "What have you done?" Gabriel's lips trembled, looking around for help. Good luck with that father. "We've all done something."

"I'm a sinner," he began and I barely contained the urge to roll my eyes at the cliché nature of this entire conversation. "I sin almost every day, but those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers."

The last bit was the first time he spoke with any true conviction, hands not shaking, face resolute.

"You said you had a church?" Deadpool snarled. Just like that he looked terrified again and I grinned. That never got old. In lieu of an answer he nodded, gesturing in the opposite direction.

"Lead on," Rick said, eyes calculating.

He led us deeper into the woods, Rick and Daryl flanking him as I kept pace beside Merle. I highly doubted this guy could take out Nugget much less any of us, but it didn't mean I was willing to risk it.

"Whatcha think?" Merle asked, eyes honed in on the priest like he was devil himself. And people said I had trust issues.

"He wasn't lying when he said he hadn't killed any walkers or people." I bit my lip in thought. "Maybe he's getting help from someone or has access to resources. No one makes it this long with 'only God as protection'."

Merle snorted as we continued our trek to the church. The thought made my skin break out in hives. I wasn't just allergic to bees. I was allergic to church, much to my grandmother's chagrin.

"Did he just say somethin' 'bout stealin' our squirrels?"

I shrugged with indifference. "He's got a better chance of shitting in the Queen's purse than wrestling those things away from Merida."

I would pay him to try though. I could use some entertainment.

While Rick schooled the holy man in the appropriate use of humor I kept walking. Rick had tried to teach me the same lesson for over a year without any success. Maybe the second time was a charm.

Gabriel led us to an old church painted white literally smack dab in the middle of nowhere. It looked almost untouched by the disease ravaging the rest of the world, and I attributed that fact to its location. It was hard to fuck something up when you couldn't find it. Gabriel marched right up to the door, ready to swing it open wide, but Rick stopped him.

"Hold up." I followed Daryl around to the other side, the two of us splitting up to check the perimeter. "Can we take a look around first?"

"See anythin'?" Daryl asked and I nodded no as we made our way back to the front door.

Gabriel reluctantly handed Rick the keys, stepping aside and letting him open the door. He went straight down the center aisle, Deadpool following him while I peeled off to the right, Daryl behind me. Merle and Ariel hooked around to the left, weapons raised as we systematically cleared the tiny church.

"Clear," I called out once I reached the front.

"Clear," Merle copied.

"Clear." Ariel

There were no walkers and no living, but the place still gave me the heebie-jeebies. It was immaculate, not a dust particle anywhere, candles covering the center worship area, and back office desks blanketed in piles of paper that looked to be handwritten copies of the Bible. The only thing that looked mildly out-of-place were the rows of empty, open cans lining the back wall, but even those appeared color coordinated and meticulously lined up. Someone was OCD like a mutha.

"What do you think?" Rick asked.

"At first I thought he was surviving on someone else's good graces," I mused, looking around the church.

"Like God?" Deadpool smirked.

I smiled at her. I walked by the line of can's in the front of the church. "I don't think anyone's helping him. I think he's been hiding here, alone."

Which accounted for his inability to kill a fly, and extreme social awkwardness.

"Let's get the others," Rick nodded, and we walked outside, a nervous Gabriel fidgeting near the door.

"Cool your tits Padre, gonna be a long day if ya keep that up," Merle advised, striding by the man without a backwards glance. The preacher looked aghast, but whether it was the tit part or the padre part I wasn't sure.

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well, I would have been surprised."

Rick's eyes found mine and I shook my head yes at his unasked question. He was awkward, useless, and a coward, but I sensed no ill-intent. He wasn't lying. He was hiding something, but it was harmless. Probably a personal demon and I didn't give a single fuck about that. I didn't know anyone who wasn't toting around a truckload of those.

"Thanks for this," Carl smiled at the man, bouncing Nugget in his arms.

He was genuinely thankful we had a roof over our heads for the night. It was nice to see a glimpse of the kind, caring, little boy I met what felt like a lifetime ago. It'd been a long time since I'd seen him do anything other than frown with a gun in his hand.

"We found a short bus out back," Ariel told Rick, "It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two."

"They seem in an awful hurry to get going," I whispered to Daryl who shrugged.

I knew all about Eugene and his "cure". I was no scientist, but what little I'd heard sounded about as believable as the second Becky on Roseanne. Ariel continued to push Rick to move on, but it was Deadpool who put her foot down. She practically snarled at the much larger man, squaring off with him and telling him we needed time to recover and rest. Ariel wasn't hearing it.

"We need supplies no matter what we decide," she growled.

"That's right," Rick agreed, walking into the church. Guess that convo was over.

"Short bus ain't goin' nowhere," Daryl told Ariel, "We'll bring ya back some baked beans."

One-by-one the group passed by Ariel pledging their allegiance to the Rick-ta-tor-ship. He looked in disbelief, but said nothing. Really, what could he say? When I walked by he scoffed, unable to keep his mouth shut.

"Didn't figure you as a sheep."

I stopped, turning to face him with a small smile. It would take a hell of a lot more than that to get under my skin, but the same couldn't be said for him.

"You really think Billy Ray Cyrus over there has a miracle cure?" I nodded my chin at the man sporting the horrendous black mullet, my eyes dancing with amusement when Apocalypse Barbie took a measured step in front of him.

"He does." It was clear there would be no changing his mind on the topic. "We're headed to D.C."

"That doesn't sound dangerous at all."

He snorted, "Everything's dangerous, you know that."

"Cheers," I agreed. The larger cities were veritable death traps. Hello Atlanta. Venturing back into one of the most densely populated regions of the United States didn't sound like a fun way to pass the time.

"Eugene can end this," he stated plainly. My eyes slide to Billy Ray. For all intents and purposes he looked like a confident man affirming what his protector was saying, and that was the problem. He was trying _way too hard_. "He worked in a lab before all this, and can find a cure."

"Hmm," I responded in a non-committal voice.

"It's true," Apocalypse Barbie huffed.

My eyes slide back to Billy Ray as I cracked my knuckles. I'd been around the man less than a day, but there was a better chance of this trio riding a unicorn to D.C. than him finding a cure. He was eccentric and there was no denying his intelligence, but his extremely poor social skills, coordination and inability to read the simplest of body language didn't scream world saving scientist.

Yes, I heard him using sciencey words combined with unecessarily long-winded, run on sentences, but he sounded like he was reading from Wikipedia. Submarine and Hershel were actual science nerds and when they spoke their clinical authority was unquestionable. When Billy Ray spoke it sounded like he was reading from a recipe book. They were being played. They just didn't know it.

"Sure thing."

Inside the church Rick was still interrogating Gabriel who had an answer for everything. I walked up to him, cooing at Nugget over his shoulder, grinning when she reached for me with her chubby fingers. Rick chuckled, handing her to me as I cradled her head and kissed her fat little cheeks. Damn I missed her.

I sat down in a pew, propping up my pack and kicking up my feet, laying the little girl against my chest. She was sleepy, huge yawns and droopy eyes telling me she needed a nap. Merle sauntered over while everyone discussed raiding a nearby food bank. I lifted up my feet, allowing him to sit before putting my boots in his lap. We listened to Gabriel trying to convince Rick he would be no help on the run. Tell us something we didn't know, but that wasn't the point. Rick wasn't taking him because he would be helpful. He was taking him because he didn't trust him. It was much easier to put a bullet in the back of someone's head when they were standing in front of you.

Rick walked away from a distraught priest. His face softened instantly when he saw his daughter already fast asleep on my chest, her head turned sideways as she snored peacefully, arms and legs splayed out.

"We're gonna hit up a nearby food bank." I nodded, trying to stay still even though the sleeping baby was out cold. "I already asked Tyreese to stay, but I would feel more comfortable it you and Merle did too."

Merle's head snapped to Rick's, eyes bulging, shocked he would ask him to protect his daughter though I wasn't sure why. Merle had proved his loyalty 10 times over. He was the only who still didn't understand we trusted him, implicitly.

"No problem," I answered for both of us when Merle just continued to sputter. Rick smiled at me, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Thank you," he said softly, "Thank you both."

He wasn't thanking us for watching Nugget and we both knew it. Merle choked, but said no actual words.

"That's Merle for thank you."

Rick laughed. "She missed you." He pointed at Nugget who snuggled further into me.

"I'm her favorite Aunt, of course she missed me."

"Here's where we're headed," he handed Merle a map, the location of the food bank circled. "If we're not back in a few hours…"

"Don't worry, I'll come rescue you," I smiled at him, "Again." He snorted, leaning down and kissing his daughter on the side of the head. He nodded once more to Merle who still hadn't snapped out of his self-induced stupor. "You look like you don't know whether to grab your ass or wind your watch."

Merle's mouth finally closed as he frowned. "The hell ya sayin'?"

"She meant check yur ass or scratch yur watch," Daryl clarified, stepping into the pew behind us.

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No," the brother's said in unison.

"I'm as lost as last year's Christmas presents."

"Easter eggs." They spoke again as one, identical smiles on their faces.

"I'm just gonna quit while I'm ahead." Meaning I was going to stop while I was _way_ behind. "Headed out?"

"Gonna try to find some water with Carol," Daryl said, adjusting the strap of his crossbow. "She ain't actin' right."

Well, since she murdered two people in cold blood then set them on fire I had a pretty good idea as to why, but I understood his point. It was obvious she was struggling to come to terms with what she'd done. The two friends hadn't had a moment to speak privately since we escaped from Terminus. A little one-on-one time would do them both good.

"Be careful," I smiled at him, adjusting Nugget to keep her from sliding off my chest.

"Always am." Debatable. He tilted his head to the side, looking down at me thoughtfully.

"What?"

He scratched his chin. "Looks good on ya." I frowned, confused and he pointed at Nugget. My eyes bulged in disbelief and I almost swallowed my tongue.

"Don't get any ideas Legolas. Happy Valley is only accepting admissions. No exits are permitted at this time."

Now it looked like Merle swallowed his tongue.

"Jesus Christ," he grumbled, face going pale. I made a _'tsk tsk'_ noise. We were, after all, in the house of the Lord. "Shut up."

"You're the one who carries around a pocket Bible," I reminded him. "Come here sailor."

I reached for Daryl, wrapping my fingers around his shirt and pulling him down. He leaned over the pew, careful of Nugget as our lips met. I sighed, tracing my tongue along his lower lip before he opened his mouth wider deepening the kiss. Merle mumbled another curse not fit for a place of worship, moving like he intended to get up and run away. Daryl pulled away, grinning down at me in a way that made my mouth go dry. I kept one hand in his shirt, pointing a finger at my brother-in-law.

"You wake this baby I break your leg," I warned. He sat back down with a huff and I readjusted my feet in his lap. "Take care of Carol."

He nodded, brushing back some hair that fell in my face. "I will. Take care of Merle."

"I think you're getting the better end of the deal."

He smirked, bending down and giving me a quick kiss on the forehead before he turned and walked out of the church like a man on a mission. So, like Daryl. Soon it was just Carl, Merle, Tyreese, Nugget and I. It was quiet and it wasn't long before I felt myself getting sleepy. Merle had his small Bible out, reading, the pages worn and dog eared in various places.

"When did Hershel give that to you?" I asked with a lazy yawn.

I'd seen the old man collecting Bibles from around the prison. He was a devout believer and saving the sacred texts of his religion was important to him. I never knew he gave one to Merle until I found him reading it one night after the prison fell. He would stare at it for hours by the light of the dying fire.

"Don't remember." He licked his thumb, turning a page. "Yur not a believer?"

I rubbed Nugget's back, inhaling slowly. "I believe in a lot of things."

"Ain't much of an answer." True. "How ya make it through this without faith Firecracker?"

"I never said I didn't have faith." He stared at me, waiting. "Not all faith is derived from books." He considered my statement. "I live by my own."

"How's that any different?"

I shrugged, "It's not. You believe the words in your book, and I believe the words in my soul. Faith is faith Captain Hook. Doesn't matter where it comes from or what shape it takes as long as you have it."

Nugget jolted suddenly, her face going red in an instant as I tried to soothe her back into sleep. She squirmed, ignoring my attempts to persuade her not to cry.

"Gotta keep that baby quiet." I sent him a withering glare. Tell me something I didn't know. "I'm just sayin' she gets goin' and she's gonna attract a lotta walkers."

The kid had a healthy set of lungs that was for sure. Tyreese and Carl stood up, grabbing weapons. I started humming, continuing to rub her little back and the sound made her calm almost immediately. I forgot how much she loved music. I kept humming, rocking her gently, her adorable string of incoherent babbles making me smile.

"She likes that," Merle commented.

"Yeah," I agreed peering down at her as Tyreese and Carl sat down in the pew in front of us. "She a sucker for my singing."

"You sing?" Carl asked, eyes lighting up. I shrugged, embarrassed, but he smiled bright. "Will you sing for her?"

"I don't think…" Nugget lifted her head, her tiny face upset I was no longer humming. When she batted her blue eyes at me I was a goner. "OK."

As I started humming again I heard the piano playing in my mind, each key stroke a distinctive note.

 **Everybody knows that the dice are loaded  
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed**

Carl leaned over the pew like the song was pulling him in, his face rapt with attention.

 **Everybody knows the war is over  
Everybody knows the good guys lost**

Tyreese pulled his signature beanie off his head, holding it over his heart.

 **Everybody knows the fight was fixed  
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich  
That's how it go-oes  
Everybody knows**

Nugget's eyes were closed, her soft snores making me smile. I hugged her tighter, grateful she was alive, grateful she was in my arms. My mind went back to Daryl's earlier words and my breathing hitched slightly. For the briefest of moments I imagined a future where I held my own child, singing them to sleep.

 **Everybody knows that the boat is leaking  
Everybody knows that the captain lied  
Everybody got this broken feeling  
Like their father or their dog just died  
Everybody talking to their pockets  
Everybody wants a box of chocolates  
And a long-stem rose  
Everybody knows**

Merle's hand curled around his Bible, a tiny smile on his face only I could see. This wasn't the first time he'd heard me sing. There was only so much to keep you occupied during the long, lonely nights when we were separated from the group.

 **Everybody kno-ooo-ows, everybody kno-ows  
That's how it go-ooo-oes**

 **Everybody kno-ooo-ows**

I might not share Merle's faith in the man upstairs, but I wasn't lying when I said I had my own. We had to believe there was more to our existence than what we'd survived thus far. If we didn't, then what was the point?

I closed my eyes, hearing the music, letting the words touch what was left of my soul.

 **Everybody kno-ooo-ows, everybody kno-ooo-ows  
That's how it go-ooo-oes  
Everybody knows**

When I opened my eyes tears were streaming down Tyreese's face, Carl was sniffling and Merle was looking at me like I was a stranger.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. "You've heard me sing before."

He shook his head. "Not like that."

"Me either."

Daryl's voice made us all turn towards the door. It appeared everyone was back, and I do mean everyone. Side note, we were doing a crap job of keeping watch.

"Technically you've never heard me sing so you have nothing to compare it to."

"I have." Glenn.

"Me too." Maggie.

"It was beautiful." Rick.

"OK, enough, I'm getting all misty eyed." I brushed off the compliments, sitting up with a still sleeping Nugget in my arms. "Please tell me you found food."

Deadpool held up a few backpacks. "Hit the motherload."

"Are there ABCs and 123s?"

"No, but there's wine," she grinned or semi-scowled which was her version of a toothy smile.

"Even better."

I handed Nugget to Maggie, helping unload food. My mouth watered as I took in all the cans, wine and non-perishables they brought back. We hadn't seen this much food in one place since the prison and even then there were so many people it never lasted very long.

Carol, Sasha and Tara began cooking while Ariel promptly started cracking open wine bottles, priorities and all. I kept my eye on Maggie, making sure she stayed fully engaged with Nugget. If she helped cook we wouldn't need to worry about walkers because we'd all be dead from food poisoning. Tyreese and Bob lit a few candles, strategically spreading them out around until the small space was illuminated despite the setting sun.

Everyone chatted and laughed while we ate. It was the first time in a long time we weren't scared or worried about our next move. I leaned against Daryl, licking my plate clean. My belly was so full it almost hurt, and I honestly couldn't remember the last time that happened.

"Would you like some more wine?" Gabriel asked, handing us a bottle.

"I'm not gonna pass that up," I answered, reaching for the bottle, but Daryl swiped it out of his hand before I could get a hold of it. He gave me a knowing look, setting the unopened bottle of wine beside him and out of my reach. "Fuddy-duddy."

"The hell does that even mean?"

I shrugged, taking his plate and licking it clean too. No sense in letting good crumbs go to waste.

"I have no idea, but it sounded right so I went with it." He smirked and I leaned in to kiss him, but stopped when I realized Gabriel was still standing in front of us. "Do you have another bottle of wine?"

"I wanted to…" His eyes shifted back-and-forth between the two of us, clearly nervous. "Say thank you. To you. For before…when you saved me."

Wow, he sounded just like Daryl when he apologized, shitty.

"Sure thing Gabby." But if you could not puke on my shoes next time I would appreciate it.

"I know you're not a believer," he continued, oblivious to my dismissal. Daryl's shoulders stiffened slightly, his hunter eyes honing in on the priest. "But what you did, saving another life, is a testament to your soul. You're not beyond redemption. If you wanted I could…"

"Listen, I'm sure your heart's in the right place, but you're barking up the wrong tree."

He took a step closer and Daryl reached for his crossbow. The priest stopped immediately, swallowing hard. "Forgiveness is never out of reach."

This man couldn't take a hint. I didn't want to talk about this, and I certainly didn't want forgiveness, if that was even possible. No one understood the stains on my soul like I did. I was, after all, the one that put them there, and pretending they could be erased like they never happened was blasphemy. I didn't want the weight of what I'd done lifted from my shoulders. The memories of those atrocities were the only thing keeping me from repeating them. You can't run from the things you've done, and you certainly couldn't Hail Mary your way out of them.

"My sins need more than holy water."

I wasn't your everyday sinner. I was much, much more. Words like liar, thief, and murderer rolled around in my head. Daryl interlaced our fingers, squeezing my hand gently, attempting to stop my train of thought.

"Thanks for the wine Padre."

Daryl's words said thank you, but his tone said fuck off. Thankfully the warning registered even with someone as obtuse as Gabriel. He nodded jerkily, practically running down the aisle in an effort to put some space between himself and the redneck.

"Ya good?"

I squeezed his hand. "Gotta be." He grinned, closing the distance between us, but before his lips could touch mine Ariel started pontificating. "Goddamn cock blockers."

"House of the Lord lil' sister," Merle hummed, kicking me in the back with his boot from his spot in the pew behind me.

"Bite me Captain Hook."

He chuckled, "I'll leave that to Darlina."

I tried to pay attention to the gigantic red-head and his monologue, but all that registered was we were badasses. I raised my almost empty wine bottle in agreement. I could get down with that assessment. When he toasted to survivors I made a move for the unopened wine bottle, but Daryl smacked my hand away.

"Its bad luck not to toast," I pouted.

"You're a lightweight Red."

"Neither here nor there Rambo."

"How many glasses ya had?" Glasses? I hadn't had any glasses, but I did have a bottle. And a half. "That's my point. Yur done."

My mouth dropped open in shock. " _How do you do that_?"

"Shhh."

Now it was Eugene's turn to explain how he was a fake scientist and could produce a fake cure. I knew all about faking. I was fake married for half a year, a fake flight attendant for a few weeks, and a fake good person for most of my life. When he said FUBAR I couldn't stop the giggles. I loved that acronym, and the Dixon brothers both shook their heads. It was possible they were right about me and the wine.

"Save it for the people out there," Ariel exclaimed with passion, ending his speech with enviable flare. Rick could learn a thing or two from him.

I put my chin in my hand. "Wow, he's got skills." The crazy part was he didn't plagiarize one word of his motivational speech. Merle flicked the side of my head, sigheing. "Ouch," I grumbled, rubbing my head.

The ball was in Rick's court now, but as everyone awaited his decision I watched Carol slip out the door. Where was _she_ going? While everyone clapped and cheered when Rick announced we were headed to D.C. I followed Carol. I found her killing a walker next to a car, a hastily packed bag thrown in the backseat. She turned around when I deliberately stepped on a twig, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a step closer. She hastily wiped her face, shaking her head.

"I don't know."

She looked broken and lost. My lips pressed into a thin line as I closed the distance between us, hugging her, her body shaking in my arms. She may not know what she was doing or why, but I did. I was an expert at avoidance and a black belt when it came to running which meant I knew her impulsive decision to flee would solve nothing. The awful, swirling feeling of pain trapped inside her would still be there no matter where she went. The only way to stop it was to find a way to live with what she'd done.

Someone stepped on a branch directly behind us, and I instantly released Carol, keeping her body behind mine. I hurled a knife at our attacker, who after closer inspection turned out to be my husband.

Oops.

The knife sailed by him, missing by about a mile, embedding itself in the trunk of a tree with a thump. Daryl froze on the road, eyes sweeping from me to the knife, an unimpressed look on his handsome face.

"I told you to stop sneaking up on me," I admonished, walking to get my knife. This was not my fault.

"Guess it's a good thing ya can't hold yur liquor or I'd be dead." I scoffed. That was ridiculous. If I could hold my liquor I never would have thrown the knife. "What are y'all doin'?"

"Girl talk," I answered when Carol's voice faltered. She couldn't hold Daryl's gaze, and I knew he was keenly aware of the troubles plaguing our mutual friend.

"Let's go," he nodded at Carol who sniffled, but followed him.

I'd just yanked my knife out of the tree when I heard the sound of tires squealing. A compact car shot by us on an adjacent road, kicking up leaves in its wake. It was shocking to see someone tearing down the road so close to the group, but Daryl's reaction was instantaneous. He turned around, running to the back of the car and smashing out the taillights. I didn't wait for him to explain, pushing Carol towards the car, already climbing in the front.

"What are you doing?" I didn't her answer because I had no idea.

That car meant something to Daryl, and there was absolutely no way I was letting him run off in the middle of the night without me. I held the title of craziest motherfucker in this family, and by god, it was staying that way. I patted my body, checking for weapons and sighing in relief that I had my knives and PPQ. Daryl jumped in the car, slamming his foot on the gas as the vehicle shot forward so fast we pulled a few G's.

"Daryl what in the world?" Carol shrieked from the backseat, her body tumbling to the side as he took the turn Tokyo drift style.

"They have Beth." Guess it was a good thing I only had two bottles of wine cause we were about to get it on. "I thought ya said ya only had one and a half?"

I grabbed the "oh shit" bar, holding on for dear life as we drove at speeds only previously achieved by airplanes.

"Seriously, level with me, how do you do that?"

* * *

 **Alex and Abraham have a "past", we found a priest, and are in hot pursuit of a car with a white cross. Let the games begin!**

 **You guys have a favorite part? Any guesses what's to come? Love it, hate it, love it?**

 **FYI, Alex is singing Everybody Knows by Sigrid**


	46. A White Cross

**A White Cross**

"How do you feel Alex?" Carol asked.

"I'm 80% sober." Daryl swerved to avoid a walker in the middle of the road, and I clamped my mouth shut so I didn't puke on the dashboard. "Or not."

"We need her sober by the time we get there," she commented matter-of-factly to Daryl.

"I'm sitting right here."

He grunted, completely ignoring me. "She'll be fine."

"Of course I'll be fine."

Even drunk off my ass I could hold my own, and I wasn't even drunk. I was slightly tipsy.

Carol sighed, "Why did you let her drink the wine?"

"Let me?" I scoffed.

"She was halfway through a bottle b'fore Merle found her."

"That's not true." I was almost _done_ with the bottle.

"I'm kind of surprised," she mused, still ignoring me. I pinched my arm to make sure I was actually sitting in the car and not dreaming. "You'd think someone with her…"

"Mad skills," I supplied.

"Violent tendencies," she grinned. Bitch. "Would be able to hold her liquor."

"I can hold my liquor just fine. It's not me. It's the holy wine. That shit is not to be trusted."

Daryl glanced at me, shaking his head. "Communion wine ain't no different than any other. It's just been blessed." Carol and I both raised our eyebrows. "What? Everybody knows that."

"I didn't," I said.

"Me either."

He scoffed, "Yur drunk and yur lying."

Carol laughed while I continued to pout. Maybe if I really focused I could will my blood alcohol level to even out.

"So it was just you and Beth after?"

"Yeah."

"You save her?"

"She's tough. She saved herself." I nodded in agreement, looking out the window. The youngest Greene daughter wasn't as fragile as she appeared. She hadn't been since we lost the farm, and spent a long winter on the road. "We were out there for a while. We got cornered and she got out in front of me. I don't know…she was just gone. All I saw was a car with a white cross."

The guilt in his voice made my stomach churn, and I reached over, taking his free hand. He interlaced our fingers, eyes never straying from the road.

"Just like that one." Carol pointed at the car we were following.

"Yep."

"You were with Merle the whole time?" she asked, finally acknowledging my presence.

"Yeah."

"What was _that_ like?" She sounded genuinely curious.

I shrugged, "We managed to find a boombox, landmines, and Flammin' Hot Chili Lime Cheetos so it wasn't a total loss."

She laughed, "He's different."

That was an understatement. Merle Dixon was a reformed man. Yes, he was still crass, rude and managed to talk about boobs more than social norms deemed acceptable, but he was a trusted member of the group. He'd earned his place long before the prison walls crumbled, and only solidified it in the aftermath. I trusted him with my life. He was my brother and not by marriage, by choice.

Our first night after the prison, by the light of a dying fire, he thanked me for taking a chance on him. He'd expressed hope he'd be worthy of that chance someday. I tried to tell him he already was, but he refused to hear it, refused to believe it. I would prove it to him, someday.

"He's one of us," I said quietly. Daryl squeezed my hand, the declaration meaning just as much to him as his brother.

"He is," Carol agreed, the three of us falling into silence. The car with the white cross was just cresting a hill in front of us, still unaware we were following.

"Rick's gonna wonder where we went." I bit my hip at Daryl's statement. He wasn't the only one. Merle was going to have a litter of kittens when he realized we vamoosed. "Tanks runnin' low."

"We can end this quick. Just run them off the road," Carol suggested.

"No, if we do that we may never find out where Beth is," I countered. Carol sat forward, arms resting on the front seats.

"If they're holding her somewhere you could get it out of the driver."

I turned to look at her and she shrugged non-apologetically.

"Some people take their secrets to the grave," I informed her. "Plus, interrogation done properly takes time and we don't have that."

"If we try and it don't work we're back to square one," Daryl agreed. "Right now we got the advantage. We'll see who they are. If they're a group, see what they can do. And then we'll do what we gotta do to get her back."

"They're heading north," she said, "I-85."

I suppressed a groan. "Atlanta."

Daryl blew out a heavy sigh I completely agreed with. Big cities were a no-no and I'd seen Atlanta's destruction first hand. I'd lost my sister, and barely escaped with my life fleeing the city. Merle lost a hand, and his brother for the better part of a year. Whatever happened I could guarantee this, it wasn't to be fun.

"Taking refuge in the city is suicide," Carol mused. She wasn't wrong, and that didn't sit right with me.

"What is it?"

I chewed on my lip, gathering my thoughts. Now I _had_ to sober up or we'd all die. Daryl waited with as much patience as he could muster. When he was at the point of exploding I finally spoke up.

"If they're living in the city they must have a sizeable force, a fortified compound, and access to resources."

Resources being weapons, lots of them. There are only three of us.

"So what do we do?"

Carol sounded scared. She should be. I had a bad feeling about this. Daryl waited for me to answer, and I licked my lips trying to come up with a lie that would make her feel more comfortable walking into a death trap.

"We'll be fine."

Daryl rolled his eyes at the empty reassurance, and I scowled. If he had something better I was all ears.

"Really?"

I grimaced, "Sure, no problem."

Thankfully she either chose to believe me or knew it really didn't matter what I said, and the rest of the trip into Atlanta was made in silence. Even the heavy cloak of darkness did nothing to mute the horror left behind in the once thriving city. We entered through a portion of the city hardest hit by the Government's futile efforts to contain the virus. Once majestic skyscrapers, a testament to man's architectural achievement, had been reduced to rubble. Enormous pieces of brick and building are scattered across the street. A trip that once took 10 minutes now takes over half an hour.

No one comments on the bodies. They're everywhere, some lying dead on the street where they fell, others trapped in cars where they sought refuge. I find solace in the fact they aren't walkers. It isn't much, but in the war-torn remains of Atlanta hope is a distant memory. I assumed every major city was bombed in the beginning, before we knew it wouldn't make a difference. I remembered when the first bomb hit. The massive incendiary devices fell from the sky instantly consuming the area in a blazing fireball that blasted out windows and melted iron.

Memories I'd long since buried surged to the surface, and I found it hard to breathe. The last time I walked these streets I lost my sister. I didn't see the discarded clothes, trash, and other garbage strewn along the sidewalks. The only thing I saw was death. It was a constant companion, a terrible friend. I saw my sister, the young woman who believed me when I said I would keep her safe, having her throat ripped out less than 10 feet away from me. An involuntary shutter wracked my body, and Daryl's head turned slightly.

"Ya good?" he asked, concerned.

"Gotta be."

I was absolutely, 100%, not good, but at least I was sober. Nothing said buzzkill like seeing the charred remnants of our civilization while reliving the worst day of your life. Daryl stopped the car when the red taillights illuminated the road stopped. We were here. The question was, where exactly was _here_? No one exited the vehicle, and I leaned forward.

"What the hell's he waitin' for?" Daryl pondered, his shoulders rigid with tension. Finally after a few seconds the driver killed the engine and Daryl followed suit. "There's two of 'em."

Good, it would make it a fair fight when I beat the shit out of them for taking Beth.

"Is that a uniform?" I asked, squinting.

"Looks like a cop."

Obviously they adhered more to the motto "punish and enslave" than "protect and serve". Carol pulled a weapon from her holster, cocking it. Daryl and I looked at her over our shoulders, and she merely shrugged.

"They might have seen us."

Unlikely. We followed them for miles and there was no indication they suspected it. The cop walked around a corner, and we lost sight of him. My fingers drummed against my leg, the anticipation making me jittery. Waiting was always the hardest part. I wanted to jump out of the car, stalk over to the men in blue and pistol whip them until they told me what I needed to know, but that wasn't stealthy. A walker slapped a bloody palm against my window making me jump five feet in the air, knife poised to strike as I sucked in a ragged breath.

"Fucking hell," I hissed. My heart couldn't take much more of this.

The walker banged its hands on the car trying to get through. Was it just me or was that loud AF? Daryl's fingers tightened on the wheel. If we waited much longer he was liable to crush the wheel to dust. Finally the cop came back dragging what appeared to be dead bodies. He paused when he heard the walker banging on our car, looking right at us. I pulled my PPQ, raising it slowly.

"He can't see us," Daryl assured me.

"Better safe than sorry," I whispered, staying absolutely still.

"Ya just want to shoot somebody." He was right.

"It's been weeks. I'm getting twitchy."

He pursed his lips, "Ya blew up the train station a few days ago."

"True, but there was so much going on I didn't really get to take it in."

"Is now really the time for this?" Carol whispered from behind us.

"It's always a good time to shoot someone," I answered.

"I meant the conversation." Oh, well in that case, probably not.

I was slightly disappointed when the cop abandoned his investigation, opting to climb back into the relative safety of his vehicle.

"What a pussy," I huffed.

The car pulled away and Daryl tried to start the car only to have the engine gurgle and die.

"Oh shit," he exclaimed, trying again. It was wasted effort. We were out of gas. "Tank's tapped." He sighed in frustration before adding, "They must be hole up in the city. If they weren't they'd have taken the bypass."

"Is that good for us or bad for us?" Carol asked. Honestly, I had no idea.

"We can't stay here," I added, looking around.

Daryl nodded, "We gotta move. Find some place to hole up till sunlight."

Carol sighed, "I know a place. It's a couple of blocks from here. We can make it."

I would defer to their expertise as this wasn't my city. When the world ended I'd ended up here by accident. I couldn't even remember where my sister's apartment was not that the knowledge would do us any good.

Daryl and I glanced at each briefly before I swung the door open knocking the loitering walker off his feet. I sprang out of the car, plunging my knife into his head then looking up-and-down the street for more. There were none close enough to worry about, but only if we moved quickly. Carol hopped out of the back, running across the street. Daryl and I followed as she led us down an alley before hooking a left, and pointing at a black door.

"Go Red."

I ran up the stairs leading to the door trying the handle and sighing when it was locked. Squatting down I pulled my lock pick set and a small flashlight from my back pocket.

"Two coming," Carol announced.

"Lot more than two," Daryl corrected, the growing litany of snarls making my mouth go dry. Less than a minute later I swung the door open cautiously, weapon ready as I cleared the immediate area.

When I saw nothing I turned slightly, "Let's go."

We rushed into the building, Daryl closing the door behind us. I led us down a hall, flashlight in hand, but so far the building was blessedly empty of both people and walkers which was odd, especially in downtown Atlanta. I spotted a body propped up against the wall and approached cautiously. She was dead-dead and had been for some time judging by the decomposition. Daryl retrieved a set of keys from her belt loop while Carol nodded to a glass door. Daryl glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, a silent question. How did she know her way around? I diverted my eyes, giving him an unconvincing shrug. I knew what this place was, and I was pretty sure I knew why she had such a good lay of the land. Both thoughts made me incredibly sad.

"Ya used to work here or somethin'?" he asked.

"Something."

Carol's voice sounded small and afraid. I walked over to her, taking her free hand in mine and giving it a light squeeze. She turned her head, lips pulled thin, face pale, but she smiled gratefully.

This was something we had in common. My mother sought refuge in places such as this when my father was at his worst. I remember many a night crammed into communal sleeping quarters with my sister tucked against my side as we tried to find a few moments to rest on a lumpy mattress surrounded by strangers. I hated my mother back then for her weakness, but now, seeing it through a different lens, I realized those might have been her bravest moments. The times she ran, to protect us and herself, she'd truly been courageous. Places like this hadn't saved her life, but maybe, just maybe, they'd saved Carol's.

I made my way to a side door only to find it locked, but before I could pull my lock pick set Daryl grunted, handing me the key ring. He held the light above my head while I found the right key, swinging the door open. Like all the other rooms this one was empty, but the three of us cleared the small bathroom, living quarters and bedroom with bunk beds just to be sure.

It was surprisingly nice. The shelters I'd stayed in as a child didn't have such upgraded living accommodations, not that it changed the feeling of sadness that lingered in the room. This was a place for someone to hide, to disappear, to run from the things that were hurting them. Hanging a fake Monet on the wall wasn't going to change that. Idly I wondered if Carol and Sophia had ever stayed in this very room. By the look on her face I guessed she had, and not for the first time I cursed her dead husband.

"What is this place?" Daryl asked, shinning the flashlight around the bedroom.

I stood in front of a small desk positioned along the wall, running my fingers over a book titled _Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse._

"Temporary housing," Carol answered absently, packing around the room.

"Ya came here?"

I walked away from the desk and the book, pointedly ignoring the looks from my husband.

"We didn't stay," Carol whispered.

Did anyone? We hadn't. Carol hadn't. I'd almost preferred the walker filled streets of Atlanta to these memories. Almost.

"No one ever does," I murmured, looking out the window.

Daryl and Carol started offloading their gear, stacking it against the wall and the table. I walked to the door, pausing in the threshold.

"I'll take first watch. You guys should get some rest."

"I'll take the top bunk," Carol offered, a tiny grin on her face. "I know how you like pink Pookie."

I grinned when Daryl rolled his eyes, stopping in front of me.

"This place is locked up tight." I shrugged, looking away. "We're good Red." He took a step closer, taking my hand a as Carol climbed onto the top bunk. "Yur good."

Debatable, but I let him lead me to the bottom bunk. I stopped in front of it, and he raised his eyebrows.

"After you Legolas," I offered, waving my hand at the bunk.

"Nah, go 'head."

"Paper, rock, scissors?"

Clearly, neither of us wanted to let the other be a human shield should the worst walk through the door.

"Just get in will ya?"

He shoved me into the bunk, and I complied because I was tired and we were wasting time that could be spent sleeping. The twin bed was so small I was forced to turn on my side, pressing my back firmly against the wall in order to leave enough room for Daryl's wide frame. He lay down next to me on his back, unfurling an arm as an invitation. He didn't need to ask me twice. I sunk on top of him, his arm going around me. I sighed in content, head nuzzling his neck as he propped his boots up on the metal bed railing. My legs were hanging halfway off the miniature bed. Clearly it was meant for midgets.

"No hanky panky you two," Carol laughed. I kicked the mattress, but that only made her giggle harder.

"Stop," Daryl ordered, but that only made me horny. Bossy Daryl was one of my favorites. "Red."

I propped my head up in my hand at his warning. "Seriously, you're bordering on invasion of privacy at this point with the mind reading."

He shushed me, eyes closed, and I let my head flop down, snuggling into him. I was almost asleep when Carol broke the silence.

"You said we get to start over?" I didn't reply. She wasn't talking to me. I pretended to sleep, giving them at least the illusion of privacy. I felt like a voyeur in the conversation.

Daryl shifted, fingers absently stroking my hair. "Yeah."

"Did you?" Daryl pressed a kiss on top of my head, squeezing me tighter.

"I'm tryin'," he admitted. "Why don't ya say what's really on yur mind?"

Carol was quiet for so long I wasn't sure she was going to reply. "I don't think we get to save people anymore."

I didn't believe that. Even before the end of the world I devoted my life to saving people, my mother, my sister, and eventually complete strangers. I understood having a crisis of faith. I'd had many in my life. I even understood doing the unthinkable and struggling to live with it. Sometimes saving people meant sacrificing others. If we couldn't save anyone, if we didn't try, then what was the point of any of this?

"Then why are ya here?" he asked softly.

"I'm trying."

"When ya were out at the car, what if Red hadn't show up?"

It took enormous willpower to stay still and quiet. Man, pretending to sleep while eavesdropping was exhausting.

"I still don't know," she admitted, but I didn't believe that either.

She didn't give herself enough credit. She wouldn't have run. Well, not far because I would have tracked her ass down, and drug her back by her hair if needed. That's what friends do.

In the silence after Carol's admission I felt myself drifting off. Daryl's warmth combined with the soft mattress was enough pull me into a REM cycle in record time. In the military you learned to sleep anywhere, at any time, under any circumstance. If you didn't learn this particular skill you risked never sleeping. I had no trouble, and was halfway to a wondrous sex dream involving me, Daryl and some whip cream when something banged against an outer door.

"Not it," I remarked drowsily, no intention of moving. Unfortunately my husband had exactly the opposite intention. He was up and grabbing his crossbow in seconds. I opened my eyes, rubbing away sleep. "How do you move so fast?"

His only answer was a sly grin. I sighed dreamily, cocking my head to the side and admiring him. He was so freakin' hot it was difficult to comprehend at times. Carol stood in front of my bunk, weapon in hand, mom face firmly in place. I groaned, making a show of dropping my boots to the floor one after the other. Ignoring the way she impatiently tapped her rifle.

"Don't gimme that look," she chided. She better stop talking or I'd give her a lot more than a look. "Someone's cranky."

I paused, turning to look at her. "Don't start something you can't finish."

Her only response was a shit-eating grin. What the hell? People used to be scared to death of me and now, nothing.

I followed Daryl into a dark hallway with my PPQ in one hand, and a knife in the other. This place reminded me a little too much of Freddy Krueger's house. The creepy factor was off the charts.

We made our way to the end of the hall like we were staring in our own horror flick. Guaranteed there was something on the other side of that door that was going to try and kill us. When we rounded a corner my heart skipped a beat. I could see the outline of a walker through an opaque door, could hear her growling, but the tiny shadow that followed close behind a second later made my eyes water. Carol made a move for the door, but Daryl's hand stopped her.

"You don't have to," he insisted, but she didn't look like she heard him. Either that or she simply didn't care. She reached for the door again. "You don't."

With a frustrated huff she turned on her heel, stalking back to the bedroom without a backwards glance. I sighed, head down, listening to the mother and child groaning.

"Let it go Red."

"They deserve better."

"They always do."

He walked grabbed my hand and led me away. This time when we all settled in to rest no one said a word. Daryl and I resumed our previous position while Carol climbed to the top bunk. I draped myself over my husband, thankful for my ability to sleep in the blink of an eye. My eyes got heavier and heavier until I blinked again and they stayed closed. The last thing I heard was the faint sounds of clawing.

The next thing I knew the sun was shining across my face and I grumbled, turning my head further into Daryl's body in an effort to block it out. He moved next to me, his breathing changing from steady and even to alert in an instant signaling he was awake.

"Make it go away," I pleaded, burying my face in the space between his shoulder and head.

"Don't work like that Red."

"This is part of your vows," I complained, "Sickness and health, richer or poorer, finding a way to block out the sun. Now snap to it Hanna."

He said nothing, but sat up abruptly and just like that I lost my pillow. "Can't say I 'member that part."

"You don't remember any of the good stuff," I mumbled, face buried in the pillow.

He stood, grabbing his crossbow before striding out. "Gonna check the doors."

"Whatever."

Roughly half an hour later Carol stirred above me, sitting up and hanging her legs over the side of the bunk. "Morning."

"Whatever." I hated morning people.

"What is that?" she asked, jumping off the bunk and walking to the window.

I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands, and trying to ignore the funky taste in my mouth. Man I hope I packed a toothbrush. I walked to the window, frowning when I saw black smoke billowing into the air. The two went to an office where we had an unobstructed view to the roof.

There was a smoking pile of ashes, a fire still raging, with Daryl standing solemnly next to it. I saw two burned bodies consumed by the red-hot flames, one much larger than the other, and tears welled in my eyes. Carol put her arm around my shoulder, her own eyes filled with tears. It was the mother and child. Daryl went back and gave them the peace we both wanted for them. We went outside, the two of us stopping on either side of him, watching what was left of the fire die out.

"Thank you," Carol said after a few moments. She didn't wait for him to reply before going back inside.

I placed a hands on his shoulder and turned him to face me. "You're a good man Daryl Dixon."

I leaned into him, brushing my lips against his. His lips glided against mine, his tongue tracing the line of my lower lip and making my entire body tingle. I moaned and he pulled me closer as my arms went around his neck and I balanced on the tips of toes, our kiss deepening. He nibbled on my lower lip and I felt dizzy. I concentrated on the taste of him. The feel of his muscles underneath my hands. The sound of his labored breathing. Heat pooled in my stomach, an aching need I knew we didn't have time to deal with at the moment. We pulled apart at the same time, staying locked in each other's arms, foreheads touching. I pressed a kiss against each corner of his mouth.

"I love you," I confessed, the pressure in my chest intensifying.

He smiled shyly, kissing my nose in the sweetest gesture known to man. "Love ya Red."

We made our way back to the room packing up the rest of our belongings.

"That car was headed downtown," Daryl stated.

I smiled bright, bouncing up-and-down on the balls of my feet. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Carol looked confused. Daryl looked skeptical.

"Don't see any other way," he conceded, but didn't look happy about it.

"Yes," I said with a slight fist pump.

"What am I missing?" Carol looked between us, still not understanding.

"Its roof time baby," I sing-songed, moon-walking out of the room.

"That…" she trailed off, eyes wide.

"Is awesome, exciting, gonna be the best part of our day," I supplied.

"Doesn't seem safe," she finished. Some people had no vision.

"We get up on one of the tall one's get ourselves a view. We see what we see."

"We can stay close to the buildings and keep quiet, but sooner or later, we're gonna draw them," Carol said.

Atlanta in the daylight hours hurt to look at. The once bustling streets were now desolate. Wind blew trash across the streets bouncing off abandoned cars and burnt out military vehicles. This city housed upwards of 500,000 people before the turn, but now it was a ghost town. A ghost town ruled by the dead. Basically, it was the stuff of nightmares.

We ran along the sidewalk approaching a crossroad where we would no longer have the cover of buildings. Daryl peeked around the building, a determined look on his face.

"All right, we can get up there." He nodded at a building. "There's a bridge."

"How?" Carol whispered.

The loud snarls on the other side of the building made it abundantly clear we weren't going to be able to fight our way through. Daryl took off his bag, rifling through it until he found a pad of paper he ganked from the room. When he pulled a lighter from his back pocket, and I grinned.

"Good call babe."

He gave me a cocky smile, the pad engulfed in flames. He tossed it into the square and the walkers immediately started shuffling towards it. We easily slipped around the corner, the copious amounts of trash on the street acting as lighter fluid, the fire growing and attracting more walkers. We ran into a parking garage, Daryl putting an arrow in the head of a lone walker.

A set of stairs later we were at the skybridge, but paused at the crossover. It wasn't a bridge, not anymore. It was a makeshift camp complete with tents, clothes on drying lines, and walkers trapped in zipped up sleeping bags. Without a word we broke up, each taking a set of walkers and putting them down. When one started pushing against a tent, growling in agitation at its confinement I shook my head.

"Some days I don't know what to think," Daryl said to himself as I stepped forward and retrieved his arrow, tossing it to him.

The walker thrashed inside the tent causing it to fall over. We kept our backs to the wall and skirted him, his aggression too much to risk in such close quarters. I'd just cleared the tent when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I whirled around, knife raised to strike, but there was nothing there. I squinted through the dirt stained windows of the skybridge, trying to locate the source of my discomfort, but again found nothing.

"What is it?" Daryl asked, double back to stand beside me.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Something doesn't feel right." He cocked an eyebrow at me as if to say explain. "We're being watched."

His body tensed automatically. The last time I said that the entire prison dismissed my fears as irrational paranoia, and we paid dearly for it. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He nodded at me curtly, ushering me in front of him then checking behind us one more time. The doors at the end of the bridge were chained together with a combination lock I couldn't pick so Daryl held the door wide allowing Carol and me to climb through. I took his crossbow from him once I was on the other side, sighing heavily while I watched him squirm and wiggle in an attempt to fold his massive, muscular frame through the small opening. Square peg in a round hole came to mind.

"Good thing we skipped breakfast," he said, finally pulling his tall frame through.

"Speak for yourself Jenny Craig," I grumbled. I was starving.

Carol winked at me, both of us ignoring Daryl's glare of annoyance. We carefully made our way to an office building that was relatively untouched by the world. I stood in front of a big picture window, staring down at the disaster that was downtown Atlanta. I'd seen the same thing many times before, but never in the United States. It reminded me of Iraq, Afghanistan, and every other battle-scarred country I'd spend time in.

"How did we get here?" Carol mused, taking in the damage.

"We've always been here." Daryl and Carol turned to look at me, but I kept my eyes on the city, placing my palms flat against the window. "This is nothing new. It just hurts more because it's in our backyard this time."

Carol shifted her weight. "Neither of you ever asked what happened after I met up with Tyreese."

I let my forehead thump against the window, my breath fogging up the glass briefly before I closed my eyes. I hadn't asked because I didn't want to know the details. I heard from Daryl she met up with Tyreese who was with the Lizzie and Mika a short time after the prison fell. It didn't take a lot of detective work to know how _that_ turned out. Carol and Tyreese were with us. The girls weren't.

I knew better than most Lizzie was fucked up beyond repair. She named walkers, talked to them like they were pets, and was adamant they were still human. It'd almost killed us both in cellblock A during the outbreak. She was never going to make it in this world. I tried not to think about Mika the same way I tried not to think about Molly.

"I know what happened. They ain't here," Daryl replied, echoing my thoughts.

"It was worse than that."

I turned, putting a hand on either of her shoulders. "Sometimes you have to accept that things will never go back to the way they were."

I pulled her in for a hug. I felt her hands curl into my shirt, tears wetting my shoulder. I wasn't talking about the world or walkers. I was talking about us. Carol was struggling because of what she'd done. Some choices were out of her control, like Lizzie and Mika. The world had forced her hand in that regard. Other choices, like Karen and David, she made because fear blinded her to alternatives. Either way it didn't matter. The old Carol was gone just like the old world was gone.

"The reason I said we get to start over is cause we gotta."

I released her and she wiped away a tear. She nodded at Daryl who pulled her in for an awkward yet endearing hug. So far this trip was full of feels. It was making my temperamental third eye twitch. Speaking of eyes, something caught mine and I squinted, trying to make out what I saw in the distance.

"Ya see somethin'?"

"I don't know," I said, holding out my hand. "Gimme the rifle."

Carol handed it to me and I adjusted the sight, looking through the scope. In the distance was a white panel van with two white crosses taped in the back windows.

"Right there," I pointed, handing Daryl the rifle.

"Definitely one of those bastards," he snarled, letting Carol take a look.

"It's been there a while."

"We don't have anything else to go on," I said.

"It's a lead," Daryl agareed, his face murderous. These guys were in trouble with a capital T when we found them.

"We should fill up."

Carol was already at the water cooler topping off our canteens and water bottles.

I crossed my arms over my chest looking around in disappointment. "I'd just like to point out this isn't actually a roof."

"High enough Red."

I sighed, "If I don't find one and I do mean soon it's gonna end my streak." He hummed, distracted, eyeing a painting on the wall with his head cocked to the side. "Like it?"

He scoffed, "I bet this cost some rich prick a lot of money."

"It reminds me of that time Nugget knocked over a bucket of paint at the prison and rolled around on the floor."

I smiled at the memory.

Daryl stepped forward, waving his hands dramatically across the canvass. "It looks like a dog sat in paint, and wiped its ass all over the place."

"Or that," I nodded.

"I kinda like it." Our heads snapped to Carol who was smiling up at the painting.

"Stop," Daryl huffed, not taking her seriously.

"I'm serious."

"Really?" I asked, scratching my head, trying to see the appeal.

"Y'all don't know me."

I snorted, "Sure thing."

"Keep tellin' yurself that."

I held my fist out to Daryl and he eyed it for a beat.

"Come on, you know you want to." He rolled his eyes, but bumped his fist against mine and I smiled, pulling my fist back and spreading my fingers wide, making an explosion noise. He frowned at me. "Lesson two, _blowin' it up_."

He shook his head and followed Carol out of the room. We made our way back to the skybridge, both of us propping the door open for Carol before I followed. In a split second everything changed.

"Alex, don't."

Carol stood frozen, hands raised, a man holding her rifle. Well, man was a bit of a stretch. He was more like a boy-man, caught in that awkward stage between a child and a man. Not that it mattered. He had her weapon, and was pointing it at both of us. Well, shit. I stood up slowly, keeping my body in front of the door, effectively blocking any shot the man had at Daryl.

"Give me your weapon," he demanded, looking directly at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Make me."

His eyes went wide, his weight shifting from side-to-side. He was nervous, fidgety, which meant he was most likely inexperienced and slow to violence. My playful demeanor from only seconds ago evaporated like morning due, and he couldn't hold my thunderous gaze. He hesitated, unsure what to do. He decided to turn the weapon solely on Carol, and my very tenuous control damn near shattered.

"Put your weapons on the ground or I'll shoot her!"

"Shoot her and you die," I promised.

"Red," Daryl growled, pushing on the door, but I didn't budge, unwilling to let him into the line of fire.

I should have known he wouldn't care, pushing his way onto the skybridge despite my best efforts to stop him. He stood next to me, a stony glare directed at the boy-man. This dude picked the wrong group to steal from.

"Tell her to put down her weapons and you do the same!"

His finger was wrapped around the trigger, the barrel pointed directly at Carol's chest. In the time it would take me to draw my PPQ and get off a shot he could easily squeeze the trigger and end her life.

"You got some sack on ya," Daryl hissed.

"No one has to get hurt," the boy-man said, "I just want weapons. That's it. So please, put down your weapons."

Well, at least he said please, but he was wrong about one thing. This wouldn't end with no one getting hurt.

"Go on Red."

Daryl indignantly put his crossbow on the ground while I carefully drew my PPQ following suit. I still had about 10,000 knives strapped to my body he either didn't notice, didn't want, or didn't think I could use.

"Back up," he ordered. He stepped forward, retrieving both our weapons. My body shook with barely contained rage. I _did not_ like people touching my shit. "Sorry about this. You guys look tough. You'll be alright."

Oh I knew we would. He, however, wouldn't be able to the say the same thing when I tracked him down and beat him to death.

He walked backwards, drawing a knife and cutting a hole in the tents as he passed. The walkers popped out like dead Jack-In-The-Boxes. Daryl lunged forward stabbing the first one while I drew and knife and threw it at the second. Carol had her backup weapon out and aimed at the boy-man, but Daryl knocked her hand down at the last second causing the shot to go wide. I was already running after the little shit, but he scrambled out a door before I could catch him, locking it on the opposite side.

"I really am sorry," he apologized, his voice muffled by the door.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be when I kick your ass!"

His retreating footsteps were my only answer, and I kicked the door in frustration. Daryl led us back through the building, trying to find another way out. Carol continued to plead her case that she wasn't actually trying to kill the boy-man. Her argument was a little thin in my estimation. Coming from someone like me there were giant, gaping holes.

"I was aiming for his leg. Could that have killed him? Maybe, I don't know, but he was stealing our weapons."

Daryl scowled at her. "He's just a damn kid."

"Without weapons we could die," she tried again, looking at me to back her up. She better keep looking. There was no fucking way I was touching this one. " _Beth_ could die."

"Wow," I marveled with a sad shake of my head.

"What?"

"Low blow and you know it."

Taking the focus off her mistake in order to put it back on the one Daryl held himself responsible for was bullshit, and I wouldn't stand for it.

"We'll find more weapons," Daryl insisted, not taking the bait as he tried to jimmy the door.

"Move." I pushed him aside, kneeling down to manipulate the lock.

"I don't want either of you to die." Carol didn't know when to let a napping dog sleep. "I don't want Beth to die. I don't want anyone at the church to die, but I can't stand around and let it happen either. I can't. That's why I left. I just had to be…somewhere else."

"Well ya ain't somewhere else!" Daryl yelled, getting in her face. Of all the times for a lock to fight me it had to be now. I needed to get out of here. This fight was bound to go nuclear at any moment. "You're right here! Tryin'!"

"Look, you're not who you were and neither am I." The two friends squared off, oblivious to me or the now open door. "I don't know if I believe in God anymore, or heaven, but if I'm going to hell, I'm making damn sure I'm holding it off as long as I can."

She snatched his bag off the ground, and in her haste the contents spilled out. Her face went slack when she saw the book on childhood abuse at the top of the pile. I looked away while my husband bent down and plucked it up. What a messed up trio we made, all victims of abuse, all survivors, all irrevocably fucked up. Daryl brushed passed me through the door and I gave Carol a scathing look.

"I'm…sorry," she stuttered.

"You're apologizing to the wrong person."

It took the better part of an hour to make it to the bridge with the white van. A trail of walkers followed behind us, but at this point I was more worried about us killing each other. When we got closer I saw the van was hanging precariously over the edge of the bridge, a section of guard rail missing where it crashed. Well, this was gonna suck.

"Alright, let's get this done," he insisted, opening the back door. He took a step forward, but my hand on his arm stopped him.

"Hold up Weight Watchers. You could barely squeeze through the skybridge door, and now you're gonna jump in the back of a van posing as a seesaw?"

"Ya callin' me fat?"

"Fatter than me, yeah, I am."

His lips pressed into a hard line, but there was no denying my logic. "Why's it always gotta be you?"

"Well, this time because it's gotta be me because I don't weight as much as a house," I smiled, throwing him a playful wink that helped relieve some of the tension in his body.

He hopped into the back of the truck acting as a counterweight while I climbed over him, moving to the front. The addition of my weight made the van tip forward and I sucked in air through my clenched teeth, steadying myself using the roof. I climbed into the front seat, pulling papers from the visor, checking under the seats, and tossing paper out of the center console looking for any clues.

"They're getting too close," Carol screeched. I looked out the windows in time to see a sizeable group of walkers closing in on us from both sides. "We're gonna have to fight through."

"I see 'em," Daryl agreed sliding forward so he could flip over a stretcher. "GMH, what's that? A hospital?"

"Uh, Grady Memorial maybe?" Carol answered distractedly, turning to face the oncoming herd.

"Grady, the white crosses- it might be where they're holin' up."

I was halfway out of the seat when Carol screamed, "Daryl!"

The two gunshots that followed sealed the deal. We couldn't stay here, and the herd was too large for three people to handle.

"Get in!" I screamed.

"Go, go, go!" he urged, helping Carol into the van as I grabbed her hand and yanked her forward.

"Daryl!" I yelled, panic clawing at my throat.

He jumped in the back, using the top of the car to kick a walker before quickly slamming the doors closed.

"Is there anything we can use?"

Carol's voice was on the verge of hysteria. I stepped over both of them, getting back in the driver's seat. There was only one play here, and they weren't going to like it.

"Daryl get in the passenger seat," I ordered, "Carol, get in his lap. Put the seatbelt around you both."

"Put the seatbelt on?" she repeated, not moving.

"Unless you'd rather swan dive," I replied, my seatbelt already on.

Daryl didn't wait for her to comply. He tossed her in the seat, following close behind. They sat side-by-side with her half in his lap, the seatbelt securely around them both. The van pitched forward precariously, the sound of walkers outside growing steadily. Our combined weight in the front plus the walkers pushing on the back was quickly upending the van. The van rocked forward and my stomach rolled, but somehow we managed to stay upright. Carol cried, burying her head on Daryl's shoulder whose eyes were wide, arms braced above him.

"Try to keep your body loose," I yelled over the sound of the walkers, and the groaning of metal. "Don't extend your arms or the airbag could break bones."

"Oh my god!" Carol screamed when the van lurched forward.

We were perched on the edge of the bride, staring directly at the ground below. I glanced to my right, my eyes meeting Daryl who reached for my hand, and we locked our fingers. Something crashed into the back of the van, the awful sound of scraping metal against concrete drowning out the sound of Carol's crying.

"This is it!" Daryl yelled.

"Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position!"

"How can you joke at a time like this?!" Carol screamed.

I never got the chance to answer because the van finally fell, a feeling of weightlessness overwhelming me and forcing met to slam my eyes shut to combat the nausea. We tumbled end-over-end, my body pushed forward, the seatbelt digging into my chest only to be slammed back into the seat by the force of our fall. I tried to ready myself to the inevitable impact, but was too disoriented to know when it might come. We hit the ground unexpectedly with an ear-shattering crunch, the van compressing from the velocity of our fall. I opened one eye experimentally, then another, groaning slightly when I moved my neck and felt a slight twinge. Well, at least we landed upright.

"Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign."

Carol laughed, sagging against Daryl. "We're alright."

Debatable, but we weren't dead so I'd count that as a win. A walker crashed against the shattered windshield making us all jump. His body exploded on impact causing blood to ooze down the glass .

"Yuck," I gagged, looking away. The sounds of walkers falling on the van continued and so did the ever increasing blood trail. "Oh man."

"Ya gonna puke?"

I swallowed down bile, trying not to look at the brain fragments on the windshield. "It's hard to say at this point."

I had to kick the door several times before I got it open wide enough to fall out. My body felt like it had been hit with a baseball bat which probably had something to do with falling off a bridge.

I heard similar moans of pain from Carol who was clutching her right shoulder. I nodded at the bag in Daryl's hand and he handed it to me so he could support her. We stopped three blocks from the hospital to let her rest. Her shoulder looked like shit, but she insisted she'd had worse which didn't make me feel better.

"Damn that was stupid," Daryl marveled, sitting down beside her.

"Weren't a lot of other options." I scanned the alley while we waited.

Carol smiled, "We made good time down."

I held my fist out and she bumped it before we both pulled back, opening our hands and blowin' it up.

"Jesus," Daryl groaned, annoyed we were both cooler than him. "We need to find a place nearby, scope it out, and see what we can see."

Someday I was going to have him explain the finer points of _"see what we can see"_.

"You really think we're going to find out what we need to know just by watching?" Carol questioned.

"It's where we start," he assured her.

"Alex?"

I nodded in agreement. "Step one, watch. Step two, blow shit up."

"Do you have explosives?"

I laughed, but pulled myself together when she didn't join in. "Sorry, were you serious?" I saw 10 things in this alley alone I could use to make a bomb.

Daryl snorted, "Come on."

We took shelter inside a building and got lucky finding some weapons the dead people they belonged to no longer needed. Carol looked out the window at the hospital.

"It's them."

"Alright," Daryl agreed, handing her a bag of popcorn. "Let's see what we see." He held out another bag for me. "What?"

"What about you?"

He shrugged, "I'm good."

"Share?"

I posed it like a question only because it would be easier to get him to agree. Forcing Daryl to do anything was a fool's errand.

I sat against one side of the window with Daryl in the middle. We passed our small bag of popcorn back-and-forth, keeping a watchful eye on the hospital. I could practically feel Carol's need to fill the silence. She had some things she needed to get off her chest.

"Me and Sophia stayed at that shelter for a day and a half before I went running back to Ed. I went home, I got beat up, life went on, and I just kept praying for something to happen."

I stared at her, but I didn't see my friend. I saw my mother. I never got the chance to ask her why she did the things she did, or better yet, why she did nothing at all? Hearing Carol talk about it was like a window into my past. Just like her this was my second chance to put demons to rest once and for all.

"But I didn't do anything. Not a damn thing." The self-loathing in her voice was palpable and I had to look away. "Who I was with him…she got burned away, and I was happy about that. I mean, not _happy_ , but at the prison I got to be who I always thought I should be, thought I should've been…and then _she_ got burned away. Everything now just…consumes you."

Words failed me. I didn't know how to comfort her. The part of me that was still a little girl locked in a closet heard nothing but excuses. Now, as an adult, things were less black and white and more shades of gray. The good, the bad, the right, the wrong, they was harder to find.

Carol thought she failed as a woman and as a mother. Maybe she had, but if I'd learned one thing in life it was you couldn't look at things through a keyhole. She couldn't stand the person she'd been because of who she was now. That was like comparing apples to oranges. The person who stayed with Ed wasn't the woman sitting with us today. It wasn't her fault her husband beat her. It was his and his alone.

"Hey," Daryl said quietly, her eyes sliding to him. "We ain't ashes."

A door closed somewhere down the hall and I pushed off the ledge, knives in my hands. At the end of the hallway we found a walker with an arrow protruding from its throat, one of Daryl's arrows.

"One of yours?" Carol asked.

"Yeah."

He sliced the walkers head in two with his newfound machete yanking out his arrow. The sound of automatic gunfire around the corner made me take off, coming face-to-face with the boy-man who was facing off with a walker. He tossed the walker at me, but I dodged the body and it hit Carol. She yelped in surprise, falling to the ground, her bum shoulder causing her to cry out in pain. I took off after the boy-man, confident Daryl could handle the walker and Carol. I was getting our shit back, or I was going to die trying.

I followed him through a maze of office cubicles, his eyes darting over his shoulder every so often to see if I was still there. If he thought a few office chairs and a stapler thrown at my head were going to deter me he was delusional. He'd have better luck finding a pot of gold at the end of a freakin' rainbow.

I cornered him in a room where the only exit was blocked by a massive bookshelf. I lunged at him from behind, dropping down and swinging my leg out. He screamed in surprise, my legs connecting with his calves causing his body to crash to the ground. He tried to right his footing at the last minute, reaching for the bookshelf which was a bad idea. I rolled out to the way, springing to my feet just as it fell on top of him.

Daryl stalked forward, picking up his prized weapon while I squatted down beside the bookcase looking the boy-man up-and-down searching for mine. I found it still tucked in the waistband of his jeans. I smacked his hand away when he tried to keep me from taking it.

"Please!" he pleaded, trying and failing to move the heavy furniture atop him. "Please, I had to protect myself!"

"Why ya followin' us?" Daryl snarled.

"I…I didn't! I thought you followed me!"

"Bullshit."

Daryl wasn't in the mood for games, and I couldn't blame him. Touching the crossbow was an offensive punishable by death in the apocalypse. Everybody knew that. Carol retrieved her weapon while Daryl grabbed a pack of smokes from a carton left behind on an overturned desk, ignoring the walkers clawing to get through the now unblocked door.

"Come on man," the kid pleaded, his voice getting desperate. "Please, please…ahhh…please!"

"Nah, I helped you once." Daryl put a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it. "Ain't happenin' again." He took a slow drag. "Have fun with Hoss over there."

I exhaled harshly. This wasn't Daryl. He wasn't _that_ guy. He was compassionate and forgiving, not ruthless and cold. If he left this kid to die he'd regret it. He walked away without further comment, ignoring the kid's screams for help, for mercy.

"Daryl," I said softly, but he heard me. "We can't leave him."

In two long strides he was in my face, and he looked pissed. "Ya almost died cause of him!" he yelled, "Carol almost died!"

I took a deep breath. "But we didn't." His face was ablaze with fury, eyes flicked from me to Carol and finally the kid. "This isn't us," I pleaded, repeating the phrase he'd once told Rick.

His eyes drifted over the bruises on my face and the blood on my shirt. I knew the moment his eyes hardened what his answer would be.

"Nah, let him be."

My lips trembled, and I fought back tears as I watched him leave. It felt like I was losing the man I loved. I turned to the kid just as the walker finally pushed his way through the door.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," he pleaded, leaning away from the the walker that would end his life.

I walked forward with a heavy heart, readying my knife to kill the walker, but I never got the chance. An arrow sailed by, impaling the walker in the side of the head. I glanced over my shoulder, a single tear trailing down my face as I smiled at him. He swallowed hard, nodding. I pulled the walker off the shelf, tossing it aside while we all worked together to free the boy-man.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he repeated over-and-over before stumbling to a window.

Daryl walked up to me, placing a hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing away any trace of the tear. "Ya OK?"

"I am now," I assured him, leaning into his touch.

"I gotta go. I gotta go." He was rambling, frantic, eyes going every direction. "They're gonna come. They probably heard the shot. If they find me…"

"Easy there Manchurian Candidate," I chided, his nonsensical rant giving me a headache.

"I gotta go. I gotta go. I gotta go."

If he didn't shut up I was putting him back under the bookshelf.

"Someone's looking for you?" Carol inquired, moving to his side. His head bobbed up-and-down, but at least he wasn't stuck on repeat. "Who?"

"Them," he answered, moving to the door. "The people at the hospital."

Daryl and I moved as a unit, blocking his path. "Wait, wait, wait, just tell us, is there a blonde girl there? Ya see a blonde girl?"

"Beth?"

I froze, my shock plain on my face. "You know her?"

"She…she helped me get out, but she's still there."

"They're coming," Carol announced, eyes on something outside.

"We gotta go. We gotta go. We gotta go." We followed the kid because he seemed to have a destination in mind. "The building next door has a basement. It's clear. We'll be safe."

Daryl glanced at me and I bit my lip. We were trusting a kid who only moments ago was trying to kill us. The boy-man was moving slow, limping heavily due to a mangled ankle. When he tried to run he cried out in pain, falling to the ground in a heap. Carol and Daryl stopped each taking an arm to help him up.

"Go, we got him," Daryl insisted so I continued, running out the exit.

The sound of squealing tires made me turn my head sharply. My eyes were wide with horror when I realized the car bearing down on me wasn't slowing down, in fact, it was speeding up. There was no time to move, no way to avoid the hit.

A split second before the front bumper slammed into my legs I leapt in the air, turning sideways and tucking myself into a ball, curling my arms around my head in an effort to protect myself. My back collided with the windshield with a sickening crunch, the volume of the impact increased by the utter silence surrounding me. My bones, muscles, joints, and organs felt like they were being crumpled like a paper bag. My lungs constricted with such force I was sure they would fold into themselves. When my head slammed into the windshield I lost any semblance of motor control, arms and legs flailing wildly as I weakly tried to grab onto something, anything, to stop my momentum.

The world flickered like a light bulb about to go out, my vision coming in brief flashes of blinding light only to be replaced with bitter darkness a second later. The sound of crushed glass and groaning metal told a brutal story of my body traveling up and over the car. Abruptly it all stopped. For the briefest of moments I felt nothing, a weightless feeling just like in the van, but the world snapped back into focus the moment my body impacted the hard concrete with a thump, my body going limp.

Black spots danced in my blurry vision. I longed for the relief I knew unconsciousness would provide. The coppery taste of blood pooled in my mouth, coating my tongue and sliding down the back of my throat. My body didn't hurt, not like it should. Shock, my mind whispered as I struggled to suck in air. It felt like the accident took hours when I knew it was only seconds. It was then I remembered the others.

The buzzing static in my head increased exponentially when I looked at the door, my vision closing to pinholes and stomach swimming with bitterness. I saw the boy-man and Carol struggling to restrain a frantic and hysterical Daryl. He fought their hold like a man possessed, his silent screams never reaching my ears. I opened my mouth to say his name, but nothing came out. I tried to reach for him, a single finger twitching momentarily in response, but he saw it. His struggling ceased instantly. The look on his face could only be described as horrified. A trail of tears streaked down both his cheeks, and I thought I saw him mouth my name, but my vision finally failed me. I tried to take a breath, a tremendous pressure on my chest making the simple, involuntary action torture. I was only able to suck in half as much air as I my burning lungs desperately needed.

I desperately wanted to hear something, anything, other than the silence. It was too loud. I couldn't bear it. The finality of it scared me far more than the pain I knew was coming. I felt it just on the horizon, a tingling sensation building with each passing second, sweeping across every cell in my body. It felt like I was being ripped in two. When I could no longer hold my eyes open I didn't fight it, glad for the relief oblivion offered, but I wondered if they would ever open again.

* * *

 **A lot happening in this chapter and even more in the next. I am both excited and nervous to see how you guys react to everything I have planned.**

 **Did you like this chapter? I felt like it had a good mix of everything humor, action, feels...you get the idea. Would love to hear y'alls thoughts!**


	47. Castles Crumble Overnight

**Castles Crumble Overnight**

Agony was the only thing that told me I was still alive. Dead people didn't feel, and right now, all I felt was agony. I clung to it because I knew as long as I felt pain, felt something, it meant I was still alive. I couldn't open my eyes, and I didn't want to. If it hurt this much while semi-conscious I could only imagine what the real world felt like.

I heard things though, things I didn't understand, things that made my heart spike with fear, and also things that didn't make sense. I heard a voice I knew desperately pleading to not turn off the machines hooked to my body. I heard a stern, unrelenting, female voice deny the request outright. I heard a faint beeping subsequently cease followed closely by the same familiar voice. The soft voice with a slight southern twang reassured me over-and-over that everything would be alright.

"Alex, its Beth." A warm hand slide into my much colder one, and for the first time since the accident I felt something other than. "I just wanted you to know I was here."

Beth.

It _was_ her. She was here, right beside me, holding my hand. My mind screamed at my body to wake up, to move, to do something other than lie here in the midst of our enemies. If she was really here then it meant I was inside the hospital. It also meant we were severely fucked.

"I have your picture," Beth continued, and I felt the bed dip slightly. "They searched you when you came in. Took all your weapons, but I don't worry, I have them. I found the picture in the trash. They don't get it. None of them do. They most important thing you carried wasn't the knives or the guns. It was this."

I loved that picture. I couldn't remember how many times I'd pulled it out in the middle of the night while we were separated. It was my lifeline to him during that awful time when I had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive. She was right. It was the most precious thing I owned, and I would forever be grateful she saved it.

"It's a really great picture." I imagined her smiling, could almost hear it in her voice. "He was so worried about you after the prison. He didn't talk about it much at first, but I could tell."

They'd been together. While I was with Merle he was with Beth. He told me bits and pieces about their time together, but like all of Daryl's stories it was somewhat lacking in details. They got out and were on the run when she was abducted by a car with a white cross painted on the back. He never specifically spoke about the fact that somewhere along the way they became friends, but I saw it. Beth being taken weighed heavy on his heart.

"He didn't say much in the beginning, but he was always looking for you. He left messages carved into trees and logs every time we stopped. His eyes were always searching the woods, looking for clues you were nearby. He never gave up hope of finding you. Not being with you…it nearly killed him."

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this. I knew how much I struggled during our separation. Hearing about his was too much to bear.

"One day, he took me to this house he found with Michonne. We drank moonshine because he said my first drink couldn't be peach schnapps."

Internally I rolled my eyes. Only Daryl would have moonshine tucked away in a safe house in the middle of the freakin' apocalypse. He was, however, right about the peach schnapps. Nasty.

"That night...after a few drinks…he got upset, angry. It was my fault. I pushed him. Maybe I shouldn't have, but he needed to get it out. We both did. That was the first time he talked about you."

I could see it.

The black fog in my mind cleared and instead of an endless sea of nothing I now saw the two of them in the woods, hearts broken, no food, barely any water, ignoring each other as well as their hurt. I could see Daryl struggling to keep them both alive, and Beth struggling to find a reason to let him. I watched Daryl carve ' _A.D. – Go East'_ into a log while they ate _"mud snake"_ in uncomfortable silence. The more she spoke the clearer the picture became until I could see every details as if I was sitting next to them.

It was fascinating, seeing someone you knew so well through another's eyes. To Beth, my husband was the consummate survivor, reliable and steadfast, but hot-headed and closed off. He was an enigma she couldn't figure out with barricaded walls she was at a loss to scale, but despite all that they'd formed a bond in those terrible days after we lost our home.

I understood that. In the days following the attack Merle did more than keep me alive and safe. He kept me sane. I was little more than dead weight the first two days, sick and wounded, but he never wavered. The bond we shared was cemented in blood during that week. It was unbreakable, and up until this point I wasn't sure anyone else would ever understand, but I was wrong. Beth understood because she had the same bond with Daryl. In those woods, fighting each other, fighting walkers, fighting the living, they became more than survivors. They became family.

I listened with wrap attention she was oblivious to as she painted a vivid picture of their time on the road. How scared she was when they were forced to hide in the trunk of a car for a night watching the seemingly never-ending trail of walkers pass by. Her frustration and hurt when all attempts at conversation with Daryl were met with stubborn silence. The heartbreak she endured in silence for the father she saw murdered. I soaked in every detail like a sponge. She was an excellent storyteller, but I already knew that. She had Nugget on the edge of her seat at bedtime, and I was no different.

Her voice cracked, and she took a deep shaky breath, explaining the fallout that took place in a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere over a bottle of moonshine.

 _I knew the moment the question left my lips I'd made a mistake, gone too far, but there was no way to pull it back. His face transformed into a murderous scowl I'd never seen directed at anyone but the enemy, and I stiffened. It wasn't the anger that scared me. It was something else, something deeper. It looked a lot like grief, and I knew all about grief._

 _He paced back-and-forth across the tiny room, seething. I stayed still and waited, unsure how to navigate the situation I created. Ironic, here I was, yet again in a situation I was hilariously unprepared to handle. Idly I wondered if I would ever feel equipped to survive in this world. There was still so much I didn't understand, couldn't understand, and sometimes, like now, it felt like I never would._

 _"I've never…never eaten frozen yogurt!" he yelled, bringing me back to the present. "Never had a pet pony! Never got nothin' from Santa Claus!" He shoved a chair out of the way, his voice getting louder and louder. "Never relied on anyone for protection b'fore. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anythin'!"_

 _"Daryl," I tried, but he was too far gone._

 _"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything' was fun! Like everythin' was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention!"_

 _I knew he was upset, and later I'd have no idea where I found the courage to stand up to him. I stood on shaky legs, taking a deep breath and straightening my spine. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face like my defiance amused him._

 _"You said you never relied on anyone before?" He waved his hand at me, dismissing me before I even had the chance to finish. "What about Alex?"_

 _He froze with his back to me, his body that only seconds ago was uncharacteristically uncoordinated from the alcohol going rigid in the blink of an eye. I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat, realizing a little too late there was no coming back from this. It seemed I was good at that, crossing lines._

 _"What did ya say?" he snarled, turning to face me slowly, eyes blazing._

 _"I said…" I tried to stand still under his penetrating gaze. My hands shook, and I felt sweat rolling down my back. "What about your wife?"_

 _He closed the distance between us in one large stride, a threatening finger in my face. He crouched down to my level, the look on his face so deadly it stole the air from my lungs._

 _"Don't ever say her name, ya hear me?"_

 _He phrased it like a questions, but it was a threat, plain and simple._

 _"Why don't you talk about her?" He stood to his full height, towering over me, body visibly shaking from fury. "You said you never relied on anyone for anything, but that's not true, is it? With her…everything is different."_

 _He recoiled like I'd struck him, face paling. I was almost thankful when a walker pounded on the outside of the decrepit shack, anything to suck some of the unbearable tension out of the room. He looked relieved there was something to focus on other than me, other than my question, other than his wife._

 _"Sounds like our friend out there is tryin' to call all his buddies."_

 _"Daryl, just shut up," I hissed. He turned and pointed at me, ignoring my warning._

 _"Hey, ya never shot a crossbow b'fore?" I shook my head no. He stomped over, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the door. "I'm gonna teach ya right now. Come on. It's gonna be fun."_

 _"We should stay inside. Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!"_

 _He completely ignored me, pulling me out of the shack as he searched the surrounding area for the lone walker. I'd never seen him like this, and it scared me. Sure, I'd seen him mad plenty of times, even stood awkwardly off to the side while he screamed and yelled, but this was not even remotely the same. There was one glaring difference between those times and what was happening now. Alex wasn't here. She was normally the person he was screaming at, and conversely she was the only person who could handle him when he was like this._

 _"Dumbass. Come here, dumbass."_

 _He fired an arrow, the razor sharp projectile piercing the body of the walker, and pinning it to a tree through its chest._

 _"Daryl," I tried again, but it was like I wasn't here._

 _His eyes were unfocused and hazy, his movements jerky and erratic. The man beside me wasn't the steady, poised hunter I knew. The man in the middle of the woods screaming at me, and taunting a walker was a husband distraught over his missing wife. A friend mourning those he couldn't save. He was a stranger._

 _"Ya wanna shoot?"_

 _"I…I don't know how," I stuttered._

 _"Oh, it's easy. Come here." He wrapped an arm around me, releasing an arrow that embedded itself in the walker's leg. "Right corner."_

 _"Let's practice later," I insisted, regretting the decision to offer him a drink, to play the stupid game, to try and help ease his pain._

 _"Come on, it's fun."_

 _"Just stop it. Daryl!"_

 _He wrapped his arm around my neck, lining up the shot. "Come here. Eight ball!"_

 _Another arrow fired, another missed shot. He was doing it on purpose, and it pissed me off. In all the time I'd known him I'd never seen him miss, ever._

 _"Just kill it!"_

 _"Come here Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a lil' more target practice." He swayed on his feet, and I hit my limit. I grabbed my knife, darting around him and sinking the blade into his skull. "What the hell ya do that for? I was havin' fun."_

 _That was the problem_

 _"No, you were being a jackass. If anyone found my dad…"_

 _He cut me off with a cold look. "Don't. That ain't remotely the same."_

 _"Killing them is not supposed to be fun!" I fired back, getting in his face._

 _He took a huge step forward, forcing me back. "What do ya want from me girl?!"_

 _"I want you to you stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything! Like nothing we went through matters. Like…" Tears pooled in my eyes, memories threatening to swallow me whole. "Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!"_

 _"Is that what ya think?" His voice was different now, more distant._

 _"That's what I know."_

 _"Ya don't know nothin'," he spit, "Ya ain't got no idea what it's like…"_

 _"To lose someone you love?" I taunted, tears rolling down my face. "I do and you know it. I know you miss Alex, and I'm sorry I'm here and she's not, but stop looking at me like I'm just another dead girl!" His face blanched at her name, but I kept going. "I'm not like her! I'm not like Alex. I'm not like any of them, but I survived and you don't get it because I'm not like them or you." He stayed quiet, eyes haunted while he absorbed my scolding. "But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid!"_

 _He scoffed, leaning towards me with a vicious look on his dirty face. "I ain't afraid of nothin'."_

 _"Yes you are," I countered, in too deep to stop now. I was vaguely aware this might be the bravest thing I'd ever done, standing up to him, and the thought gave me the courage I needed to continue. "You're scared that Alex is dead, that you won't ever see her again." He turned his back on me, head bowed. "You love her and you're afraid she's gone so you're shutting down because it hurts. You let someone get close and now you don't know what to do without them."_

 _"Too close, huh?" he rounded on me, smiling with ill-intent. "Ya know all 'bout that. Ya lost two boyfriends and can't even shed a tear! Yur whole family's gone, and all ya can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!"_

 _I ignored the tears in his eyes, too mad to acknowledge his hurt. I didn't know why we were purposely doing this to each other, but I was helpless to stop._

 _"Screw you! You don't get it!"_

 _"No, ya don't get it!" His face was red with anger, but it was the sorrow that resonated with me. "Everyone we know is dead!"_

 _"You don't know that!"_

 _"Might as well be cause ya ain't never gonna see 'em again." I sniffled, but he continued. "Red." His voice broke and so did a piece of my heart. "Ya ain't never gonna see Maggie again."_

 _"Daryl, just stop," I cried._

 _"No!" He pivoted on his heel, turning his back on me again, shoulders hunched. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates." He was breathing hard, drowning in self-loathing. "Maybe if I…if I wouldn't have stopped lookin'. Maybe cause I gave up…that's on me."_

 _"Daryl." I put a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off._

 _"And yur dad." His voice was wobbly, emotions choking him. "Red was sick. She almost died just a few days ago and..." He leaned forward at the waist, hands braced on his knees, struggling through misery I was at a loss to comprehend. "I promised her…I swore I'd…The last time I saw her she was runnin' down the alley." I took a hesitant step forward as he stood to his full height, wrapping my arms around his waist. His body shuttered and I squeezed him tighter, my arms the only thing holding him together. "It was right b'fore the tank fired and…goddamn it."_

" _Shhh," I whispered, pressing my head in-between his shoulder blades._

 _I could feel his body shaking as I held him. He didn't try to hide his tears, my arms around his body never wavering as we grieved our losses._

 _My father. His brother. Our friends. His wife._

 _I understood the hollowness he felt because I felt it back at the farm, after my mom. I felt it when I watched The Governor kill my father. I felt it now every time I thought of Maggie. Daryl was wrong before, I didn't cut my wrist for attention. I did it to feel something. The loss, the emptiness coursing through me after watching my mom walk out of the barn was suffocating. I was a shell holding nothing but a thousand oceans of tears. I didn't feel sadness or pain. I didn't feel anything at all. That was the scariest part. Without the fear, the pain, the sadness, it was like I didn't exist._

 _I don't know how long we stood there, lost in a never-ending cycle of misery, but the sun was setting when he pulled away from me. He was clam now. I saw the apology he couldn't voice sitting on the tip of his tongue, and offered him a smile. He seemed relieved he wouldn't have to find the words, instead giving a curt nod before leading us back inside the shack. Alex always said he was crappy at apologizing. She was right._

 _Later that night, sitting on the battered porch while the crickets chirped we made amends. I told him I understood my Daddy's aversion to drinking, and he told me he was a dick when he drank. I think that was as close to apologizing as Daryl could get with someone who wasn't Alex. There were parts of himself he reserved solely for her, and that was one._

 _We talked about our pasts. He told me a story about beating up his brother's dealer before the kid held a gun to his head and threatened to kill him. It made me sad, thinking about his life before all this. I may have lost most of my family, but at least I had memories of better times. Daryl didn't even have that._

 _"Ya wanna know what I was b'fore all this?" he asked and I nodded. "I was just driftin' 'round with Merle doin' whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day. I was nobody. Nothing."_

 _"I don't believe that."_

 _He smiled at me, a sad smile._

" _Red," his eyes flicked to mine briefly as he licked his lips. "I told her the same thing once, that I was nothin', and she said there were worse things than bein' nothin'."_

 _"She didn't like who she was before all this, did she?"_

 _He shook his head no, swallowing hard._

" _Nah," he dropped his knife, eyes sliding out to the forest like they did every time he thought about her. He was always looking for her, whether he realized it or not. "But she didn't see what I saw."_

 _I smiled, "No one ever does." His eyes flicked to me and he chuckled. "I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around," I laughed, "I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective." Funny how the things that annoyed you the most were the things you remembered. The things you missed. "And my dad. I thought…I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby and he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but…it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved." I banged my head against a post, angry at myself for my weakness. I choked on a sob, "That's how unbelievably stupid I am."_

 _"That's how it was supposed to be."_

 _"I wish I could just…change."_

 _"Ya did."_

 _"Not enough. Not like you. Not like Alex. It's like you two were made for how things are now," I admitted._

 _"We're just used to it, things bein' ugly. Growin' up in a place like this."_

 _He looked at the inside of the shack with disgust. I wasn't as naïve as everyone assumed. I knew Daryl had a bad childhood. I knew even less about Alex's upbringing which was shocking considering I knew next to nothing about the man sitting across from me, but it didn't take a genius to guess it was…rough. She was unlike anyone I'd ever met, even Daryl. She was absolutely lethal, probably the most dangerous person walking the Earth, walkers included, but that wasn't the amazing part. Somehow despite all that she was still human. She laughed. She cried. She loved._

 _"What did she do before all this?" He dug the knife into the porch, his shoulders tense, and I worried I'd crossed the invisible line again. "Sorry, never mind," I backtracked._

 _"It don't matter what she did b'fore," he insisted, looking me dead in the eye._

 _I knew he wouldn't tell me any details, not now, not ever. She trusted him with her history, and he would take those secrets to the grave. His loyalty to her was unwavering. I smiled at him._

 _"You two are gonna be the last one's standing." He frowned, and I only grinned wider. "You are."_

 _"I don't even know if she's alive," he ground out. I did laugh a little at that. "That ain't funny."_

 _"I'm not laughing at that," I snorted, "I'm laughing at you."_

 _"The fuck?"_

 _I shook my head at him._ " _You really think she's gone?" He couldn't hold my gaze and I sighed. "Daryl?"_

 _"How the hell should I know?" he snapped, getting angry._

 _"You'd feel it…in here." I held my hand over my heart, my face softening. He looked at me skeptically. "What do you feel?"_

 _The crickets continued to chirp loudly as he stared at me with an unreadable expression. I had no idea what he was thinking much less feeling, but I hoped I could offer him comfort in some way. I wasn't lying when I said they would be the last one's standing. If anyone was going to survive this world it would be them, together, of that I had no doubt._

 _"Nah," he said finally and I looked at him, but he was staring into the forest again. "She ain't dead."_

 _That was progress. At least he was talking about her now. At least he still had hope. For a minute I thought maybe he'd lost that too, and then we really would be lost._

 _"You have to stay who you are, not who you were," I insisted, filling the silence between us. "Places like this…you have to put it away."_

 _We were literally sitting in a piece of his past. This may not be his father's moonshine shack, but it may as well have been. When he was here he wasn't Daryl Dixon, a council member, an unparalleled tracker, a precision hunter, a hardened survivor, or a loving husband. He was Daryl Dixon, a timid brother, a scared son, a drifter. He was nobody, nothing._

 _"What if ya can't?" he asked, eyes still searching for the one person who could soothe his battered soul. I wasn't Alex. I couldn't offer him that, but I could hold the pieces together until he found her._

 _"You have to or it kills you. Here."_

 _I held my hand over my heart. Funny, how the key to our salvation and demise lie in the same place._

 _"We should go inside," he said._

 _I grinned, an insane notion striking me as I looked at the rundown shack._

" _We should burn it down," I laughed, smiling even wider when he looked at me like I was nuts._

 _I probably was, but it felt right. We would put our pasts behind us. Literally burn them to the ground. Couldn't hurt, right? He stood up, grabbing the almost empty bottle of moonshine and walking away. My smile fell slightly at the dismissal, but he paused, looking over his shoulder._

 _"We're gonna need more booze."_

"We threw moonshine all over the place and lit it on fire," she laughed, her thumb steadily rubbing the back of my hand. "In an instant the whole place was engulfed. Man, it was awesome. We stood there, watching it burn, shooting the bird."

Moonshine and pyromania sounded like more fun than listening to Boot Scootin' Boogie on an endless loop. I may love Merle like the brother I never wanted, but his taste in music was reprehensible. Daryl and Beth definitely got the better end of the deal post prison, but at least my escape was rewarded with Flammin' Hot Chili Lime Cheetos for however brief a period.

The fog in my head was clearing exponentially with each passing minute. I could feel medication pumping through my veins, and where I couldn't move a muscle before I could now wiggle my fingers and toes. Breathing was slightly easier though the pain in my ribs would persist for a few weeks, but it wouldn't be long before I was awake.

The door opened and Beth tensed immediately, her hand going stiff in mine. I heard the same severe voice from earlier. This was bad. I tried to take stock of my body, knowing I needed to wake up. Beth needed me, and I wouldn't fail her like I failed her father. I was getting her out of here even if I had to kill everyone in this hellhole to do it.

I was hoping my ribs were just bruised, maybe cracked, but hopefully not broken. My arms and legs hurt, but not like they would if bones were broken so that was also good news. Unfortunately, that was where the good news ended. Every muscle ached, pulsating with a thousand heartbeats from a dozen different places. I felt the pull of cuts and stitches on various parts of my body. There was a heavy bandage on my wright wrist, and a pounding headache which was the result of a lump on the left side of my head. My stomach hurt worse than all my other injuries combined, cramping painfully, and I could only hope it wasn't due to internal bleeding. I wasn't at my best, but considering I was mowed down by a station wagon it could be a lot worse.

Happy thoughts Alex, happy thoughts.

"Who is she?" the stranger asked. Beth didn't answer immediately. I kept still, eyes closed, listening, waiting. "Come on, I'm not stupid. I know you know her."

"She's from my group."

The stranger hummed, the bed dipping slightly as she adjusted herself at the foot on my bed. I was barely able to restrain myself from knocking her off. "You could stay here, be a part of this, both of you."

I mentally rolled my eyes. We attracted crazy dictators like O.J. attracted jail time. It was freaky.

Beth chuckled, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Listen to me, this is for the best."

"You should let us both go," the youngest Greene daughter insisted, "Before it's too late."

"Too late?"

"This isn't going to go the way you think." Beth sounded different than I'd ever heard, confident, determined. "You have no idea what's coming."

"Beth, I don't…"

A voice crackled on a walkie talkie, "We got a situation out here."

"Time's up," Beth whispered.

It was a challenge to keep my breathing even. I knew exactly what Beth did. They were here. _He_ was here.

"What's going on?" The stranger stood, the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor as she paced.

"There's another group. They have some of our own. They want to do an exchange."

"I'll be right there," she barked. "Get her up and dressed. I'll send the doc to check her out. Meet me in the hallway"

As soon as the door clicked shut I moaned, rolling on my side as I struggled to sit up. Oh man, that hurt. Beth rushed to the bed, helping me.

"Alex, oh my god," she gushed, looking me over with a slight grimace. "Are you OK? How long have you been awake? Did you hear what she said?"

"Woah," I said, patting her arm gently. "Slow down Speed Racer."

She laughed, "I'm sorry. I'm just so glad you're alright. I was so scared when they brought you in. You looked terrible."

"Getting hit by a car will do that to you." If I saw the fuck-trumpets that ran me over I was shooting them on the spot. "Please tell me you have my clothes."

Fighting my way out of a stronghold in a backless gown was worse than a T-shirt and panties, and that was pretty damn bad.

"Yeah." She went to the bathroom, returning with an arm full of familiar clothes and a backpack she set beside me. "I've got your weapons and this."

She handed me the picture and my hand shook. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the familiar worn edges of the photograph I cherished.

"Thank you," I said and she smiled. I opened my arms and she stepped into me. "It's good to see you Greene."

"It's good to see you too Dixon."

I snorted, wincing slightly when my side protested. I gently probed my ribs and side, a myriad of purple bruises running the length of my body where my back impacted the windshield. My stomach contracted painfully and I doubled over, trying to breathe through the intense pain, but froze when I felt the blood in-between my legs.

"I'm so sorry Alex."

My eyes flew to Beth who looked close to tears, but I didn't understand. Sorry for what? My mind raced to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The implications of the bleeding, the cramping, of my friends unshed tears making me shake my head frantically in stunned disbelief.

"W-w-what?" I choked out, my vision swimming.

Beth took a hesitant step, swallowing hard. "They couldn't save the baby."

The world pitched to the side, a strangled, animalistic sound coming from me. Beth rushed forward, catching me as I slumped against the bed.

Baby.

The word kept repeating in my mind over-and-over, but it did nothing to help me accept this new reality. I was pregnant, _was_ being the operative word. I lost the baby. it didn't feel real. It felt like I was floating outside myself watching it happen to someone else, a stranger. I didn't know what to feel, what to say, what to do. I tried to reach for an emotion, any emotion, but I felt nothing. All I felt was emptiness.

"You didn't know?" Beth asked, stroking my hair as I tried and failed to breathe.

"I didn't…I don't…"

"Shhh, it's OK," she cooed, "It's going to be alright."

But it wasn't. I knew it. So did she.

"Tell me," I insisted, pulling away and looking her in the eye.

I needed to hear it. I needed her to tell me every heartbreaking detail. She bit her lip, fidgeting under my gaze.

"The doctor thinks you were somewhere between six to eight weeks along. It's hard to know for sure." I did the math quickly in my head. That would put it a few weeks before I got sick, give or take. "The trauma from the accident…it was just too much...there wasn't anything they could do. It was early enough that you didn't need surgery. Your body will…do the work. You'll have some intense cramping for a few days along with heavy bleeding like a horrible period, but he said there shouldn't be any reason you can't conceive again in the future…"

"Stop."

I put a hand up, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in and out. I couldn't hear anymore. It was too shocking, too raw. I couldn't accept it. I couldn't believe it. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. There was a life inside me, a life Daryl and I created, a life that was brutally taken from us.

I'd never seriously considered the idea of having children, but now that I'd had one stolen from me I realized how badly I wanted it. I saw the future these people destroyed, my stomach getting bigger and bigger while Daryl fretted over every little thing. I saw my husband holding a small bundle in his arms, our child, who was a perfect mix of the two of us. I saw what could have been, but was now gone and I was left with shame. All those times I was sick after the prison had nothing to do with my illness. I was pregnant and I didn't know. I was ashamed I wasn't more careful. I was ashamed I hadn't protected my child.

"Am I interrupting?" My body reacted on autopilot as I pulled my PPQ from the backpack, aiming it at the intruder who stood in the door, face pale, arms raised. "I'm, uh, Dr. Edwards. Dawn, she uh, sent me to help you get ready."

I looked at Beth who nodded curtly, worry plastered on her face. I lowered my weapon and the doctor let out a breath he was holding. I stood up slowly, legs weak as I gathered my clothes, heading to the bathroom.

"You should really take it easy," Dr. Edwards insisted, taking a step forward. I pointed the gun at his head and he stopped, eyes wide. "Or not."

I shuffled into the bathroom, methodically dressing, trying to ignore the physical and emotional turmoil inside me. I didn't look at myself in the mirror, didn't look at my injuries, coldn't find the strength to acknowledge what happened, what I'd lost. If I didn't find a way to push it all away we might not make it out of this alive. I choose to focus on my anger. Anger was safe. Anger was easy. Anger would get us out of here. It wasn't healthy, but it would keep me going until we put some distance between us and this place. I focused all my rage on the ringleader, Dawn. It would be a minor miracle if I didn't slit her throat the second I laid eyes on her, consequences be damned.

"Tell me about Dawn." The venom in my voice made Beth swallow hard as I handed her the backpack, tucking my PPQ in the waistband of my jeans. Dr. Edward's stood with his back against the wall, sweat beading on his forehead. "Will she go for the trade?"

I could practically feel Beth's need to address the gigantic elephant in the room, but we didn't have time for that, and I didn't have the emotional bandwidth. If I focused on anything other than getting us out of here we died, period.

"Dawn was a cop. They all were," Beth began, twisting her hands in front of her nervously. "Dawn, she needs people to _need_ her. She brings weak people back, makes them reliant on her. It's how she justifies all this. When people need her she feels…justified, like she has a purpose."

"Do the others want her in power?"

Beth shook her head, "No, they want her gone. They want the abuse to stop, but they don't know how."

Bullet in the brain worked wonders in my experience.

"Get dressed," I instructed. She nodded once, heading for the bathroom. I turned my attention to the doctor. "Are there medical supplies in here?" He nodded jerkily. "Get them."

He quickly walked to a cart in the corner pulling out bandages, antibiotic ointment, gauze and various other over-the-counter supplies. I unzipped the backpack and he wordless shoved them inside. He opened another drawer and hesitated, my hand instantly wrapping around my weapon, but when I saw what he was holding I ground my teeth together so hard it hurt.

"You've had what we call a spontaneous abortion. You'll bleed heavily for the next few days, possibly a week or more. It will be like an intense period. Tylenol and Motrin won't help much with the pain, but it's all I have access to," he explained, putting the pads and pills into the backpack. "No tampons or sexual intercourse until that's all stopped. I'm fairly sure the remains of the embryo will pass on its own, but if you start running a fever then…" Then I died. I would need medical attention we didn't have access to. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Not enough to do anything about Dawn," I spit, taking my pain out on him simply because he was here.

"I don't agree with her methods," he insisted, "I'm just trying to survive. What am I supposed to do?"

His weakness made me irate.

"You either fight against evil or you accept it. There is no in-between. Doing nothing is the same thing as pulling the trigger."

His head fell as Beth came out of the bathroom, looking between us hesitantly.

"We need to go," she said. I nodded in agreement, handing her the backpack.

When I opened the door and the duo didn't immediately follow I turned around, eyebrow raised. She gestured towards a wheelchair and I scowled. I would rather listen to Boot Scootin' Boogie for all eternity than be wheeled out of here in that thing.

"Not a fucking chance in hell," I snapped.

Beth sighed. Dr. Edward's shuttered.

"You really need to stay of your feet." I turned towards him slowly and he cringed. "How much epinephrine did you give her?"

"Exactly what you said," Beth answered.

Pure adrenaline. So that's what was making me feel like I could tear this place down with my bare hands. Well, that and blind fury.

"It shouldn't be possible…I mean, medically speaking she…the trauma alone…the body is only capable of…"

"Land the plane doc," I said, rolling my eyes.

"You were hit by a car," he exclaimed. I looked at Beth who shrugged with a smirk on her face.

"You guys keep saying that like I wasn't there."

"You shouldn't even be alive much less walking around."

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. "I told you, they aren't like other people." Not like other people? What did _that_ mean? "Remember the guy I told you about, the one I was with before they took me?"

"Yeah."

Beth nodded her chin at me. "That's her husband." The doctor looked close to fainting, and for the first time since I woke up I grinned. "Her brother-in-law's probably out there too."

Now he looked ready to curl up in a corner and cry. The hilarious part was out of the three of us those two were the least likely to tear his limbs from his sockets and beat him to death with them. Regardless, I was forever grateful for the subject change. It felt normal which made me feel normal, and I needed to feel normal right now. I didn't want to be the woman who just lost a baby.

"What exactly did you tell these people?" I asked, cracking the door open and scanning the hallway.

"The truth," she answered simply.

"Is she the one who can…?"

The doctor waved both his hands around like he was trying to fend off a horde of bees.

"Yeah."

"No," I corrected, "I have no idea what that was, but that's not what I do. What I do is way…cooler."

"We should go," Beth suggested and I nodded, stepping into the hallway and motioning for them to follow.

The doctor kept a good five feet of space us and I smirked. We made our way down the hall, Beth's hand at my elbow. The pressure increased with each turn. On turn 150 I officially regretted leaving the wheelchair behind. If I'd known we were going to do a Bataan Death March I would have let them wheel my busted ass to the exchange point. I mean, where was it, Mars?

"It's just up ahead," Dr. Edwards said, answering my unspoken question.

"He's going to be so happy to see you," Beth whispered when we rounded yet another corner, sweat beading at my forehead as I panted through the pain.

"He's going to be happy to see you too." She smiled, squeezing my forearm. "Thank you, for taking care of him, for being there, after."

"It's what we do."

Yes, it was.

A solid line of blue uniformed officers stood ready at the exchange point, and I felt my hackles rise. They all had their weapons drawn, and my hand itched to draw my own. Between my homicidal urges and their defensive posture we weren't starting on a high note. I told myself to hold it together. We were so close. I could fall apart after we got out of this nightmare.

We stopped a few paces behind the cops, Beth's fingers curling around my hand as the doctor stopped on my left side. I saw the outline of people on the other side of a door at the end of the hall, and my heart went into overdrive. Daryl was on the other side of that door. I could feel him.

The woman at the front of the group gave a subtle head nod, and all the officers holstered their weapons. Dawn. My left hand went to my back, but Beth squeezed my hand hard, shaking her head no. My body vibrated with a need to kill the woman who killed my baby. I felt like a pressure cooker about to explode.

Beth's scared, blue eyes brought me back to myself. I had no idea how many people were in this hospital, no idea what the situation was on the other side of the door. I couldn't keep her safe if I lost it now. I wouldn't risk her life for vengeance. Not after everything she'd been through, after everything Maggie had been through. My pain, my need for revenge, would just have to wait.

"Holster your weapons," Dawn ordered, speaking into a walkie talkie on her shoulder.

A second later both doors swung open, a procession of cops walking through the doors. Two hung back, restrained by Rick, Daryl, Merle, Tyreese, Carol, Sasha and the boy-man. Daryl's eyes instantly found mine, and even from across the hall I could see how hard it was for him to stay still. Merle stood directly behind him, ready to restrain him if needed. I gave him a small smile and he narrowed his eyes, not buying the reassurance for a second.

As the cops finally made it to us Dawn turned. She raised her eyebrows a fraction of an inch. She was surprised to see me standing here. I glared at her. She had no idea what I was capable of, injuries be damned. I could snap her neck in an instant, but that would be too good for her. I wanted her to suffer.

"They haven't been harmed," Rick said, referring to his prisoners.

"Where's Lampson?"

Best guess, dead. If Rick wasn't using him as leverage in the exchange the smart money said it was because he'd officially gone towards the white light.

"Rotters got him," the female cop answered in a monotone voice.

Lie.

"We saw it go down," the male confirmed.

Another lie.

Beth was right. These people wanted Dawn gone. The fact they were willing to lie for strangers only confirmed it.

"Oh," Dawn mumbled. Whether she was suspicious or sad was hard to tell. "I'm sorry to hear that. He was one of the good guys." I drug my tongue across my teeth. We were going to have to agree to disagree on that point. "One of yours for one of mine."

"Alright," Rick agreed, giving Daryl a head nod. He shoved the male cop forward, and I tugged on Beth's hand.

"Go," I urged.

She shook her head, but I pushed her forward without further comment. I needed to know she was safe. I owed it to Hershel and Maggie. Daryl gave the youngest Greene daughter a once over as she stumbled towards him. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when he pulled her in for a quick hug before ushering her behind him into Carol's waiting arms. The first exchange complete Rick walked forward with the female cop, and Dawn reached for me, but when I narrowed my eyes at her in warning she stopped.

"Touch me and I'll break every bone in your hand," I hissed.

I passed the female cop in the middle of the hall. She looked like she was walking the plank rather than being returned to her group, but I held no sympathy for her. Rick tracked my every step. He looked worried, eyes drifting over my battered body, taking in the damage. When I was within reach he engulfed me in a hug. He whispered quietly, asking if I was alright, and I nodded mutely. He pulled back, tears in his eyes and pressed a light kiss to my temple, steering me towards a waiting Daryl.

I limped to him as fast as my body would allow, all but falling into his waiting arms. He crushed me to him, one hand at the base of my neck and the other around my waist. He whispered words I couldn't make out, but it didn't matter. I curled my hands in his shirt, burying my head in the crook of his neck. His arms tightened around me, a soothing hand stroking my back lightly. I felt another set of arms wrap around both of us and choked on a laugh. I leaned back slightly, pulling Merle to me.

"I'm glad we could work this out," Dawn said and we pulled away, turning to face her.

I saw Beth grinning at us and smiled sadly at her. I felt Daryl's hand on the small of my back urging us away from the cops, his desire to get out of here palpable.

"Yeah," Rick said, tone curt.

"Now I just need Noah," she stated, her cold, detached voice echoing in the hallway.

Everyone froze. Noah? My eyes darted around the group until they fell on the boy-man. His huge, terrified eyes spoke volumes about his thoughts on the idea. Beth was right about this woman. She needed to surround herself with those she thought weaker in order to feel purposeful, powerful.

"After I have him you can leave."

Rick stalked down the hall. "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Noah was my ward," she explained, "Beth took his place, and I'm losing her so I need him back."

"Ma'am, please…"

"Shepherd," she snapped, cutting her off.

Oh wow. This bitch didn't even realize she was batshit crazy. You could see it on her face. In her fucked up head this all made sense. In that moment I knew we weren't getting out of here without a body count.

"My officers put their lives on the line to find him. One of them died."

Noah tried to step forward and Daryl shoved him back, shoulder-to-shoulder with Rick. "He's stayin'."

I walked forward, stopping beside my husband, eyeing the woman I wanted dead. I was almost giddy she was pulling this shit. I needed an opening to kill her, and she was giving me one.

"You have no claim on him."

"Neither do you," I taunted. Her eyes snapped to mine, face stormy. "You better check yourself Olivia Benson. This isn't your choice to make."

"He's mine!"

"The boy wants to go home," Rick snarled, "So _you_ have no claim on him."

She stood there, eerily still, in desperate need of a mood stabilizer. "Well, then we don't have a deal."

"The deal is done!" Rick snapped even as Noah limped forward offering himself up to appease the psycho. "No," Rick waved him off.

Merle blocked the kid's path and Beth tugged on his sleeve, desperate to save him. Noah didn't look scared just resigned to his fate.

"It's OK," he assured Rick. "I gotta do it."

He took a handgun from his jeans, handing it to Rick as his eyes met mine. I shook my head. He couldn't do this. If he stayed here he would die. Everything this woman touched turned to ash.

"This is not OK," Beth mumbled.

"Then it's settled."

Dawn sounded triumphant, a crazy glint in her demented eyes. This was wrong. I moved my hand towards the back of my jeans, but Daryl's hand grasped my wrist, his eyes never leaving Dawn who didn't notice the exchange. Everyone watched in silence as Noah limped towards his death, but Beth raced forward, her blonde hair a blur.

"Wait!"

She threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him. His eyes watered as he held her, and I fought the urge to draw my weapon and end this. I couldn't believe we were going to let him make this sacrifice for us.

"It's OK," Noah assured her, but it wasn't and we all knew it. Dawn's eyes slide to him, a small, triumphant smirk on her face.

"I knew you'd be back," she smiled.

That phrase, it meant something to Beth. She released Noah, walking to stand directly in front of Dawn. It's strange how the most pivotal moments in your life always unfold in slow motion. I'd experienced the phenomenon so many times I knew instantly what the hair on my arm standing up meant. I also knew my stomach bottoming out would soon follow.

I watched Beth slowly reached across her body, discreetly pulling something out of her cast. The cop she was facing off with was too distracted by her defiance to notice the movement, but I did. I also knew what she was planning to do. I saw the slight tremble in her body Dawn mistook for fear, but was actually adrenaline. I noticed the determined set of her shoulders that screamed her intentions loud and clear.

In a flurry of movement Beth lunged at Dawn, wielding a tiny pair of scissors like it was Deadpool's samurai sword. I wasn't even consciously aware I drew my weapon until my finger wrapped around the trigger. Beth shouted a war cry, plunging the scissors into the stunned cop's shoulders.

It was like déjà vu.

It was just like watching Hershel die. I saw Dawn's face transform from surprise to pain, her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at her hip. I knew what happened next because it'd happened before only this time I wasn't a heartbeat too late.

I squeezed the trigger before anyone else even registered what was happening. The gunshot entirely too loud in the silent hallway. Dawn's head snapped back as the momentum of the bullet threw her body into the wall. A splash of red sprayed across the wall, the vivid color a stark contrast to the muted color pallet of the hospital. The dead cop slowly slide down, a trail of blood marking a gruesome path, until she hit the ground, slumping to the side, eyes open and unseeing. I barely heard the collective gasps of surprise over the roaring in my ears and for a moment no one moved, gaping at the dead body.

For what felt like a full minute the world paused. My breathing was coming in fast ragged pants, my arm shaking under the minuscule weight of the weapon I still had aimed at a dead woman. She'd killed my child. She wasn't behind the wheel. It wasn't her who slammed into my body brutally taking the life I didn't know was inside me, but it was on her orders. She was responsible and I felt nothing but vindication standing over her corpse. I didn't even realize I was crying until I tasted the salty liquid on my tongue, and then the world jumped into fast forward, the sights and sounds of the hallway so loud, so chaotic it was disorienting.

I saw Rick shove Beth and Noah behind him as he drew his weapon, shouting at the cops across from us who had their own weapons drawn.

Daryl and Merle took a collective step forward, flanking me on either side, weapons raised. They shouted threats at the enemy, daring them to make a move.

I heard Beth crying behind me, heard Carol comforting her as she ushered both teens further away from the rapidly deescalating situation.

Much too slow and far too shaky I swung my arm away from Dawn, pointing it at the cops who were threatening to kill us. Shepherd took a step forward, her face white as she looked at me with sympathy. She knew.

"Hold your fire!" she ordered, holding up one hand while she slowly, methodically, holstered her own weapon. "It's over. It was just about her. Stand down."

My heart jack-hammered in my chest so hard it felt like it might shatter my already tender ribs. At first it appeared her plea fell on deaf ears, but then in the back a cop followed her example, holstering his weapon and then like domino's they all did.

"Put it down," Rick said, dropping his weapon to his side. Merle and Daryl reluctantly complied, but just like Rick they kept their weapons ready just in case. "Alex."

I stood in the hall, lips clamped together, shaking my head no. I didn't trust them. They kidnapped Beth, ran me over, killed my child, and would have killed Noah.

 _"Kill them,"_ a voice whispered in my head and I strangled sob punched from my lungs. _"Their lives are yours to take."_

I shook my head violently even as my finger squeezed the trigger harder.

"Red."

I swallowed thickly, weapon still aimed at my enemy.

"No." To her credit Shepherd didn't look surprised at my reaction. It only confirmed what I suspected, she knew. "They don't get to live."

Merle took a hesitant step towards me and I drew a knife, my arm snapping up with quickness that surprised him. He stopped immediately, eyeing the blade that was dangerously close to his throat with a slightly raised eyebrow.

 _"You were born to end lives. Do it,"_ the voice urged.

"Alex, this ain't ya," Daryl pleaded, staying absolutely still on my other side.

He was wrong. This was exactly who I was. I was a killer and these people had taken something from me. The only way to satisfy my black heart was to kill them. That was justice in this world. I couldn't see past my own need to hurt someone like I hurt. Every bone in my body demanded retribution. Deep down I knew the pain in my soul would still be there even after I walked over their dead bodies, but I couldn't stop myself, couldn't control the impulses flooding my system. It was like telling someone not to breathe, not to blink, it was simply impossible.

This was the part of myself I feared most. The monster I constantly fought to keep at bay. The voice in my head was telling me to kill them, and it was so loud it drowned out the pleas of my husband, my brother-in-law, and the rest of my family. They were trying to save me, but I was lost in the darkness.

"I'm sorry." I blinked rapidly, eyes refocusing. A single tear fell down Shepherd's solemn face. "What she did to you, to others…it was wrong and I knew it, but I was too weak to stand up to her. I should have." She sucked in a breath, taking another step forward. "If you need to take a life, take mine, but please, spare them."

I stared into her eyes, finger on the trigger, battling the part of me that wanted to spill her blood against the part of me that knew it wasn't right. It would solve nothing, and I would be left with another red mark on a ledger there was no way to square.

I squeezed my eyes closed, doubling over as a scream tore from my lips. I fell to my knees, dropping my weapons, clutching my head in my hands. I screamed so loud my throat ached, and my head pulsed so violently I felt nauseous. My injuries and sheer exhaustion were the only things that forced me to stop. Otherwise I might have screamed forever.

"Get her out of here," Rick instructed, his voice cracking with emotion as he watched me fall apart.

Merle collected my weapons, sympathy on his face and then a strong pair of arms cradled my body, lifting me in one swoop. All the fight whooshed out of me the moment he touched me, and I turned, burying my head in his chest. He pulled me closer, quickly turning and striding down the hallway, desperate to put distance between me and whatever was hurting me. Too bad no matter how far we ran we'd be no closer to leaving it behind.

I knew enough about pain to understand there was no getting over this. There was only finding a way to survive it, to live with it. I lost something I never knew I had, never knew I wanted, but the moment it was taken a piece of me died. As Daryl carried me outside, the sun blinding behind my closed eyes, I mourned the baby I would never know, but loved with my whole heart.

Somehow I had to find a way to say goodbye without ever getting the chance to say hello.

* * *

 **This is the second major plot change from the show. There are two reasons for this. The first is when I saw this episode and watched Beth die the only thing I thought was what a waste. I understand TWD is not an "everyone lives happily ever after" kind of show, but Beth's death was so pointless. It felt like nothing was accomplished. I think Beth deserves better than that so in this story she gets to stab Dawn AND walk away from it. You go girl!**

 **The second, and more pressing reason was I wanted the loss in this chapter to be focused on Alex. All the grief and turmoil that will follow needed to be solely about the unexpected loss our favorite couple will have to deal with. Not only would killing Beth be pointless in my opinion, but it would take away from what happened to Alex.**

 **Some of you have asked for Daryl POV's during the separation and while this isn't that in the traditional sense it does give you a glimpse of what he went through during that time. Did you enjoy seeing Daryl through Beth's eyes and parts of their time together?**

 **I'll be honest, when I first wrote this Beth died, there was no Beth POV flashback, and Alex wasn't pregnant. Then I realized it was too boring, too predicable, and left an incredible opportunity unrealized. So I went back to previous chapters and added subtle hints that her illness might be more, like morning sickness, and then re-wrote this chapter where she experiences what could be her greatest loss yet.**

 **Did any of you suspect she was pregnant? How did you feel watching her go through this?**

 **The next few chapters will be quiet an emotional journey for everyone. I hope your excited to see what happens.**


	48. Where My Demons Hide

**Where My Demons Hide**

Time was hard to track when all you did was sleep in the back of a van for days on end. It was shocking how exhausting it was to do nothing. I didn't go on runs. I didn't pull watch. I didn't drive. I didn't even eat. I slept and I mourned, that was it. Inside I was screaming at the top of my lungs, but on the outside I was silent. I felt alone even though I wasn't. Beth. Daryl. Merle. Maggie. One of them was always by my side, but they felt a million miles away.

I was still reeling from the events at the hospital, my physical injuries healing far faster than my emotional ones. The revelation of my pregnancy and subsequent loss of the child I didn't know I carried haunting me. I hadn't cried, hadn't told anyone what happened. Hell, I'd hardly said two words since Rick made the decision to put Georgia in our rearview and I was lucid enough to know that was unhealthy. I just didn't care. I had 530 miles to get my shit together and at the pace I was progressing I was going to need every single inch.

The cramping Dr. Edwards promised finally eased yesterday, and I was left with only moderate bleeding, a not so subtle reminder of the loss. I felt what could only be characterized as biological loneliness, a unique and particularly awful feeling I had no skills to cope with. I struggled with my self-imposed isolation, not able to accept comfort from those around me, but desperately wanting to. My emotions were erratic, raging inside me like a violent thunderstorm while my outward demeanor was emotionless. I was trapped inside myself with no way out. The days crawled by, but the nights were worse.

At night there was nothing to distract me from the prison I was locked in. I listened to Daryl snore quietly beside me and I wondered if losing the baby was for the best. Maybe it was the universes way of telling me I wasn't ready to be a mother. Maybe it was the safest outcome for the group. Maybe it just…was. All those thoughts made the guilt pile on my shoulders until it threatened to crush me. I'd suffered some pretty horrific things in my life, but none came close to how traumatized this experience left me.

Daryl saw it, there was no hiding it from him, and that only added to the pain. He saw it every time he looked into my lifeless eyes, urging me to eat, to sleep, to do something other than just exist. I hated myself for putting him through this. The look on his face each morning before he slipped out of the van spoke of a man who felt he was failing to protect his wife. I wanted to tell him he hadn't failed me. It was just that the miscarriage had broken me open.

The van shuttered to a stop, doors subsequently opening and I sighed. The passage of time was marked by stops to siphon fuel, catch a few hours of sleep or short runs raiding whatever house or town we happened to stumble across. I didn't know how far we'd traveled, how long it'd been since we left the hospital, but every minute that slowly ticked by felt like an eternity.

"Do you want to stretch your legs?" Beth asked quietly, still coaxing me towards recovery despite my indifference.

The young woman was never far from my side. She sat beside me in the back of the van, holding my hand in vigil. She only left for significant periods of time at night after the back of the van opened, revealing a hesitant and worried Daryl. She would squeeze my hand gently, promising to be back in the morning and then slide out.

She was instantly replaced by Daryl who laid down facing me, taking my hand and interlacing our fingers. We didn't talk. He tried the first few days, but got so frustrated with noncommittal grunts and halfhearted shrugs he snapped an arrow in half in his frustration. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me.

Beth may be the only one who knew the truth behind my current state, but Daryl wasn't an idiot. He knew there was more to my lethargy than being hit by a car. He feared the worst and I didn't know if the truth would be better or worse than whatever nightmare he was imagining. Not that it mattered. I was too much of a coward to tell him anything. I was too selfish to swallow my own grief and give him something. Anything would be infinitely better than silence, but the depression I was drowning in made the words stick in my throat every time I tried.

"Yeah," I answered, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

I sat up slowly, my bruised body just as off kilter as my voice. I slide out of the van, trying to hide from her just how much it hurt to move. Dr. Edwards explanation of what I to expect was a bit lacking. "Intense period" my left tit. Three days ago it felt like my uterus was squeezing my internal organs until they liquefied and I was amazed I hadn't died from blood loss.

"There's a creek just off that way." Beth pointed into the woods. "Want to get cleaned up?"

"I got it," I told her, feeling guilty she was shouldered my burden. "Go find Maggie. I'll be alright."

She didn't look convinced and I couldn't blame her. The odds were pretty good I wouldn't make it to the creek. I hadn't gone further than 10 feet from the van in days. It was entirely possible I'd fall down and lie there for the rest of my life. I plastered a fake smile on my face even going so far as to nudge her in the general direction of her sister because this wasn't fair to her.

"I don't mind going with you," she tried, biting her lip.

"I'm fine. Go." When she didn't immediately race off to enjoy her time away from a miserable former assassin I went for the kill shot. "When's the last time you saw Nugget?"

Her eyes lit up. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

I wasn't, not even close, but she needed this. I could survive a few minutes without a safety net. She handed me a pack, giving me a quick hug and then she was gone. I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I walked around the van. Rick, Abraham and Glenn had their backs to me, huddled around the map discussing route options and gossiping like teenage girls.

"She's barely eating," Glenn said, worry in his voice.

Abraham put a gigantic hand on his humongous hip. "What do ya expect? She got laid out by a station wagon. I'll be the first to admit she's got balls the size of boulders, but that would fuck anybody up."

I stopped a few feet back, leaning against the van. I didn't know if I should be offended or flattered by the " _balls the size of boulders"_ comment. Coming from Ariel it felt like a compliment.

"That's not it," Glenn assured him. "She's not talking. Not even to Daryl or Merle. She's slept for practically five days."

Five days?! Holy mother of shit. I knew I'd been in a funk, but five-freaking-days. No wonder everyone was concerned.

"We have to give her time," Rick insisted.

"She can have as much time as she needs as long as we don't have walkers up our fourth point of contact."

"Abraham." Rick's voice held a hint of warning and the giant redhead scoffed.

"Don't gimme that. You know I'm right," he huffed, "That woman makes The Winter Soldier look like a backwoods Sunday school teacher. We don't stand a cold chance in hell without her."

Rick gave him a sidelong glance, face impassive. The only sign the description bothered him the slight tick in his jaw.

"She'll be fine."

" _She's_ going to go to the creek," I spoke up. All three men turned at the same time. "Just thought I'd let someone know, but feel free to keep talking about me."

Glenn's mouth opened and closed a few times in shock and Ariel's red eyebrows were somewhere in his red hair. Rick was the only one who didn't look completely shocked at my unexpected entrance. He took a step away from the other two, eyes scanning me from head to toe and I tried to stand up extra tall even though it hurt like a son of a bitch. He sighed heavily, ushering me further away.

"You good?"

Those two words held so much meaning. He was asking 600 different questions with one simple phrase.

I gave him a slight smirk. "Gotta be."

Lie. I wasn't good, not physically and certainly not emotionally, but with every roll of the wheels we got closer to wherever the fuck we were going and pretty soon the world wouldn't care if I was ready or not.

"Daryl and Merle went hunting but we could probably find them…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm just going to the creek." He didn't look convinced. "I've got balls the size of boulders remember?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." He had the good manners to look slightly embarrassed. "Listen Alex, I…"

"I'll be back in a few," I interrupted, saving us both from a conversation we didn't want to have. I loved Rick, I really did, but I'd rather pet a walker than touch this subject matter with a 10-foot pole. "It's just over there?"

I pointed into the woods and he nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair. I walked away without another word, trying to ignore the feel of his eyes boring into my back. I knew he was worried, worried about my physical well-being, worried about my mental state, worried the time would come and my "badass ninja skills" would fail me and conversely the group as a whole. That was a lot of worry to pile on one man's shoulders. I wanted to lighten his load, if only a little, but I didn't know how. I didn't know how to fight my way out of my own head. I was in uncharted waters with no idea how to navigate.

Thankfully the creek was as close as Beth promised, and thank god because by the time I got there I was huffing and puffing like a hippopotamus with emphysema. I may have lounged in the back of the van for a few days too many. Once my vision cleared and my legs didn't feel like a baby giraffe walking for the first time I stripped down to my bra and boy shorts, wadding to the middle of the creek despite the frigid temperatures. I held my breath, submerging my head under the water for a moment before resurfacing. Gingerly I lathered up, careful of the colorful bruises cascading down my body. I even washed my hair with Maggie's sun-ripened raspberry shampoo and conditioner.

I traded my filthy, blood soaked, torn clothes for a less disgusting ensemble and made a mental note to find some new clothes. I smiled when I found a clean tank top shoved in the bottom of the pack. I swear Beth was aiming for sainthood. Now clean and dressed I sat down against a tree to brush my hair. I heard a twig snap and tensed, my hand sliding to a knife at my waist, ears straining. I heard leaves crunching followed by another branch breaking and relaxed.

"Hey Carol."

She appeared from behind a tree, smiling down at me. "How did you know it was me?"

"You make more noise than a hyper cow in a metal barn."

She frowned, sitting next to me. "Huh?"

"Wait, I think it's a mule in the barn, not a cow."

"You mean a restless mule in a tin barn?" she corrected.

"That's the one," I agreed and then scowled. "How did you know that?"

I'd been trying for almost a year and a half and still couldn't string two words together in redneck.

"I grew up in the south," she said with a shrug.

"It's redneck not southern," I mumbled under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She gently nudged my shoulders and I looked at her expectantly. She sighed dramatically, taking the hair brush and making a circular motion with it. Guess it was Alex gets an updo time. I obliged because I didn't have the strength to fight with Carol over something as petty as my hairdo.

She painstakingly parted my hair on the right side before gather a two-inch piece of hair at my forehead and carefully sectioned it into three equal strands. She hummed softly as she wove the strands back-and-forth down the side of my head. The humming combined with the pulling and tugging on my skull was hypnotic and oddly soothing.

"It gets easier."

Her voice was so soft I almost didn't hear her, but it was the understated emotion in her tone that made a tingle race down my spine. Did she know? If so, how? A million other questions shot through my brain so fast I felt dizzy. My throat was so dry I licked my lips, opening and closing my mouth a few times, trying to work up the nerve to speak. She said nothing else, patiently braiding my hair like I wasn't having an existential crisis right in front of her.

"How did you know?" I finally asked, deciding the to start with the easiest question.

She wrapped a hair tie around the end of my hair at the base of my neck, gently angling my head so she could start another braid on the opposite side. Wow, two braids, fancy.

"It's fairly obvious." It was? "Especially for someone who's been through it." I sucked in a breath, trying to turn and face her, but she shushed me with a small smile, tilting my head away so she could continue to braid. "It was a long time ago. Ed and I had only been married a few months when I got pregnant. I lost the baby before I ever worked up the nerve to tell him. In the end it was probably for the best. We weren't ready and later on we had Sophia so…"

"I'm sorry."

Sorry for the baby she lost. Sorry for the daughter she lost.

"Me too." She squeezed my shoulder briefly and I covered my hand with hers. "Did Daryl know?"

"No," I choked out, "I didn't even know. Jesus, how fucked up is that? How can you be pregnant and not even know? I always knew I'd be a shitty mother, but that's ridiculous even for me. The crazy part is we used protection every time. How in the hell did I even get pregnant?"

I'd mistaken all the times I threw up after the prison for my lingering illness, and I'd stopped tracking my period sometime last the winter. Stress, malnutrition and weight loss made them sporadic at best. In my heart I knew all those things made identifying a pregnancy, especially one so new, difficult, but that was little consolation in my pit of self-loathing.

"Condoms are only 98% effective."

"Wh…what?" That couldn't be right. "So what, 2% of the time they don't do shit?" She shrugged, slightly amused at my ignorance. "Well…that sucks. They should put something that important on the box."

"They do."

My mouth fell open in shock. They did? I'd never seen it, but then again if you had time to peruse the condom box during sexy time someone wasn't doing it right. She secured the second braid as she gathered up the loose strands hanging down my back, twisting them into a low bun and securing it with a hair tie.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

"I don't know how," I confessed, hanging my head. She sat beside me, reaching over and taking my hand in hers.

"You have to tell him Alex. He can't take not knowing, watching you suffer and having no idea why. It's literally tearing him apart."

"I want to. I just…"

What if he hates me? What if he blames me? What if he's relieved? What if he never wants children?

"Breathe," she instructed, squeezing my hand as I lost what little was left of my shit. I took a deep inhale, holding it for a second before releasing it and repeating the process. "He won't hate you or blame you. You're being too hard on yourself."

I turned to look at her, shocked. "How did you…?"

"Like I said, I've been there."

"Right."

We sat in silence, both deep in thought. I tried to picture telling Daryl and I couldn't get past the part where I asked if I we could talk. It was progress, of a sort, considering the only exchanges we'd had in five days consisted of grunts.

"Do you want children?" she asked.

Five days ago that question would have thrown me for a loop, but I'd asked myself the same thing countless times since we left the hospital.

"Before this…I would have said no, not in a million years. I mean, look at us." I raised my hand, gesturing to the world in general. "Do you remember how hard it was on Lori, and the group, when she was pregnant? She used to tell me she felt like a burden and I always denied it, but the truth was…"

Even now I couldn't bring myself to admit the truth, that her pregnancy was an incredible burden. I wouldn't give up Nugget for anything, but it was an added obstacle we almost didn't overcome. And in the end, after all her suffering and struggles she died before she was able to hold her little girl.

"It won't always be like this." I rolled my eyes. She didn't know that. "You didn't answer the question."

"I don't…I don't know. Maybe…someday."

"I get it," she said, coming to my rescue.

"Oh thank god." She put her arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer.

"You have to let it hurt Alex. Let yourself cry. Let yourself heal." She looked at me and I met her steady gaze, soaking in her advice. "And when you've done that you have to let it go."

I exhaled harshly, eyes flicking to the ground. She gave me one last squeeze before standing up and walking away. I sat by the creek long enough to get my chaotic feelings somewhat under control. My stomach was churning the entire walk back to the road, an ominous feeling building with every step I took. I couldn't remember a time when I was nervous to talk to Daryl. Angry, amused, or mildly homicidal, sure, but nervous, never.

It was late in the day when I finally got to the cars, depositing my pack in the back of the van. Beth gave me an approving smile when she saw I was clean and sporting a Prom hairdo.

"We're staying here for the night," she informed me. "Everyone's really worn out after so many day of traveling."

I hummed in agreement, biting my lip as I surveyed the group. "Have you seen…"

"He's over there with Merle skinning squirrels."

I nodded, taking two steps in the direction she pointed before I stopped, turning around and hugging her. She jolted for a moment before a joyous giggle erupted from her, arms wrapping around me.

"I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done," I admitted. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming for me."

I released her, holding her at arm's length. "It's what we do."

I kept my head high and eyes trained ahead as I walked through the group, ignoring the shocked expressions and hushed whispers that followed. If I stopped I was likely to flee back to the safety of the van where I could continue to pretend the last five days never happened. While that idea held infinitely more appeal than facing what was to come I knew I couldn't. I missed Daryl. I needed him and he deserved better than what I'd given him. That was ending, now.

As promised the Dixon brothers were sitting on a log 30 feet away from camp skinning a sizeable pile of squirrels. My stomach rumbled painfully as I eyed the dead animals and I knew my hunger strike was officially over. If I found raw squirrel carcasses appealing I needed to eat and soon before I found innards appetizing or worse possums. I was all for being a Dixon, but there were some lines I wasn't crossing.

Merle noticed me first, his knife stub faltering in his surprise. Instead of gently separating the fur from the body he decapitated the poor animal, staring at me with his mouth open wide.

"What the fuck man?" Daryl barked, taking in the carnage. He followed his brother's line of sight, his shock at seeing me standing there only slightly more graceful than his brothers. He dropped the squirrel and shot to his feet. "Red."

"Hey guys." I wanted to slap myself. So incredible lame. "Can we talk?"

Daryl nodded, swallowing hard and wiping his dirty hands on his equally dirty jeans.

"Sure, leave 'ol Merle to do the dirty work. I see how it is."

For the first time in days I actually smiled. "I missed you too Captain Hook."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, his own smile barely visible through his fake annoyance.

I waited while Daryl collected his crossbow, his hands shaking slightly and I realized I wasn't the only one who was nervous. I reached out, slipping my hand into his and interlacing our fingers. His breathing shuttered, but he looked more comfortable. I led us further away from camp, deep into the forest, not wanting to risk being interrupted by people or walkers. This would be hard enough with just Daryl. I didn't need an audience witnessing what might be our most painful conversation to date.

We walked for five minutes before I stopped. I let go of his hand, drawing a knife and nodding at him as we broke apart to clear the immediate area. I circled the small clearing, finding nothing so I holstered my weapon. Daryl made two more sweeps before he finally stopped pacing. I didn't know if he was being extra careful or simply trying to put off the inevitable.

After his third sweep he finally relented, turning to face me. He looked tired, dark circles and bloodshot eyes a testament to his lack of sleep. His hair was greasy and matted against his head in a combination of sweat and dirt. His clothes, while never particularly clean, looked downright foul. But none of that hit me with the force of a wrecking ball. It was the look of absolute torment on his face that made me sick. I'd done this to him and I hated myself for it.

"I'm sorry," I admitted, hands shaking so bad I curled them into fists at my side. He narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer.

"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."

"I do." When he opened his mouth to argue I put my hand up, silencing him. "I told you once that I could handle anything but silence and you've given me that. You've stood by me day in and day out while I gave you nothing. You've given me your best and we both know I can't say that. Not these last few days."

I was a hypocrite. He deserved better and I wanted to give it to him so badly, but I was weak and afraid. His finger slipped under my chin, tilting my head up and forcing me to look at him. I still saw the torment in his eyes, but I also saw love, so much love.

"I told ya once I ain't never gonna leave ya," he declared. "And I ain't. Yur my wife. I love ya Red. Don't matter what happens. We're in this together. Till the end."

I knew that. Over the past five days while I lay in the back of a van struggling through the pain of my body expelling the last remnants of our child he was there. He held me. He ran his fingers through my filthy hair. He kissed my forehead and promised everything would be alright. He only left when absolutely necessary, entrusting my care to Beth or his brother. He had no idea what was happening to me, but he was there all the same.

I stepped into him, his arms instantly going around me. I buried my face in his chest, savoring the feeling of being held by him. I knew Carol was right. I had to tell him, even if it hurt him. We had to feel the hurt so we could let it go. It was the only way.

"I have to tell you something."

My voice was slightly muffled, but he heard me, pulling back so he could look at me. He was incredibly anxious as he awaited my declaration. I could only imagine what kind of terrible scenarios had played out in his head.

"I…I…"

He cradled my face in his large hands, peering down at me. "It's just me Red. Ya can tell me anythin'. It ain't gonna change nothin'."

I hoped that was true.

" _Let it hurt."_ Carol's words echoed in my mind and I took a deep breath.

"I was pregnant."

He didn't move, didn't break eye contact. It didn't even look like he was breathing. I felt myself start to shake, fearing I'd made a horrible mistake telling him. What good could come from it? None, my mind said. No good came from unloading a burden like this on someone else, someone who could do nothing to change the outcome.

I felt the urge to run, to get as far away as fast as possible. Where I could go I had no idea. There was nowhere to run where the pain wouldn't follow me, but the stricken look on my husband's face hurt so much it was difficult to stomach. I took a half step back, body quaking as I struggled with indecision. My instincts told me to run, but my heart begged me to stay.

I stepped on a twig and the noise snapped him out of his trance, eyes refocusing instantly. For a moment he looked almost surprised to find me standing there, but when he noticed my expression, realizing my intentions, his entire demeanor changed. His enormous hands wrapped around my upper arms and he hauled me against his massive chest with such force I stumbled. He held me tight, squeezing me to the point of pain.

"Are ya a'right?" he asked, unwilling to release me.

That did it. Those three little words unleashed a current of emotion I'd beat back since I woke up in the hospital to the news I'd lost my child. A strangled cry poured from my lips, my knees buckling. Daryl's grip on me tightened as I clutched the back of his shirt. He lowered us to the ground slowly while I sobbed. He adjusted me in his arms, leaning against a tree and holding me while I fell apart. It wasn't so different than the time we spent in the back of the van. He held me. He rubbed my back. He whispered that everything would be alright. He told me he loved me and he always would. The only difference now was I cried. I let it hurt.

"I gotcha Red."

"I didn't know. I swear. If I'd known…"

I'd what, not have gone after Beth, not been hit by a car? Neither was true and I wasn't sure if that made me a monster.

"Shh," he cooed.

It took another five minutes for me to calm down enough to sit up, wiping away tears.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to I was just…" I was selfish, afraid, and hurting.

He interrupted me, "I get it. Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." I shook my head but stayed quiet on the subject. I knew he had questions. "When ya got hit…" His face turned lethal in an instant. "Is that why ya lost the baby?"

"Yes," I nodded, unable to hold his penetrating gaze. What could only be described as a growl erupted from him, his entire body tensing with barely contained rage. "Daryl."

"If I hadn't let ya come…" He trailed off, not looking at me.

 _Let me come_? That was hilarious. I didn't listen to anyone, my husband included.

"Listen to me, there was nothing you could do." His sharp, blue eyes focused on me and I fought the urge to look away. "There's no way you could know what would happen and there is absolutely no way to keep me safe all the time. The world doesn't work like that anymore. We protected Lori for eight months and when the time came we still couldn't save her."

He shuttered and I trailed a hand down his face in sympathy. It was difficult to say and harder to listen to, but it was the truth. Even if we'd known I was pregnant and I sat on the bench until the baby was born there was still no guarantee I lived through the birth. Child birth was a risk far greater than walkers now.

"Does it…are ya…I mean, will ya be OK?"

I smiled sadly, "The pain is manageable and it's less and less every day. The doctor at the hospital said to watch for signs of infection, but I think we're outside that window now. There shouldn't be any lasting effects."

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "How'd ya get pregnant?"

I smirked, "Well, you see when a man puts his…"

"Stop." I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. It felt good to joke with him again. "I mean, we were…careful."

I sank against him, his arms encircling me. "I said the same thing. Apparently condoms are only 98% effective. Best I can figure is between the falsely advertised equipment and your super sperm we never stood a chance."

"They should put that on the box," he mused and I looked up at him.

"Thank you."

Carol said it _was_ on the box. It was probably at the very bottom in such small print you'd need a magnifying glass to read it. Typical. I could read the gluten free labels on cereal boxes from across the street, but on something as important as contraceptives it was in microscopic hieroglyphics.

We sat quietly for a moment and I felt a little lighter. It still hurt, it probably always would, but it was less suffocating now. I could think about it and not want to fall on the ground and never get up.

"Can ya…still have kids?" he asked, his tone displaying his discomfort. My heart thudded in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Is that…do you want that? Children I mean?"

Most people had conversations like this before they got married, but no one had ever accused Daryl and me of being conventional. I had no idea why I was so nervous. Until Daryl I considered having a family. I still didn't know if it was the smartest move considering the world we lived it, but when I imagined our future I couldn't deny I saw children. It may only be a dream, something neither of us lived to see fulfilled, but I wanted to believe it was possible. I wanted to hope.

"I want everythin' with ya," he admitted, chin resting on top of my head.

My heart pulsed with love for the man I knew I would never be worthy of having. I wasn't naïve enough to believe one child could replace another. We would always carry the pain and wonder what could have been. We would never forget, but we would move forward.

"We should get back," he said and I nodded, getting to my feet. He picked up his crossbow slinging it on his shoulder and guiding us back to camp.

"I'm sorry," I said and he stopped, turning to face me. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect our child."

In three steps he was in my face, eyes blazing.

"Stop." I didn't flinch at his tone, standing tall. I needed to get this out. "It ain't yur fault."

"It feels like it," I admitted.

"It ain't."

"I wanted to kill her." He knew who I was talking about. Dawn. "I wanted to kill them all."

His face softened, "Ya didn't."

"I'm pretty sure Dawn's brain matter all over the wall says different."

He scoffed, "She was gonna kill Beth. Ya did what ya had to."

Had I? When I thought about it I remembered reaching for my gun before Beth ever made a move. I was going to kill her no matter what. I didn't do it to save Beth, not really, and that terrified me. I was exactly what our group feared most.

"I would have killed her regardless."

I waited for the shame to wash over me, but it never came and somehow that was a million times worse.

"I don't believe that," he replied. He always believed in me more than I believed in myself. "Ya ain't a monster so just stop with the fuckin' pity party. Ya did what ya had to and I ain't gonna let ya feel sorry for killin' that bitch."

"Did you just say pity party?"

"Shut up." The corner of my mouth tipped up in a barely there smile. "I don't care what ya say Red. I was there and ya killed that woman to save Beth. Yeah, ya damn near smoked the others and I ain't gonna lie and say a part of me didn't want ya to, but ya didn't."

"I would have," I admitted. "If you hadn't been there. I would have killed them all."

"Nah, ya wouldn't." His faith in me was sweet. It was also absolute bullshit. "It ain't bullshit neither."

I reeled back, the Vulcan mind meld throwing me for a loop after being silent for so long.

"Even after all this time that's just…freaky," I mumbled. "I wish I had half as much faith in myself as you have in me."

He leaned down, brushing a quick kiss to my lips. It was an odd feeling, someone believing in you when you didn't believe in yourself.

"Just returnin' the favor," he drawled, pulling back and fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. "Come on."

He took my hand, leading us back to the group. My steps were lighter and I knew, in time, I would be alright. We would be alright. Grief never really ends. I knew that, but I also knew that it did change. It was a place you visited, not a place you lived. I also understood there was no avoiding it, not unless I was willing to give up those I loved. That was the cost of grief.

I'd suffered loss countless times in my life but until this point had never experienced a loss that changed me on a fundamental level. I think it was because I never had the chance to say hello that made the sting of goodbye so visceral. It was the lack of understanding, explanation, and simple unfairness of it all.

If it wasn't for the man in front of me I wasn't sure I would've ever found my way back from the darkness. Sometimes looking on the bright side was impossible. Sometimes you needed someone to sit with you in the dark until you found the strength to face the light.

* * *

 **This chapter was personal for me. I experienced this loss with my first pregnancy so the feelings and issues you see Alex dealing with were my own. Despite the heavy subject matter I sincerely hope this chapter resonated with each of you and did the loss she is suffering justice. We will see Daryl and some of the others deal with the revelation in upcoming chapters.**

 **Thank you all for your support and dedication to this story. It keeps me writing!**


	49. The High Cost of Living

**The High Cost of Living**

"We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen. For what _can_ be seen is temporary, but what _cannot_ be seen is eternal. For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

Gabby's sermon barely registered over the sound of crying and Rick shoveling dirt. I kept my eyes locked on the grave, focusing on the sound of the metal tip digging into the fresh soil.

"We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen."

Rick tossed the dirt into the shallow grave, the soil hitting a body hastily wrapped in an old, white sheet. It should be hitting a coffin, but luxuries like that were a thing of the past.

"For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal."

Sasha stood paralyzed a few feet away from her brother's final resting place. She wasn't crying. She just looked shocked. Her brother's death hadn't sunk in. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Everything I knew about Sasha told me once the loss hit her she would unravel, quickly. It wouldn't be good for us, and it most certainly wouldn't be good for her.

"For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made from hands, eternal in the heavens."

There was a large part of me that wanted to slap a hand over Gabby's mouth to shut him up. God, heaven, things we couldn't see, it all rang hallow. The words seemed to mock us. It was almost impossible to believe in heaven, in God, in a better place after what we'd lived through. The dead ate the living. The living slaughter each other. That was the world now. God may not have killed Tyreese, but he hadn't saved him either. We were on our own.

My eyes slide to Sasha again, and I swallowed hard. She didn't look like a woman comforted by the fact her brother was in heaven. She looked destroyed. First Bob and now Tyreese.

"In the heavens," Gabby finished, closing the tattered Bible.

Rick took a step back, offering the shovel to Glenn who stepped forward with his shoulders hunched, gathering a small amount of soil on the tip of the shovel before tossing it on the body. He handed the shovel to Maggie without a word who repeated the process. One-by-one we all stepped forward, saying our final goodbye.

Merle offered the shovel to Sasha, but she looked at him in confusion. Daryl took the shovel in Sasha's stead, shoveling a pile of dirt onto the body then walking away. My throat constricted when he passed me, the urge to touch him making my fingers tingle, but I let him go without a word or touch. Things between us were uncomfortable at best and awkward at worst. A funeral was no place to rectify that situation, so like every other time in the last few days, I said nothing. I did nothing.

I moved to Sasha side, watching Rick continue to bury Tyreese. Our leader was deeply shaken by the loss. The man had saved his little girl, a debt he would never be able to repay. The only other person still in attendance was Gabby who stood a few feet away, head bowed in prayer. I didn't know why I stayed. Sasha and I weren't close. I wasn't even sure I'd call us friends, but she was suffering, and I didn't want her to do it alone. No one should suffer alone.

"Do you think it's true?" I looked at her, caught off-guard by her question. "That he's in a better place?"

Truthfully, I had no idea. Before the world ended I'd never given much thought to life and death. Dead was dead, living was living, but the world was different now. _I was different_. I wanted to believe in a better place, a place where we all found happiness, peace, even if it was only in death.

"I hope so," I answered honestly.

"Me too." Rick continued to shovel dirt with determination born from a man riddled with guilt that wasn't his to bear. "I was supposed to protect him."

As absurd as that statement sounded it was the truth. Tyreese may have been a mountain of a man, but his sister was the fighter. He struggled constantly with his morality, trying to find a way to survive in a world that forced you to bloodshed.

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do."

Just like I couldn't protect my child she couldn't protect her brother. It was a reality we knew all too well, but constantly tried to circumvent.

She shuddered, "I know." I heard her sniffle, and she swiped an angry hand across her face. "He made me promise once that if…that if…" Her voice hitched and I reached out to grab her hand. "He wanted a Christian burial."

"You gave him that." Her hand shook in mine, and I could tell she was holding something back. "What?"

"It's stupid."

"Tell me."

"He wanted someone to sing Hallelujah." Come again? "It was his favorite song. He made me swear I'd play it his funeral."

"Uh…" I trailed off, unsure how to proceed.

She yanked her hand out of mine, taking a step back. "I never should have agreed to it. He's gone. What he wanted doesn't matter anymore!"

Before I could stop her she turned, striding purposefully away. My heart broke for her, for what she'd lost. I knew what it felt like to burying a sibling. I also knew what it was like to feel that you're failure to protect them led them to their early grave. She was wrong about one thing. What he wanted _did_ matter.

Rick continued to shovel dirt with Gabby standing dutifully nearby. My palms started sweating as I shifted my weight from foot-to-foot. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and told myself if I could do it for Nugget I could do it for Tyreese. My grandmother would call it fate he requested that song. It was my grandfather's favorite. We'd played it at his funeral, albeit a slightly different version.

When I was young the two of would sit on our porch swing every night. He would rock us slowly back-and-forth, strumming on an old guitar while I sang. It was our time together, our escape. It was the only time I remember singing and not being self-conscious. I heard his soft guitar strokes in my mind as clear as I heard the birds chirping in the woods. I hummed the tune I'd memorized, closing my eyes and saying goodbye to a man I'd hardly known, but respected.

 _"I heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music do ya?"_

I pretended like I was back on my porch with my grandfather, the sun setting in distance, the two of us finding solace in the words of a song. I ignored Rick when his shovel stopped halfway to the pile of fresh dirt beside him. I didn't acknowledge Gabby when he took a small step forward like my singing was drawing him closer.

 _"It goes like this fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift. The baffled king composing hallelujah."_

I heard footsteps behind me, but didn't turn around. I opened my eyes and focused on the grave, trying to fulfill a man's last wish. I saw Sasha out of the corner of my eye, could feel her looking at me, but my eyes never strayed from Tyreese. I took a deep breath, hearing the familiar cords in my head.

 _"Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelu-uh-uh-jah."_

Sasha slipped her much smaller hand into mine, and my lips trembled. She squeezed my hand, a silent thank you, and it gave me the encouragement I needed to keep going. I didn't know the words to the original song, only the ones my grandfather and I sang when I was a child. I hoped the remix would meet with approval.

 _"I did my best. It wasn't much. I couldn't feel so I tried to touch. I told the truth, I didn't, come to fool you."_

Suddenly everyone was standing around the grave. Some had their heads bowed in respect. Some held each other with tears streaming down their face. Others stood alone, mourning another friend we lost too soon.

 _"And even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue, but hallelujah."_

Daryl stood in the back, crossbow loaded in case my singing drew any unwanted attention, but he looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time since I told him I lost our child. Even from this distance I could see the tears pooling in his blue eyes. I didn't know if the tears were for Tyreese, our baby, my still healing body, or maybe a combination. I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes locked on him. I wasn't singing for just Tyreese now. I was singing for us all, for everyone we lost, for everyone still living.

 _"Hallelujah. Hallelu-jah-aaa. Hallelu-lujah. Hallelu-uuu-Hallelujah. Hallelujah-aaa-aaa. Hallelu-lujah-ah. Hallelu-uuu-jah-aaa-aaa-aaa—oh, oh, oh. Hallelu-Hallelu-uuu-jah."_

It was silent when I finished, and it made me anxious. I had no idea how to navigate the awkwarkness, but it turned out I didn't have to. Sasha pulled in into a fierce hug, whispering thank you over-and-over, her tears wetting my shirt. She was so small I was forced to crouch over to accommodate the embrace.

"You're welcome," I whispered.

We made our way back to the road where we stashed our last vehicle. We were somewhere in Virginia. It'd been roughly two weeks since we left the hospital in search of sanctuary. We had limited choices after we discovered Noah's community was a bust. Limited choices being we either continued forward or turned back. We may not know what lay ahead of us, but we damn sure knew what lay behind us so we continued to Washington D.C.

"Need food," Daryl mumbled, biting his fingernail.

"And water," Maggie chimed in.

Rick put his hands on his hips as he eyed the woods on either side of the road. We had no food left, and our water supply would be gone by the end of the day.

"I don't want everyone out wondering the woods," he began, "Daryl, Alex and Merle you'll each lead a small group while the rest of us stay here. You need to be quick so travel light. I want everyone back in a few hours. We need to keep moving."

My team consisted of Glenn and Carl. Merle was taking out Noah and Carol while Daryl had Maggie and Sasha. I tied a few empty water bottles onto my pack before slipping it on my shoulders. Glenn was by Maggie, the two talking quietly, and Carl was getting last minute instructions from his dad. This was my first time out since the hospital so it said a lot Rick picked me to lead a team. It said even more he placed his son with me. I made my way over to the Dixon brothers who were ready and waiting.

Daryl eyed me up and down as I approached, but said nothing. Still, the taunt lines of his shoulder and the way he ground his teeth together told me all I needed to know. He didn't want me going.

"I'm takin' the east," Merle informed me. He either didn't feel the tension lingering in the air or chose to ignore it. "You go west. That leaves Darlina with north. Already know there ain't shit back the way we came."

I nodded, eyes shifting to my husband, but he kept his gaze firmly locked on the ground. I couldn't tell if he was pissed, worried, or just pre-menstrual. He'd been distant ever since I told him about the baby. Physically there was never much distance between us, but we hardly spoke, and unless it was absolutely necessary he didn't touch me. I couldn't call him out on it, not without feeling like the biggest hypocrite who ever lived, but the distance was excruciating. I knew he needed time to process what I'd told him, and I understood that. It was the nagging feeling that he held me responsible I couldn't shake.

"Be careful," I said, talking to both of them even though I was staring at Daryl.

I willed him to look at me, speak to me, kiss me, _anything_ , but he simply hefted his crossbow on his shoulder, and muttered a barely audible "you too" then he was gone. My shoulder sagged with disappointment, and a healthy dose of guilt. I rubbed my hands on my face before pulling my ponytail so tight I probably looked five years younger.

"He still ain't talkin' to ya?"

"He talks to me," I defended, cinching the straps on my pack so tight they cut into my shoulders. Merle raised his eyebrows. "Don't gimme that look."

"Then don't lie like a no-legged dog." I huffed in annoyance, pivoting on my heel. I didn't have the emotional bandwidth for this conversation. "Ain't yur fault Firecracker."

I froze with my back to him. How did he know? Better question, _what_ did he know? I turned around slowly, my mouth suddenly dry.

"How did you…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Just cause I talk slow don't mean I'm stupid." He stepped closer so no one would overhear. "The baby didn't stand a chance against that car."

My heart hammered in my chest, all the emotions I was struggling to deal with swirling in my stomach.

"I never should've been there."

He rolled his eyes. "We ain't safe nowhere. Ya know that." The longer this discussion went on the harder it got to breath. "Why don't ya tell me what's really botherin' ya?"

"You mean besides the fact you've suddenly become a redneck Dr. Phil?"

I was deflecting, hoping to drag him off topic with sarcastic taunts. It didn't work.

"Yeah, other than that."

I could have told him a million things to satisfy his curiosity, but the truth tumbled out before I could stop it.

"He blames me," I choked out. If Merle was surprised by the declaration he didn't show it. "He can hardly look at me. He doesn't touch me. I think maybe...maybe he doesn't…love me anymore. That he can't...because all he sees when he looks at me is the woman who failed to protect his child."

The last part stole the air from my lungs. There it was, my greatest fear. Merle closed the distance between us in two large strides, arms going around me just as my first tear fell. My tears soaked his shirt just like Sasha's had soaked mine earlier.

"Ya got it all backwards lil' sister," Merle drawled, holding me close. "He can't look at ya cause all he sees is ya bein' hit by that car. He don't touch ya cause he still sees the bruises and blood coverin' yur body. He don't blame ya. He blames himself. He feels like he failed ya. If he can't protect his wife, his child, then what the hell kinda husband is he?"

I trusted Merle's insight. If anyone knew what was going on with Daryl it was him. My heart ached for my husband even as I struggled to find a way to make it right. Hopefully all he needed was time.

"Uh, Rick said…that well…it's time to go." Noah stuttered, standing to the side awkwardly. I pulled away from Merle, wiping tears from my cheek. "I'm, uh…with you Merle. In your group I mean. Me and Carol."

"Noah," I interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Stop talking."

He looked relived. "Sure thing."

"See ya later Captain Hook."

I chuckled when I heard Merle snap at Noah making the younger man cringe in discomfort. He was certainly going to be baptized by fire today. After saying goodbye to Rick my team made our way into the woods in search of food and water. Glenn couldn't track for shit so his main purpose was a lookout. Carl had been working with the Dixon's and was decent, if not above average. In order to cover more ground I decided to split up, sending Glenn with Carl while I moved further east. We would stay close enough to signal each other with whistles.

An hour later I'd accomplished nothing but furthering my dehydration. The sweltering heat was constant and oppressive, offering no respite as I stalked through the woods looking for any signs of life or water, of which there were none. I'd followed a dry creek bed for half a mile in hopes of finding drinkable water before abandoning the prospect entirely when it ended abruptly.

I stopped, putting my hands on my knees, fighting to keep a level head despite my desperation. I was employing every survival tactic at my disposal, and yet, was still coming up empty. There were no animal tracks in the area so following them to a water source was a no-go. Certain plants and vegetation contained water, but without knowing with absolute certainty what they were we couldn't risk ingesting them for fear of intestinal issues. Transpiration was another option we couldn't employ because we couldn't risk staying in one place for more than a few hours. Other than digging a well, which was ridiculously impractical, we were left with only one option, rain. I glanced skyward and groaned, judging by the clear blue sky that wasn't happening any time soon.

A whistle made all the birds in the immediate area startle, and I stood to my full height, parroting back the tune. Less than a minute later Glenn and Carl appeared, and what little hope I had stashed away plummeting when I saw their empty hands.

"No luck?" It was an unnecessary question. Carl held up a water bottle, and I grimaced. Worms and bugs crawled inside the plastic bottle, and I felt my stomach roll uneasily. "So no."

"It's food."

I eyed the boy skeptically. That was debatable, and we couldn't keep everyone alive with a handful of bugs and worms. Not to mention you'd have better luck getting Nugget to slurp them down than you would me.

"It's getting late. We should head back," Glenn suggested, head tipped back as he eyed the sun moving across the sky.

Trudging through the forest on an empty stomach with a parched throat was agonizing. When we pushed through the last bit of brush onto the road we found everyone waiting by the car. Judging by their dejected expressions and pale faces no one had any luck finding food or water. We were in serious trouble. We could go three weeks without food, but we wouldn't last more than three days without water.

"Nothing?" Rick asked and I nodded my head no. He sighed, ordering everyone back into the van.

We made it less than 20 minutes before the vehicle sputtered to a stop on the road finally out of gas. There wasn't a car in sight so siphoning fuel wasn't an option.

"We're out," Abraham informed the group. "Just like the other one."

"So we walk."

Rick already had the door open and was standing outside holding Nugget. He was trying to stay positive, morale the only thing we could control at this point, but as I glanced at everyone's faces it didn't appear to be helping. We had nearly 40 more miles until we reached the outskirts of D.C., and the prospect of walking that distance with no food, no water, and no hope was a lot to stomach.

"I'll take her," I told Rick, gesturing to Nugget. He smiled gratefully, handing over the baby.

An uneasy feeling slide over my skin, and I suppressed a shudder, casually glancing at our surroundings. I didn't _see_ anything, but I sure as shit _felt_ something. What, I had no idea, but my instincts had saved me more times than I could count so until I could either identify or dismiss the feeling I was keeping an eye out.

No one spoke while we walked, all energy devoted to staying upright and moving forward. I cradled Nugget close, rubbing her back when she cried periodically. She was hungry and thirsty. I propped her up in my arms, offering her a baby bottle partially filled with hot water. My heart broke as I watched her greedily suck down the fluid, her chubby face flushed from the heat. If we didn't find something, and fast, we were dead.

The moans of the walkers trailing behind us was getting louder, the number steadily growing the longer we were out in the open.

"It's getting bigger," I commented, putting Nugget's empty bottle away and propping her up on my hip.

"We're not at our strongest." Rick's statement was putting it mildly. Daryl said nothing and I clamped my lips shut so I didn't say something I'd regret. "We'll get 'em when it's best. High ground, something like that."

"I can handle them now. There's not that many."

"No!" both men barked in unison.

"Jeez guys, don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel?"

I tried not to let the dismissal get under my skin. Rick didn't want anyone taking any unnecessary risks, and Daryl was just being Daryl, stubborn, moody and completely irrational.

"They're not going anywhere. Don't need to risk anyone's safety," Rick continued.

I didn't bother arguing my safety wouldn't be at risk. I'd mowed through bigger herds than the one behind us, but whatever. Nugget squirmed in my arms, grumbling in discomfort.

"She's hungry," Daryl commented, glancing briefly at the child in my arms.

I didn't miss the pain on his face. This could have been us in a few months, if things had been different. I pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came. There was no changing what happened.

"She's OK," Rick said. I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Daryl or himself. "She's gonna be OK."

"We need to find water, food," Daryl said in a monotone voice.

"We'll hit something in the road." Rick glanced towards the heavens, squinting against the sun. "It'll rain sooner or later."

"We can't wait for mother nature," I sighed, looking into the woods. "We need water and quick or people are going to start dropping."

Daryl handed a rifle to Rick, "I'm headed out. See what I can find."

"I'll go too." I was already handed Nugget off when Daryl glanced over his shoulder.

"I got it."

The sharpness in his voice cut me like a knife. I tried to cover the hurt on my face, but Rick saw it, sending me sympathetic smile. I watched Daryl disappear into the wood and my steps slowed until I was in the rear of the ground, Merle falling in step next to me.

"Where's Darlina goin'?"

"Water."

He drug his lower lip between his teeth. "Ya ain't goin' with him?" The answer was fairly obvious, but I nodded no anyway. "I'm tired of this shit."

He was halfway to the woods before understanding dawned in my dehydrated brain.

"Wait." I jogged towards the elder redneck, grabbing his arm. "Merle, no."

"Nah, fuck this. He ain't gonna keep this up."

I pulled on his arm, trying to slow him down, ignoring the concerned looks of the group. I'd worry about my dirty laundry being aired on the side of the road after I made sure Merle didn't murder his brother.

"He needs time," I insisted. "Hell, it took me days to even get out of the van. Leave him be. Please."

Merle rounded on me, pointing a knife stub in my face. "I ain't gonna watch him throw his marriage away cause he's a dumb piece of shit."

His statement threw me. Is that what he was worried about?

"I would never leave him." And I wouldn't, ever.

"Ya say that now, but people can only take so much. I know what he's doin'. I've done it before."

Melinda's name floated through my head. The woman he loved. The woman he drove away because he was too scared to love her back.

I swallowed thickly. "That's not gonna happen to us. I won't let it. I promise."

"Me either."

He pulled out of my grasps, stalking into the woods in search of his brother. I let him go for two reasons. One, I knew short of shooting him I couldn't stop him. Two, I was scared he was right. I was terrified Daryl actually believed I was better off without him.

"Someone's coming back bleeding," Carol commented, guiding me back on the road.

"You say that like it's a good thing."

That was my husband and brother-in-law out there. Either coming back in worse shape than they left was an unappealing prospect.

"It is." I gaped at her, but she only grinned. And people called me crazy. "Daryl needs to feel it. He's not built like me or Merle so until he lets himself feel the loss he'll never be able to move past it."

"All he's going to feel is a black eye."

I didn't disagree with Carol's assessment. As closed off and antagonistic as Daryl was his heart was huge. He felt everything more deeply than anyone I'd ever met. He also suppressed those feelings more than anyone I'd ever met which was a dangerous combination. He was a walking bomb that could explode at any moment.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a chill racing down my spine. I swallowed hard, eyeing the woods to my left and right as I walked next to Carol. There it was again. The feeling we were being watched. This time I was absolutely certain it wasn't just a feeling. There was someone out there. My body shook with a need to spring into action, but surprise was our only advantage at this point, and I refused to give an inch.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up on my anxiety.

"Nothing."

I jogged to catch up with Rick, calling his name, and motioning for him to slow down. The others were so weary they didn't notice the exchange as they kept walking. When I caught up with him I motioned for his water bottle and he frowned.

"We're being watched," I said quietly, clipping the water bottle to my pack, trying to make it appear like I was heading off in search of water. "I'm going to see what I can find."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Do you think not knowing who's following us is a good idea?"

Last time that happened someone ate Bob's leg for dinner.

He grimaced. "Good point." He looked into the woods behind me. "Keep it quiet."

I nodded. "I'm going for water. I'll meet back up with you guys in an hour or so."

Once I was deep in the woods I doubled back looking for tracks. It didn't take long to find a set, male judging by the shoe size and the depressing in the soil. He'd been following us most of the day, but the question was why?

About half a mile later my gut clenched when the footprints stopped next to a set of tire tracks. Based on the impressions in the ground the man following us paced back-and-forth for several minutes before continuing back towards the road while the SUV headed in the opposite direction.

Deciding the car was the greater of the two threats I followed the tire tracks, careful to stay hidden. I heard the engine running long before I spotted the large Four Runner idling in the woods. I crawled on my stomach to the top of a hill about 100 yards away from the vehicle, using the scope on my rifle to get a closer look. There was a lone occupant in the driver seat who was impatiently drumming his finger against the steering while he waited. He looked to be in his early 30's with sandy blonde hair and a long, sharp nose. From what little I could see he looked well fed and relatively clean.

The fact he kept the engine running for no other reason than air conditioning was more telling than any of my other observations combined. He wasn't worried about needlessly burning fuel which meant he had access to it, lots of it. They had to have some kind of set-up that wasn't too far away that afforded them that type of luxury. We didn't have food or water, you could forget about bathing, clean clothes, and gas.

I heard leaves crunching and scanned the woods trying to locate the source. I spotted a man who looked just as well off as the one waiting in the SUV. He was clean shaven and dressed like he was an encyclopedia salesman, complete with an awful stripped shirt tucked into pristine looking dress pants topped off with a leather belt. I swore to all things holy if he was hiding a sweater vest under his wind breaker I was putting a bullet between his eyes no matter the fallout with Rick.

I got to my feet, staying low and using the dense trees surrounding the SUV to my advantage. I crept from one tree to another until I was as close as I could get without formally introducing myself. Neither man noticed even though I was less than 20 feet away, and I rolled my eyes at their nonchalance. Clearly their experience post-apocalypse had been decidedly different than ours.

"What do you think?" the man in the car asked.

"I think they have potential."

Potential, potential for what?

"Are you going to keep following them?"

The man on foot nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "This group is different."

"Different how?"

"They're survivors."

The men exchanged words I couldn't hear before the man behind the wheel said. "I'm just saying they're dangerous. Be careful."

You bet your starched pants we were dangerous.

"I will. Make sure you stay back, a couple broke off from the group and are in the woods."

"Should I be worried?"

Only if you valued your life.

"I'm not going to lie, they all look like they can handle themselves, but the three out here are by far the scariest."

"Crap." The guy in the car let his head fall against the steering wheel. "Please tell me it's not the rough looking guy with the crossbow, or the insane one who's missing a hand." When his counterpart didn't say anything he lifted his head. "Oh jeez, it's the scary woman with the bright red hair, isn't it?"

The one on foot smiled sweetly trying to ease his companion's fears. I'll say this, their overall survival skills might be abysmal, but at least their stranger danger senses were on point. These guys hadn't seen an inkling of our awesomeness because all we'd done the past few days was walk down the road, but they still knew to be weary of us. Lord help them if I decided to stop playing hide-and-seek.

"At least her flaming red hair will be easy to spot."

They both laughed, and I had the sudden urge to strangle them just to prove a point. Instead I backtracked towards the hill, silently making my way back to the road. I had no idea how long I'd been gone, but it was long enough that if I didn't show, and soon, I was likely to have a rough looking guy with a crossbow and an insane guy missing a hand all up in my Kool-Aid.

Since I knew where our stalkers were there was no need to take the long way back. When I got close to the road I whistled, waiting a beat before emerging from the tree line so I could avoid an arrow in the ass, but was still met with every weapon we owned pointed directly at my head.

"I surrender," I deadpanned, holding my hands high.

You could call us crazy, but you couldn't call us careless.

Everyone was in the process of gathering up their meager belongings. It wasn't until I got closer that I noticed the smoldering remains of a fire and people chewing. Daryl wordlessly offered me a charred piece of meat that I eyed skeptically. He narrowed his eyes, daring me to argue with him. I took the mystery meat because I didn't have the calories to argue with him. He said nothing, assessing me critically from head to toe. He could look until the cows came home. Other than being sweatier than I was an hour ago I was fine. It was clear he came to the same conclusion a half-second later when he grumbled inaudibly in redneck, and stomped off down the road. I sighed watching him leave; somewhat shocked he looked no worse for the wear after his "conversation" with Merle.

I sniffed the meat trying to identify what the hell I was holding. It didn't look like chicken, didn't look like red meat, and I'd eaten enough squirrels to know this wasn't a furry woodland creature.

"Did you have a dog when you were a kid?" Rick questioned.

"No. Why?" His lips thinned in distaste, looking at the uneaten meat in my hand. No way. "You guys killed Lassie?"

"More like Cujo."

I swallowed hard, trying to work up the courage to eat the food I desperately needed. "Does it taste like chicken?"

"Taste like burnt dog." Thanks for that buddy. I closed my eyes, shoved the food in my mouth. It was better than worms. "Find anything?"

I felt nauseous as I chewed and swallowed, but not because I was eating Lassie. I felt nauseous because Lassie tasted good as fuck. Christ, we needed to remedy our food and water situation before drinking our own urine became appealing. I waited until the group was a few feet away before I answered his question.

"Two guys. One's following on foot close to the road while the second stays with a vehicle further back."

He ground his teeth together. "Armed?"

"Not that I saw, but there was a lot I couldn't see."

"Any idea what they want?"

"Directions?" He didn't laugh. The world goes to shit and suddenly everyone loses their sense of humor. "Seems like they're just following us. Why is anyone's guess, but I can tell you they aren't doing it because they want something from us."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, looking in the woods for our uninvited guests.

"Well, for starters we don't have shit." He raised a single eyebrow in that creepy way of his. "Don't gimme the cop eyebrow. We have no food now that Lassie's gone, and a half full water bottle to share between us. These guys are well fed, clean, and not carrying any visible weapons. They have a safe place somewhere with resources."

"So why follow us?" He tensed like an attack was imminent.

I shrugged, "That's the million dollar question."

"You don't seem worried."

"You wouldn't either if you saw these guys." I'd seen Sunday school teachers who were more intimidating. "I'll keep my eye on them."

We had bigger fish to fry than a couple of wierdos following us for apparently no reason. We caught up to the group, Rick striding towards the front as I hung towards the back with Merle. I didn't see Daryl anywhere. Speaking of fish to fry.

"Where is he?"

"Dumbass went that'a way."

Merle waved his hand at the entire Eastern seaboard so finding my husband should be no problem. He was somewhere between Florida and Maine.

"I see you still have all your teeth. Good job Captain Hook."

He nudged me with his shoulder. "I'm capable of civilized conversation."

"I'm going after him," I declared, already halfway in the woods.

"Firecracker." I stopped, turning to look at him. "He ain't in a good way."

Tell me something I didn't know. I nodded for lack of anything meaningful to say. Everyone who'd been within a mile of Daryl the past few weeks knew he was struggling. Unlike the rest of the group his struggles had little to do with our imminent demise.

It was disturbingly easy to find his trail. Either he was seriously off his game, or he wasn't even trying to cover his tracks. Both prospects were equally troubling.

I found him sitting against a tree a few yards away from a barn. He didn't hear me approaching, another sign he was locked inside his own head. I observed him for a moment, the slump in his shoulder, the way he hung his head momentarily only to look up towards the sky with tears welling in his eyes. Everything in his demeanor screamed grief, suffering, anguish, and it gutted me.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, searching through his diminishing supply in search of the least damaged one. When he finally lit it he only took one deep inhale before rolling the cigarette in his fingers, eyes a million miles away. I was moving before I even knew why, a strangled gasp sticking in my throat when I saw him press the burning embers into his hand.

"Stop!" I fell to my knees in front of him, batting the cigarette out of his hand. "What are you doing?" He didn't say anything, didn't look at me. He just sat there, head bowed, defeated. "Look at me." Nothing. "Daryl, please, look at me."

When he still didn't move I put my hands on either side of his head, tilting his face up. My heart literally broke when I saw tears trailing down his dirty face, more building in his beautiful eyes. I moved closer, keeping his head in my hands. Give me walkers, give me pain, give me death. I would accept all of it willingly if it meant I never had to see him like this.

"It's not your fault." I tasted the salt of my own tears on my tongue though I hadn't realized I was crying. He shook his head firmly, blinking rapidly like it might somehow stop his own. "It's not your fault."

"I didn't protect ya."

"It's not your fault."

"Ya almost died."

"It's not your fault."

"The baby, our kid, they killed it, and I couldn't do nothin' to stop 'em."

He wasn't hearing me and words simply weren't cutting it. I curled my hands in his vest, pulling him to me, and pressing my lips to his. He choked on a sob even as his arms went around my waist, holding onto me like a drowning man in rough seas. I kissed him like I'd never kissed him before, saying everything with the kiss he refused to hear with words.

When we finally broke apart, foreheads resting against each other, we were both breathing hard. I stroked his hair, trailing my fingertips down his striking face. Oh how I'd missed this. The feel of his lips on mine. The way his stubble rubbed against my skin. How his heart pounded beneath my palm.

"Do you trust me?" His eyes flew to mine even, head nodding emphatically. "Then trust me now…it's not your fault."

He blew out a harsh breath, collapsing into my body as I wrapped my arms around his much larger frame. He buried his head against my chest, crying hard. I held him like a mother holds a child, stroking his hair, and whispering words of comfort. I rested my chin on his head, crying right along with him as we mourned the loss of a child.

"I love ya Red."

It wasn't until I heard him say the words that had become my entire reason for living that I knew everything would be alright. We still had a long way to go, and the road certainly wouldn't be easy, but we would get there eventually. We would do it the same way we did everything else, together.

"I love you too Legolas."

* * *

 **I spy with my little eye...Aaron and Eric doing a terrible job of "recruiting". LOL! Are you excited we are getting close to Alexandria? A lot happens. A lot changes. It's definitely a transition time for the group, and it will be interesting to see how they adapt and adjust. What are you most looking forward to seeing?**

 **Thank you all for the overwhelming support on the last chapter. I am happy it resonated with so many of you. My own experience was some time ago and I now have 4 healthy children so I am one of the lucky ones. Your kind words were amazing. Thank you!**

 **BTW, the song Alex is singing is Hallelujah (obviously) and I imagine her sounding like Tori Kelly. Check out the lyric video on YouTube if you want to hear it. Amazing.**


	50. Friend or Foe

**Friend or Foe**

When we emerged from the woods everyone was standing around a bunch of water jugs that were lined up neatly in the middle of the road. Rick handed Daryl a note before his eyes slide to me, a grim scowl on his haggard face. I leaned over Daryl's shoulder reading the big, block letters scrawled on the paper, _**FROM A FRIEND**_.

"It's them," I said, confirming Rick's unanswered question.

Daryl immediately went for his crossbow, eyes searching the woods, but he wouldn't find anything. They weren't nearby. Even if they were I doubted they meant to harm us. Why leave us water, something that would save our lives, if they wanted us dead? If that was their end game they could just sit back and wait another hour while nature took care of it.

"Them?" Daryl's eyes blazed with questions, and I shifted closer to Rick. "What the hell is goin' on Red?"

"I'm with Darlina on this one," Merle agreed, appearing out of thin air next to his brother.

Rick glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the group, rubbing his beard.

"We're being followed." The brother's instantly tensed, going back-to-back, waiting for the attack they feared was imminent. "Easy brother, I don't think they want to hurt us."

Merle scoffed, "Oh really? And what makes ya say that Officer Friendly?"

"The water sitting in the middle of the road," I answered. Merle shot me a nasty glare I countered. "Will you two settle down, you're making everyone else nervous?"

And they were making me downright twitchy.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, but kept his eyes alert. "How long ya know?"

"Day, give or take." His steel, blue eyes were now boring into my skull. "There's two of them. One tracks us on foot while the other stays behind in a vehicle."

"I say we hunt 'em down, and beat the shit outta 'em 'till they tell us what the hell they want."

I pointed a finger at my brother-in-law. "This is why you have no friends."

"Don't start with me Firecracker," he snarled, stepping into my personal space, and pointing his knife stub in my face. "What gives ya the right to keep that kinda information to yurself?"

I hadn't kept it to myself. I told Rick, but that wasn't the point. The point at this particular moment was his stub knife dangerously close to my cornea. I pulled a knife from my sheath, bringing it up slowly until it was inches away from his neck.

"Keep pointing that knife at me and it'll be you who gets the shit beat out of 'em."

Daryl stepped in-between us, putting a hand on his brother's chest and pushing him back.

"Enough," Rick barked. "It was my call. I told her not to say anything."

With that he turned around, walking back to the group who looked downright perplexed at our little exchange. Merle muttered something under his breath then lowered his stub knife. Only then did I put mine away, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

"He's got a point," Daryl said, shoulder brushing mine as he continued to scan the woods.

"I didn't know anything for sure until today. I felt…off…like someone was watching us." Daryl's eyebrows furrowed. He was well acquainted with my _"feelings"_. "I found them right before you guys ate Lassie for lunch."

He squeezed my shoulder, the corners of his mouth tipping up in a barely there smile. It was his way of saying while he didn't necessarily like it, he understood.

"Come on."

We joined the group that was still debating the pros and cons of drinking the water left by an unknown source.

"But I, for one, would like to think it's from a friend."

I shook my head. Eugene had the strangest speaking cadence I'd ever heard. Did he do it on purpose or was it natural? He sounded like he was reading from the pages of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

"What if it isn't? What if they put something in it?" Carol warned.

Eugene bent down, grabbing a water bottle and hastily unscrewing the cap. There group collectively gasped in fear. Daryl even took a step forward, ready to stop him, but I didn't move a muscle. I didn't think the water was poisoned, but on the off chance it was I was willing to let Eugene take one for the team. Call it penance for lying about the cure.

"Eugene!" Apocalypse Barbie shrieked.

"What are you doing, dude?" Tara asked, clearly nervous.

"Quality assurance."

Ariel took one gigantic step forward, which equated to 15 normal steps, and slapped the water bottle out of his hand. He glowered at the man he'd once risked his life to protect for a lie, and Eugene's eyes dropped to the ground in shame.

"We can't," Rick told the fake scientist.

The sky rumbled and I looked up. The huge, white clouds blanketing the sky had turned dark, obscuring the sun from view. Shadows fell over us, a glorious reprieve from the sweltering heat, but it was the booming roll of thunder that made me swallow hard. Then I felt it, a single drop of water on my face. I spread my arms wide, laughing when the heaven's opened up like a bathtub overflowing.

Others joined in, laughing, crying, hugging, our heads tilted back, mouths opened wide. Tara and Apocalypse Barbie were even lying on the ground enjoying the impromptu bath. The only person unaffected by the rain effectively saving our lives was Sasha who continued to scowl, her dead gaze staring straight ahead.

I quickly unhooked the water bottles hanging on my pack, setting them on the ground to collect the rain water. When I stood up I was engulfed in Daryl's arms. I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying, but I squeezed him tight, burying my head in the crook of his neck. His arms securely wrapped around me made me feel safe. His musky scent was comforting. I'd missed this, missed him.

"We're gonna make it," I whispered and I felt him nod, his arms tightening.

I saw Merle standing a few feet away, rubbing his hand on his face, trying to wash away the dirt. I held one arm out, gesturing with my hand for him to come over. He shuffled to us, trying not to appear too eager, but when he got close Daryl extended an arm as well. I swear I saw tears in the older redneck's eyes when he put an arm on both our shoulders, the three of us bowing our heads, foreheads touching.

"We're gonna make it," I repeated.

"Damn straight."

Merle and Daryl spoke in unison and I snorted, curling my hands into their shirts. These two people meant everything to me. They were my family.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry for shutting them both out after the hospital.

Sorry for not telling them about our stalkers.

Sorry for threatening Merle even though he totally deserved it.

"Love ya Red," Daryl declared.

"Me too." I turned to Merle, eyebrows raised. "A platonic, the other way kinda makes me wanna yack, sorta love."

I laughed, "Me too Captain Hook. Me too."

"Everybody, the bags. Anything you can find," Rick instructed, already pulling out water bottles, bowls, and buckets to catch water. "Come on."

A loud clap of thunder rattled directly above us followed closely by a long, crackling streak of lightening. Nugget wailed, scared of the sound, and not liking the rain one bit. Carl tried to shield her using his hat, but the rain was relentless. If anything it was raining harder, and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. I turned around, looking at the sky in the distance, cocking my head to the side. The previously gray clouds had taken on a yellow-greenish hue that made my stomach clench in fear. Clouds were supposed to be white and fluffy not green and menacing. Thunder boomed overhead so loud it made my teeth rattle, and I flinched, stepping closer to Daryl.

"Let's keep moving!" Rick yelled over the storm.

I grabbed Daryl's vest. "The barn!"

He nodded, yelling at Rick. "There's a barn!"

"Where?!"

We led the group back to the small barn in the woods where I found Daryl. The rain pelted us from all angles aided by gusts of wind that were so strong they threatened to knock us off our feet. A few of us kept watch outside while a group cleared the barn.

"I didn't know there were tornadoes in Georgia!" I screamed to Merle over the howling wind.

"This ain't a tornado!" A particularly nasty clap of thunder drew our attention to the sky. My eyes went wide watching the clouds twist and turn like water circling a toilet bowl. " _Now that's_ _a tornado_!"

Fucking hell.

Rick stepped outside the barn, shielding his face from the storm while he gave us the all clear. We pushed into the relative safety of the barn which was to say it offered no real protection save keeping us dry, kind of. If a tornado really did touchdown this pile of rotten wood and rusty nails wasn't going to do shit except collapse or impale us.

Most of the group took refuge on the far side of the barn since it had the least amount of holes in the roof. Rick built a blazing fire, talking quietly while a handful slept a few feet away. Only Sasha and Abraham sat apart from everyone else, both sulking in depression for entirely different reasons. I bypassed Sasha on my way to the door. I didn't have any words that would ease the passing of her brother or her boyfriend, and even if I did the venomous glare permanently etched on her face was a gentle reminder to steer clear. I _did_ stop next to the giant red-head, looking down at him while he took another healthy swig of liquor.

"Want some?" he offered.

"I'm driving." He snorted, chugging another gallon. "You got a plan once that's done."

I pointed at the tiny bottle of booze he was attempting to drown in. If his goal was to numb himself to the pain it was a solid plan, and I would know. My old man lived his entire life at the bottom of a bottle. Problem was it only worked so long as you had a bottle to climb into. That was a really small bottle, and there was nothing small about Ariel.

"Same plan we all got."

"And that is?"

"Die."

I shook my head in disappointment. "You're better than that…better than this."

"What the fuck do you know?"

I snorted, "Really?"

I was probably the only person left in this world who did understand what he was going through. There was a point in time where we held the same occupation. I knew he was pissed about Billy Ray Cyrus lying to him, but that was his own damn fault. Ariel was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He hadn't seen through the lie because he didn't want to. He needed something to live for, something to make this all worth it, and a "cure" had been perfect. That was gone now, and he was too blind to see there were two reasons for him to get his shit together sitting less than five feet away staring at him.

"Get your shit together Ariel. Those two following you around like lost, little, puppies depend on you."

"Fuck you."

I slapped the bottle out of his hand, a few drop of the amber liquid spilling onto the hay. "Fuck you right back asshole."

I left before he could respond, heading to the barn door. I didn't know why Ariel's behavior bothered me. Maybe it was because he reminded me a little of myself. Maybe it was because he was giving up. Maybe it was because he had alcohol and I didn't.

The double doors of the barn were rattling, the howling wind outside threatening to rip the fragile structure straight off the hinges. Flashes of lighting intermittently illuminated the dingy barn followed closely by loud crashes of thunder that shook the termite infested building.

I peeked through the slats in the doors, but couldn't see a damn thing before they slammed shut, wind blowing through the drafty structure. Turning to my left I scaled a ladder that led to a narrow loft where a small, rectangular hole was cut in the wood serving as a makeshift window.

"What the hell ya doin'?"

I looked down at Merle, "Exploring."

He nodded, eyeing the loft with skepticism as I tentatively placed one foot then another on the old, wet wood.

"Shit's rotten. Better be careful."

This _was_ me being careful. I pressed my back against the wall, having to bend down slightly due to the angle of the roof. I was hoping the wood was more structurally sound near the edges, but even in my head that logic didn't hold much water.

"What's everybody else doing?"

I didn't really care, but I needed something to distract myself. I could feel the warped wood bending and sagging under my weight. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and I cursed my inability to find my Zen. Now would be a perfect time to sit around and listen to Rick pontificate.

"Sittin' 'round bein' butt hurt."

I chuckled, sounded right. It was hard to keep your eye on the prize when life constantly took a shit in your backyard. We were out of food, low on water, and trapped in a building constructed completely out of tetanus while Mother Nature flexed her formidable muscles. Walking for days on end may suck, but at least it gave us something to focus on other than our misery. Waiting out this storm with nothing to occupy our minds was going to be challenging.

"See anythin'?"

Rain pelted my face when I peered through the window, and I ground my teeth in frustration. Naturally, the second I climb up here the lightening decided to take a break, and I squinted in vain against the darkness.

"I can't see shit."

There was an earsplitting clap of thunder that made me recoil, and I stepped back instinctively. My boot went right through the wood causing me to yelp while I grabbed onto the window sill to stop my fall. I pulled my foot out, my heart thumping in my chest.

"Told ya it was rotten."

"Yes, thank you Captain Obvious."

"The hell she doin' up there?" Daryl asked his brother.

"You know I can hear you right?"

They both ignored me.

"Her spidey sense is trippin' again. Tryin' to see what the fuck's out there."

I rolled my eyes at Merle's explanation, scanning the area surrounding the barn. A brilliant streak of lightening raced across the inky, black sky illuminating the immediate area. Where I could previously see nothing but darkness I could now see everything. My mouth went dry and my stomach bottomed out when I saw what was headed our way.

Walkers.

Dozens and dozens of walkers.

"Daryl, the door!" I screamed above the noise of the violent storm.

He didn't hesitate, dropping his crossbow and running for the double doors. He looked between them quickly, eyes going wide when he saw the horde lumbering out of the woods heading straight for us. He pushed both doors closed, yelling for his brother to help. Forgoing the ladder I jumped from the loft, tucking into a roll when my feet hit the ground before popping back up and slamming my back against the door. I dug my feet into the muddy soil, bracing for the impact I knew was coming while Daryl tried to fasten the chain tighter.

The growls of the dead reached us before they did. Daryl turned around, copying my stance as he braced his back against the doors, arms over his head pushing. Merle pressed a shoulder into the other door, digging his boots a few inches into the ground. The herd hit the door with enough force to send me stumbling forward. I recovered quickly, shoving my shoulder into the door, and cursing when my feet slipped in the mud coated floor.

"Push!" Merle hollered.

"Aagghh!" I bellowed, my legs burning as another wave of walkers charged the doors.

Maggie and Beth ran to the door, helping Merle keep his side closed while Daryl and I struggling with ours. Sasha joined in, shoving on the lower half of the door directly beside me. The thunder continued to clap, lightening flashing directly after signaling the storm was literally on top of us. The walkers outside snarled and I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the pain of nails digging into my back.

One-by-one the others came as we tried to use our collective strength to hold off the walkers. If they got inside we were dead, plain and simple. I could scarcely breathe watching Carl stand a few feet away, eyes swiveling between the door and his baby sister. When he bent down, laying her gently on the ground, the infant wailed in protest, and I pushed against the door with renewed force.

I turned around, bracing my palms flat against the rough wood. The walkers continued to shove from the other side causing the delicate wood to warp under the exertion. My eyes met Daryl's just as a flash of lightening erupted overhead making his face glow. I could see the muscles in his arms bulging, proof of his struggle. His blue eyes were dark with desperation, mouth pulled into a thin line. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cool temperatures brought on by the storm. Something crashed against the door and I was thrown back, my feet slipping out from under me. Daryl's reached down, pulling me up while still straining to keep the door closed. I rammed the barn door with my shoulder, ignoring the splinters with a frantic scream.

The storm raged.

The walkers pushed.

We struggled to keep them out.

I heard praying, cussing, shouting, and even crying. The wind picked up outside, a terrible noise so loud I wanted to cover my ears, but couldn't. A waterfall of whooshing air made the ground rumble, and the barn swayed back-and-forth precariously. It sounded like there was a freight train tearing the woods apart just on the other side of the door. There were so many sounds happening simultaneously it was impossible to pick out one particular noise. It was like driving down the highway with your window down and head hanging out times 1,000. It was a cacophony of chaos that caused fear to spike through my veins. You could feel the air pressure changing, expanding and contracting so ferociously it felt like every molecule was electrically charged. The hair on my arms stood up as static electricity filled the air, my ears filling with pressure to the point of pain until they finally popped.

Suddenly there was a terrible gust of wind so violent, so powerful, my bones bowed to the point of breaking and I cried out, curling into myself in an effort to find some relief. As suddenly as it started it stopped. The abrupt change of pressure on the opposite side of the door caused our group to collectively stumble, everyone panting hard. We stood back, looking at each other in confusion.

"What the hell was that?" Glenn asked, arms around Maggie who looked far too pale.

"The hand of God."

I rolled my eyes at Gabby's explanation, stepping further away from the door.

"Thank you Jesus," Ariel snorted, walking away.

Everyone slowly dispersed, making their way back to the fire or a corner to sleep for a few hours. We'd dodged a bullet or more aptly, the hand of God, but tomorrow would bring more life threatening challenges so we needed to be ready for them. I followed Daryl, sinking down to the ground, my back against the wall so I had a clear view of the front door. The hand of God may have relocated the walkers to another county, but I wasn't convinced more wouldn't be stopping by for a visit.

"Get some sleep Red."

"How could anyone sleep after that?" A loud snore drew our attention a few feet away to an already comatose Merle. "I mean besides him."

"Ain't nothin' else ya can do." I hummed in agreement, but didn't move, staring at the door like it might explode open at any moment, flooding the barn with walkers. "Ain't no more out there."

I ignored our Vulcan mind meld. "For now."

He fished something out of his pack, and I leaned over. "What is that?"

"Music box."

"Maybe I should rephrase. Why do you have a music box?"

"Carl gave it to Maggie." I looked at him expectantly. That didn't answer my question, and he knew it. The corners of his lips twitched in amusement at my agitation. "It don't work. Got some dirt in it."

He deftly moved his hands around the tiny music box and I smiled.

"You're going to fix it." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. I leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. "You old softy."

"Stop."

"I think it's really sweet." And I did.

"Ain't nothin'."

Yes it was. He was fixing the music box because Maggie had one like it when she was a child. Her mother gave it to her. She hide her disappointment fairly well when she opened the pink box earlier and nothing happened, but Daryl saw it just as I had. He was fixing it for no other reason than to make her smile. He was trying to give her a small piece of her old life back. That was what made it such a big deal. It meant we were still us. We were still human. The world might be full of dead people walking and living people who tried to kill you, but despite all that there was still good left.

"Yes it is," I said, stretching out beside him with my head in his lap.

"Night Red. Love ya."

I smiled, "I love you too Merida."

I only meant to sleep for an hour, two tops, but when I opened my eyes it was early the next morning. Daryl and Maggie were talking quietly when I sat up. I noticed Sasha lying apart from the others, curled up on a bed of hay and sighed. When I stood up their eyes followed me, and I smiled.

"Ladies room." Maggie chuckled, hands holding a small, pink box. My face softened when I looked at my husband. He shrugged, ignoring Maggie's obvious gratitude. "Get some sleep."

"We've got it," Maggie assured him.

He pushed my pack forward, settling down to rest, and I walked off, carefully stepping around prone legs and hands as I made my way out. The barn door creaked when I pushed it open just enough to slide out, and my mouth went dry when I saw more than a couple planks splintered. That was how close we came to death, a few more walkers or even a few more seconds and those boards would have shattered completely, and that would have been it, game over.

Outside I stood paralyzed for a moment, taking in the utter devastation.

Huge tree roots were completely uprooted, the trees themselves blown over and snapped in half like they were nothing more than match sticks. The strong winds stripped the bark clean off the trunks before tossing them around like children's toys.

The path of the tornado was easily 20 feet wide, passing only a few feet from the barn. I was by no means a storm chaser, but based on the blockbuster movie Twister this had to be at least an F3. It took a lot of force to completely displace huge, solid, 50 year-old trees like you were merely redecorating.

Walkers snarled and groaned, impaled on tree branches and crushed by flying debris. There were body parts lying strewn about, an arm here, a leg there. A few were missing the entire bottom half of their body while others the exact opposite.

It looked like a war zone and I would know.

"Damn."

I cautiously maneuvered my way through the obstacle course, careful to avoid walkers, marveling at the destruction capability of Mother Nature. Twenty feet, that was how close the Hand of God came to introducing himself.

I made my way deeper into the woods, the weather this morning serene compared to the intense storm we battled the previous night. The sun was out, a few clouds dotting the cerulean sky. The air was heavy with moisture; a dense pressure sitting on top of us that was a welcomed change to the oppressive heat that preceded it.

I finished quickly, intending to make my way back to the barn and hopefully a few more minutes of sleep, but froze when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. My PPQ was in my hand before I was consciously aware of it as I crouched down, slipping behind a tree.

Our uninvited guests were back.

I held my breath, listening and then…there, directly ahead of me, someone walking. I moved silently, following the sound of their sloppy steps as they inadvertently stepped on every twig and piece of debris on the ground. I wasn't surprised when I saw the familiar wind breaker, stripped shirt, and pristine dress pants standing only a few feet away.

I stayed hidden behind a tree, watching our stalker as he observed Maggie and Sasha. The two were sitting on a log, watching the rising sun. I couldn't hear what the eldest Greene daughter was saying, but I saw the music box she handed to Sasha.

I turned my attention back to our stalker, creeping forward while he eyed the pair. He looked nervous, constantly adjusting the straps on his backpack and shifting his weight. I saw no visible weapons and that made me instantly suspicious. No one traveled without some kind of protection. Hell, even Nugget had a knife.

This little song and dance had gone on long enough. I was willing to let them follow as long as they made no move against us _and_ kept their distance. He wasn't doing either. I moved forward, positioning myself behind him. He never heard me coming, never suspected anything was amiss, and it made me furious. How could someone this careless, this unprepared, still be alive?

I knew the second he decided it was time to make his big entrance because he took a deep breath and held it in for a second before exhaling slowly. Sasha and Maggie were on their feet, backs turned to the danger they didn't know lurked only a few feet away. He stood to his full height, rolling his shoulders, intending to follow them, but the barrel of my PPQ pressing against the back of his head stopped him in his tracks.

"Top of the morning to you."

He froze, hands raised, body shaking in fear, and I amended my previous thought. Maybe he wasn't a complete idiot after all.

"Crap."

* * *

 **Ready or not, here comes Alexandria.**


	51. Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine

**Show Me Yours and I'll Show You Mine**

"Take your pack off slowly and toss it in front of you then put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers," I commanded. "You make any sudden moves, or piss me off, and you can cancel Christmas."

He did as I asked without hesitation. "There's really no need for this."

"On your knees."

"I'm a friend."

I rolled my eyes, stepping forward and patting him down. I found a small knife attached to his belt at his back and removed it with a head shake. It was a glorified Swiss Army knife. The weapon was essentially useless unless I was a tin can. You'd need to get up close and personal to cause any damage, and something told me this guy didn't do up close and personal. I pocketed the baby knife, slowly walking in a circle until I was standing in front of him. His eyes went wide when he saw me and he swallowed hard.

"Not who you were hoping for?" I smiled, sitting down on an uprooted tree.

I opened up his pack, upending it and inspecting the contents. Water, food, a notepad and pen, medical supplies, an envelope, a flare gun and a jar full of what looked like…applesauce?

"I was hoping to speak to the man in charge. Rick, right?"

I could tell from his tone he was expecting me to be shocked by his statement, but he was going to have to try harder than that to impress me.

"You have to get through me first." I picked up the flare gun, eyebrows raised. "You don't need this. He stays so close you could probably just shout and he'd hear you. Assuming he can stand to be without air conditioning. Idling engines are loud, don't you think?"

"What…"

I ignored his surprise, picking up the envelope and thumbing through the pictures. One was of a wall that was easily 15 or 20 feet high, reinforced with 12-foot-wide slabs of solid steel. The next was from inside the compound and showed a sprawling community that looked like it was dreamt up by Bob Ross, _"That's a crooked tree. We'll send him to Washington"_. Insert obligatory laughs here.

"I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot," he laughed uncomfortably, "My name's Aaron…"

"You've been following us for what…two, three days now?" His mouth dropped open, but he nodded yes. "And in that time have I ever displayed any behavior that would lead you to believe I give a flying fuck what your name is?" He shook his head no. "Right, so here's how this is gonna work, you're going to start talking, and if I don't like what you say I'm going to put a bullet in your brain, and then go find your friend and put a bullet in _his_ brain. Do we understand each other?"

"Y-Y-Yes," he stuttered.

"Good. Start talking."

I waved the gun at the empty space between us by way of an invitation.

"I'm a recruiter…for a community called…uh, Défenseur. My job is to find people, good people, to bring back. Eric watches my back and protects me if needed." I gave him a drool look and he licked his lips. Who protected Eric? "We watch for a while to make sure the people are safe and then we offer to bring them to back where our leader decides if they can stay."

Good lord, if he and Eric were the best recruiters this community had to offer it was a wonder they had any members.

"Why us?"

"You're good people and you're survivors."

Good people, debatable. Survivors, unquestionable.

"How far?"

He swallowed hard, "We could be there by lunch."

I took a deep breath, eyeing the man on his knees in the mud. So far everything he said was true, but bringing him back to the barn meant risking the lives of people I loved.

He pressed his lips together, probably to keep from saying something that would earn him a bullet to his cranium. With each second that passed his face got a little paler, and I knew he was keenly aware I was deciding his fate.

"What's to stop me from killing you both and taking your little community?"

His mouth dropped opened and he sputtered a few times in shock. Obviously he hadn't considered that outcome.

"Well…I mean…you couldn't…there's a lot of us and…" I waited patiently, body relaxed even as I held a gun on him. "You wouldn't do that." When I gave him a lopsided smile he shrunk back. "Would you?"

I tipped my head back, laughing. He may have watched us for days, but he still didn't know jack about us.

"On your feet Aaron," I ordered, standing up. He hesitated, eyes wide. I gestured with my PPQ and he slowly stood. When he kept his hands behind his head I rolled my eyes. "Pick up your shit, quickly. I've been gone so long Katniss and Captain Hook are bound to have their panties in a twist."

I was surprised they hadn't tracked me down.

"Katniss and Captain Hook?" he questioned, pausing with his hand halfway to the jar of applesauce.

I grinned, "Rough looking guy with a crossbow and the insane one missing a hand."

He gaped at me, but whether it was from what awaited him back at the barn or the fact I'd been close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation was a toss-up. If he thought meeting me was scary he was in for a rough morning. Nothing said nice to meet you like an arrow to the ass.

"Oh shit."

I pushed him forward, grinning at his discomfort.

"My thoughts exactly. You're lucky I'm the one who found you or else the conversation would've been much shorter." And more painful.

We walked back towards the barn, Aaron in front of me, hands held high with my weapon pointed at the back of his head. He made no move to escape, retaliate, or otherwise which was his first smart move since he started tracking us. He had zero chance of escape, retaliation was downright laughable which left his only viable option as his backup rescuing him, and we both knew that wasn't happening.

"If I ask you a question will you shoot me?"

"Depends on the question." His shoulders stiffened slightly and I rolled my eyes. You'd think as a recruiter he'd be use to people threatening to kill him. "Relax man or it's gonna be a long day."

He glanced at me over his shoulders, sweat pouring down his face. "What did you do before this?"

"What do _you_ think I did?"

"This is why I was asking if you'd shoot me."

I snorted, "I promise not to shoot you for trying to guess my former occupation."

I ignored the pang of grief that swelled in my chest the game elicited along with the boy who created it.

"OK, well then I'd have to go with…" he trailed off.

"Don't pussy out now Aaron."

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have a crazy, ninja-looking-assasin aiming a gun at you."

"Is that an official guess?"

He shook his head, a nervous laugh spilling from his lips.

"No, of course not, that's just…" I smirked even though he couldn't see it. He had no idea how right he was. "Crazy. This isn't a movie," he finally finished.

I hummed in agreement, willing myself to keep my composure.

"Very true, so what'll it be?"

"Well, you've got survival skills, know your way around weapons, and can obviously sneak up on people." We continued to walk through the woods, him reviewing my resume and me wondering if there was anything for breakfast. "I'm going to say you were in law enforcement, a cop or detective."

Priceless. I was going to have to tell Officer Grimes and Detective Dixon when we got back I was now a member of the thin, blue line.

"Wrong," I chuckled and because it was too good an opportunity to pass up I added, "I was a singer."

His steps faltered and he stopped, eyes wide when he turned to look at me. While misleading our stalker providing endless entertainment it wasn't the reason I did it. Something told me our association with Aaron and his community might not be temporary, and if that was the case I needed to lay the groundwork for my deceit.

"A singer?"

I shrugged, "Well, if we're being honest I was a struggling singer which meant I was a waitress by day and singer by night."

He frowned, trying to visualize the picture, but it was clear by the look on his face he was struggling. I motioned with my gun for him to start walking and he complied, face contemplative.

"A singer?" he questioned again.

"Who waitressed to pay the bills," I added.

"Then how do you know how to…"

"Kick ass?"

He laughed and I had the distinct feeling I could be friends with this man.

"Yeah."

"If you survive the next five minutes maybe I'll tell you someday." His playful demeanor vanished in a heartbeat. "Stop here."

He halted in the woods just in front of the barn. I scanned the area, but saw no one outside save the impaled walkers. I stepped forward, pressing the barrel of the gun against his head and he stiffened.

"These people are my family. If you make one move I don't like I'll kill you were you stand. Do we understand each other?" He nodded, saying nothing. "Good."

"Any…" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Any words of advice?"

"Yeah, don't piss them off."

I whistled loud, a distinctive three-note tune that echoed in the quiet woods. Seconds later the barn door swung open, two rednecks charging out armed to the teeth, the others following close behind. My husband's face was set in a hard scowl, eyes skimming the surrounding area for the danger he knew was coming. Merle looked downright deadly standing next to him, knife stub raised and shoulders taunt. The two hillbillies' presence defied physics, an aurora of outright aggression permeating off them making them appear much larger. As I suspected I'd been gone far too long and they knew something was wrong.

"Oh dear lord," Aaron mumbled, shoulders hunched.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your polaroid's will put them at ease."

The moment we stepped out of the trees everyone's eyes honed in on us and not one pair looked happy. Weapons that were only moments ago loosely held in hands were now pointed at Aaron. Despite the obvious threat to his life he kept his hands raised in compliance and head high. I'd give the man points for bravery, none for intelligence, but at least one for bravery.

"Alex," Rick said, stepping forward, cannon at the ready.

"Hey guys, this is Aaron. He has some things he'd like to discuss." Daryl and Merle stalked forward, peeling left and right to check the perimeter. "We're clear. His friends waiting in a car."

"Get him inside," Rick ordered.

Daryl grabbed Aaron by the scruff of his neck, pushing him inside the barn. Merle fell into step beside me, pointedly looking me up-and-down.

"I'm fine."

He harrumphed, "This the guy?" I nodded, walking into the barn. "He don't look like much."

"Neither do I." Judging a book by its cover was a good way to end up dead. "Stay sharp."

Aaron stood in the center of our armed circle, trying this best to look non-threatening. He didn't need to try too hard. He looked about as threatening as a newborn kitten standing in the middle of a pack of wolves.

Daryl patted him down roughly before shoving him forward. He raised his eyebrows at me and I nodded, answering his unasked question. Yes, he was one of the guys following us. He stepped to my side, crossbow ready, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Nearly two years and countless evidence to the contrary and the man still couldn't suppress his instinct to protect me.

Aaron swallowed hard and looked at me and I gestured towards the group. "Floors all yours hero."

He tried smiling at everyone, but he got to Sasha she gave him a look that could peel wallpaper off a wall and he shuttered, focusing his attention on Rick.

"Hi, I'm Aaron." Judith started crying and Rick handed her to Carl. Clearly Nugget didn't like him. He wasn't off to a good start. "It's nice to meet you."

He took a step in Rick's direction and the group moved as one, weapons pointed at him and people stepping into his path. Aaron had the good sense to stop, looking sheepish. I wasn't sure how this had played out in his previous attempts, but good lord, it was a miracle he wasn't conversing with angels. If this was what we had to look forward to in his community I wasn't inspired with confidence. It may be better to be lucky than good, but luck always ran out, eventually.

"Did he have any weapons?" Rick asked, ignoring Aaron.

"Pocket knife and a flare gun." I held up both and Rick raised a single eyebrow. "It's for signaling his homey." Aaron's head turned sharply to me and now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. "Sorry, am I stealing your thunder? Didn't mean to ruin the big reveal."

"Is there something you need?" Rick didn't look in the mood to play games.

Aaron looked to me for help, and Daryl stiffened, eyeing the man. I shook my head no and pointed at Rick. He was on his own with this one. I wanted no part of sassy Rick.

"I have a place, a community. It's nearby and I'd like to bring you back and have you all…audition for membership if you will."

I covered my face with my hands, partly because that sounded so asinine it was difficult to comprehend, but mainly to keep the blood spatter off my face when Rick removed his head with his cannon. Audition for membership? What part of don't piss them off was unclear?

When his deceleration was met with silence he coughed uncomfortably.

"I wish there was another word for it. Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of dance troupe. That's only on Friday nights."

He threw in an awkward laugh to try and ease some of the tension. It didn't work.

Merle leaned over, whispering in my ear, "Why didn't ya kill this jerk-off?"

I shrugged, right now I had no idea. If I'd known he was going to walk in here and do stand-up I would have put him out of his misery.

I stepped around my husband, ignoring the snarls of annoyance as I walked over to Aaron. I opened his pack, digging around until I found the envelope with the pictures. I gave him a sharp look when I passed, handing the envelope to Rick.

"I think you all would make valuable additions, but it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back. I know, I can tell by the look on your faces, and I know what you're thinking. I wouldn't want to go either unless I knew exactly what I was getting into and that's why I brought those." He pointed at the envelope as Rick thumbed through the pictures, Deadpool looking over his shoulder. "I apologize in advance for the picture quality. We just found an old camera store last…"

"Nobody gives a shit," Daryl barked and Aaron looked at him wearily.

"You're absolutely, 100% right." His hands shook from nerves, but he pressed on. "The first picture I wanted to show is of our walls because nothing I say will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be. Each panel in that wall is a 15-foot-high, 12-foot-wide slab of solid steel framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing. Nothing, alive or dead, gets through that without our say-so. Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival, the people."

"I'm gettin' a boner just thinkin' 'bout it," Merle drawled causing Abraham to snort in amusement.

Rick and Deadool shared a skeptical look I knew too well. The last people who offered us high walls and promised protection tried to eat us for dinner.

"Uh, like I was saying, people are our greatest resource. Together we're strong. You can make us even stronger." Rick walked forward, the look on his face deadly, and stepped away from Aaron. He continued talking, oblivious to the pain in his immediate future. "The next picture, you'll see inside the gates. Our community was first construc…"

Rick reared back, slamming his fist into Aaron's jaw with sickening force. The recruiter's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he rocked back on his heels, falling to the ground unconscious. Daryl grabbed his shirt and rolling him onto his back, making sure he was in fact night-night.

"Good to know your hospitality ain't changed Officer Friendly."

Rick didn't acknowledge Merle's taunt as he and Deadpool shared a quick exchange. The latter didn't look particularly thrilled with how this shook out.

"Dump his pack. I want to know who this guy really is. Make sure he's secure and we need some eyes out there." He marched back, stopping in front of me. "Talk to me Alex."

"He's not lying. The community, the walls, wanting us to go back with him, it's all legit. It's just him and the one other guy out there."

"Why?" Daryl asked, peering down at the unconscious man.

"That's always the question, isn't it? I think it's pretty clear the community is short fighters." I pointed at the drooling man at our feet. "There's no way to know if they want us there to exploit our skills."

"Ya mean they want to use us cause of what we can do?" Merle questioned.

"Exactly."

"He's coming around," Glenn announced.

"I can get it out of him, but if we're even considering this community as an option I wouldn't recommend it," I offered.

Nothing ruined a relationship faster than torture.

"That's a hell of a right cross there Rick," Aaron mumbled, regaining consciousness.

"Sit him up."

Maggie hesitated at Rick's command so Daryl and I stepped forward, hauling him upright. If he couldn't handle one, tinie-tiny right hook he was in the wrong line of work.

"You're being cautious and I completely understand…"

"You've got one guy with you and use this flare gun to signal him if you need help, right?" Rick asked, holding up the flare gun.

"Does it matter?" Aaron countered.

"Yes, yes it does."

"I mean, of course, it matters how many people are _actually_ out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say 8, 32, 444, 0. No matter what I say, you're not going to trust me."

Rick smiled and it made a shiver race down my spine.

"You're right, I don't trust you, but I do trust her." He pointed at me and I tried not to cower under the scrutiny of our entire group. "I know who you have out there. I even know where. What I don't know is why?"

The group raised their collective eyebrows and I shot Rick a venomous glare. Thanks for that buddy. Now _everyone_ was aware I'd known about our stalkers and failed to share the info. Aaron continued to smile like he wasn't facing imminent danger, and I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

"It's hard to trust a guy who smiles after getting punched in the face."

More smiling.

"How about a guy who leaves water bottles for you in the road?"

"Why ya been followin' us? Whatcha want?"

Aaron licked his lips. "You practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail, and despite lack of food and water you never once turned on each other. You're survivors and you're people." His eyes darted around the barn. "Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that's the most important resource in the world. We _need_ people like you at our community."

"Why the hell should we believe ya?" Merle hissed, hand on his hip.

"If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real? What if I drove you to the community? All of you? We leave now, we'll get there by lunch."

"I'm not sure how all 15 of us are gonna fit in the one car you and your friend drove," Rick mocked.

"We drove separately." I took a menacing step forward. He'd neglected to mention that part. He swallowed nervously, eyes wide as he looked up at me. "I didn't mean to mislead you. It's just, if we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all back."

"And you're parked just a few miles away?" Carol asked.

"East on Ridge Road, just after you hit Route 16. We wanted to get them closer, but then the storm came, blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

Rick shook his head, not buying it.

"You know, there's an old saying when something's too good to be true it's because someone's a lying piece of shit who should have mentioned outside they had two cars instead of one," I stated, taping my foot in agitation, wondering what else he conveniently left out.

"I don't think that's how the saying goes," Aaron puzzled and I lunged forward only to be restrained at the last second by Daryl. "If I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit. You can trust me."

That remained to be seen.

I'll check out the cars," Deadpool offered.

"There aren't any cars," Rick insisted.

"There's only one way to find out."

"We don't need to find out."

My head bobbed back-and-forth between Rick and Deadpool as they squared off.

"We do. You know what you know and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

Maggie stood, "Me neither."

"Your way is dangerous, mine isn't."

Deadpool scoffed, "Passing up someplace where we can live? Where Judith can live? That's pretty dangerous." Rick couldn't hold her thunderous gaze, but she wasn't done yet. "We need to find out what this is. We can handle ourselves. So that's what we're gonna do."

"I'm in," I said immediately, Rick's head swiveling to me.

"I'll go," Glenn said.

Rick took a deep breath, looking around the barn. It was a hard call deciding who to send. We needed enough firepower to overpower what could be a dangerous force waiting to ambush us, but we also had to leave enough manpower to protect those at the barn.

"Abraham," Rick said.

The enormous red-head shook his head. "Yeah, I'll walk with them."

"Rosita."

I tried not to groan in annoyance. It wasn't that I didn't like her. It was more that I didn't enjoy her company.

"Okay."

"Maggie?"

The eldest Greene daughter nodded, smiling at her younger sister who didn't look thrilled at the development.

Ariel, Deadpool, and I were going in case Aaron was full of shit and people needed killing. Glenn and Maggie were going because they were the most diplomatic people in our group, meaning they tended to ask question first and shoot second. Apocalypse Barbie was serving as window dressing, albeit scantily clad window dressing.

That left the Dixon brothers as the main defense remaining at the barn. Carol had some skills, but her head wasn't in the right place so she couldn't be trusted to not light people on fire thinking it might help. Beth and Noah were the equivalent of secret service for Nugget which meant they were more defense minded. Carl was a decent shot, but his heart was too big for outright murder. Sasha was a fierce fighter, but right now she was a hammer and everything was nail. She was just as likely to inadvertently kill one of us as the enemy. That left Billy Rae Cyrus who was that groups version of window dressing, albeit ugly window dressing.

Rick stopped in front of Glenn and me. "If there's trouble you got enough firepower?"

I smiled, walking outside. "I'm going to assume that questions meant for him."

I made it all of one step before Daryl's hand wrapped around my upper arm, hauling me around the barn and out of sight. I expected yelling or a lecture, but he engulfed me in a hug, squeezing me so hard it made it difficult to breathe. He pulled back a moment later, holding my face in his hands, his own serious.

"Ya be careful out there. I don't trust this."

I nodded, "I will."

His Adam's apple bobbed up-and-down, "I don't like ya goin' out there on yur own, but…"

"I won't be on my own, and even if I was I'm completely capable of taking care of myself?"

He smirked, "I was gonna say Merle and me need to stay back in case this is a trap."

I huffed, rolling my eyes. "One of these days I'm going to fly off the handle when you say something like that and you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

His hand moved to the base of my neck, pulling me closer and covering my mouth with his. When his tongue darted into my mouth I forgot why I was so annoyed, the heat pooling in my rocket pocket taking up all my brain power.

"I found them!" Abraham hollered and we broke apart, me with a groan, Daryl with an annoyed snarl. "You two done playing tonsil hockey?"

"Not really, we were just about to move on to matrimonial polka," I retorted.

"Lemme guess, they were tryin' to roast the broomstick?" Merle added, rounding the corner with humor dancing in his eyes.

"I'd be happy with a naked game of slap and tickle at this point," I commented, ignoring the growing crowd.

"Red," Daryl warned, his face the color of my hair.

"What? You're the one who drug me over here and wanted to suck face. Don't get pissed I upped the ante."

"Stop."

Deadpool joined the party, a grin on her face. "They violating the prime directive again?"

"I wish."

"Good lord."

Daryl and I spoke in unison, his groan of embarrassment causing me to smirk. He knew what he was getting into when he married me, and it wasn't my fault he was too hot to handle.

"Can we get this show on the road?"

Apocalypse Barbie phrased it as a question, but it was clearly a statement as she stomped off in her painted on capri pants and matching crop top. Abraham, Glenn, Maggie and Deadpool followed while I turned back to Daryl. The wrinkles in his forehead betrayed his concern and rubbed my thumb over them, smiling sadly.

"You worry too much."

He snorted, "That's cause yur a magnet for trouble."

"Everyone has a talent."

"Ain't funny."

I stepped closer, running my fingers through his hair.

"Yes it is." I kissed him quickly before hugging him again as I whispered. "I'll see you again."

"This side or the other."

I released him and followed the others, trying not to worry about how this might play out. I may believe Aaron was telling the truth, but it didn't mean I trusted his community. He was one man and one man a community did not make.

The sun beat down on us as we walked down a deserted road, Glenn reminding everyone to stay sharp. I hung back with Ariel, the two of us sharing a smirk. I was always sharp.

"How long you and Dixon been married?"

I wiped sweat from my brow. "A while."

"Y'all know each other before?"

"No." I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my focus on the woods on either side of the road. "How long have you been with Apocalypse Barbie?"

He chuckled at the nickname. "Ran into her group when we were traveling through Houston. They had some skills so we decided to join forces. Wasn't long until she was the only one left."

I glanced at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Nah, guess not," he grinned, knowing full well what I was asking and that he'd failed to deliver. "A while."

"Cute."

"It ain't serious."

"Does she know that?"

From what I'd witnessed she believed their relationship was _very_ serious. I'd even go so far as to say she loved him, and that fact he didn't see that was almost funny. Well, it was sad for them, but funny for me mainly because I wasn't the one she was going to stab to death when she found out.

"Weapons up. If you see someone coming at us, you fire," Glenn instructed.

"Copy that," Abraham answered, looking relieved at the interruption.

Deadpool frowned at both of them. "So if we see someone, we just shoot them?"

"It's a good question," Maggie added when Glenn faltered.

"Only shoot them if they're bad," I interjected.

Deadpool turned, raising a single eyebrow in question. She looked a lot like Rick. Huh, guess it was true, couples in close proximity do start to resemble each other.

"And how do we know if they're bad?"

"If they shoot at us they're bad."

She shook her head at me. "Sounds a little half-assed if you ask me."

"No way, I used my whole ass on that one."

Maggie used her hand to cover her smile while Ariel tipped his head back and cackled.

"Ass logic aside, what if they're someone like us? What if Aaron is telling the truth? What if they're someone who has nothing to do with this?"

"We're six people walking with guns. No one's coming up to say hello."

"But that's exactly what happened."

"If it's someone like us, we should be afraid of them," Glenn insisted and I couldn't argue with that. We were badass.

"They've been watching us for days, right Alex?"

Everyone turned to look at me and I scratched my head uncomfortably. It was painfully obvious they weren't over me withholding the knowledge we were being tracked.

"A few days, yeah."

Apocalypse Barbie grumbled under her breath and I narrowed my eyes at her. I was willing to take the disappointment on Glenn, Maggie and Deadpool's faces, but she could suck it. I didn't owe her shit.

"After everything we've done, why would they want us to join their group?"

Glenn's question was directed at Deadpool, but it was for all of us. He wasn't talking about what Aaron and his companion witnessed in the last few days. That was tame compared to what we'd done to get here.

"People like us saved a priest."

Deadpool glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, but I couldn't hold her stare. Yes, I'd saved Gabby, but it wasn't some grandiose gesture. It was instinct. I felt like a fraud taking credit for "doing the right thing" when in fact I'd done nothing at all.

"Saved a girl who rolled up to the prison with the Governor." That one was meant for Glenn. He was the sole reason Tara wasn't six feet under despite my objections. "Saved a crazy lady with a sword. He saw that."

Glenn muttered a barely audible response, annoyed with her logic and uncharacteristically optimistic attitude. She smiled triumphantly and I snorted.

"That was so…beautiful," I said, grinning when her dreamy smile was replaced with a stony scowl.

We continued down route 16 in silence, everyone lost in thought. When we passed a lush, green field filled with abandoned farm equipment my skin prickled with awareness. My eyes slide over the landscape, searching. Ariel casually followed my gaze, shoulders stiffening slightly.

"What?"

I licked my lips, "Someone's out there."

"How many?"

That wasn't the question. The real question was who. There weren't many places to hide so it stood to reason we weren't facing a superior force. The unanswered question was whether our uninvited guest was part of Aaron's group. When I didn't answer right away he looked at me.

"How do ya want to play it?"

I eyed the others walking in front of us, oblivious to our conversation. "We keep going. Let it play out. If it's who I think we have nothing to worry about."

"That's one hell of a gambling problem ya got there."

"It's only a problem if you lose," I replied.

I trusted my gut and my gut told me it was Aaron's friend cowering in the field. If we attacked, drug him out, and scared the shit out of him we may lose our chance at joining their community. I may not be 100% on board with the idea, but the one thing I was 100% on was the fact we wouldn't last much longer on the road.

We continued down the road until debris left from the storm forced us to stop. There were trees and branches crisscrossing the road effectively blocking the old, white Cadillac and RV in front of us. Two cars, large enough to bring back any number of survivors, just like Aaron said.

"He was telling the truth," Deadpool marveled and I agreed with her.

I couldn't remember the last time someone didn't lie to my face. It was even rarer someone put their own life on the line to help others. I didn't see Aaron's friend which meant he was the one hiding in the field, not that I could blame him. I'd seen the guy and he didn't scream hardened survivor to me. He screamed something along the lines of gentle, timid, miracle he was still alive survivor.

A twig snapped in the woods to our left and we all tensed, aiming our weapons. Two walkers stumbled out and I dropped my weapon. It never ceased to amaze me how we weren't nearly as scared of the dead as we were the living.

"I got 'em," Abraham declared, his huge, hulking frame lunging forward.

" _We_ got 'em."

Apocalypse Barbie followed Ariel, the two dispatching the walkers, but not before Apocalypse Barbie saved Ariel's ass. She shot her lover a deadly glare that made Deadpool purse her lips, giving me a meaningful look I could only shrug at.

"What's up with her?" she asked quietly.

"Camel toe can be a real bitch," I mumbled, Maggie's shoulders shaking with silent laughter

"We're gonna clear the RV," Ariel stated and I nodded, watching his…girlfriend follow close behind.

I went to the Cadillac, opening the driver side door and searching for the car keys. I sighed heavily when they weren't in the ignition.

"Can you get it started?" Glenn asked. I paused, glancing at him over my shoulder. "Sorry, stupid question."

I shook my head, ducking underneath the steering wheel so I could hotwire the car. Less than half an hour later we had both vehicles parked outside the barn with a stash of canned goods stacked inside. My mouth watered at the pile of food, and I almost swooned when I saw a can of ABCs and 123s. I stood next to Daryl who was leaning casually against the barn, eyes locked on the food just like everyone else.

"This, this is ours now," Rick declared, holding a single can.

It was an unnecessary statement. Aaron was tied to a pole and outnumbered. What the hell was he going to do?

"There's more than enough," he replied, swallowing hard.

"It's ours whether we or not we go to your camp."

Oh shit. That was bound to start an argument. Daryl bit his thumbnail by my side and Merle shifted his weight from foot-to-foot. Eyes darted around the barn, everyone thinking the same thing, but no one brave enough to put a voice to it, everyone but Carl.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?"

Both excellent questions with equally shitty answers. The one and only reason we wouldn't take this chance was paranoia. Rick's paranoia was understandable and justified, but as I looked at our group, taking in every weary face, I knew this was one chance we couldn't afford to pass up.

"If he were lying or if he wanted to hurt us," Deadpool answered, "But he isn't, and he doesn't. We need this. So we're going, all of us." Deadpool's eyes skirted the group, daring anyone to challenge her. "Somebody say something if they feel differently."

Rick looked ready to put up a fight, but Daryl spoke up, effectively ending the argument.

"I don't know man. This barn smells like horse shit."

I grinned down at him, spoken like a true redneck.

"Yeah, we're going," Rick finally agreed. He trusted Deadpool, trusted her decision. The two shared what I could only describe as a "moment" before he turned his full attention to Aaron. "So where are we going? Where's your camp?"

"Well…every time I've done this I've been behind the wheel, driving recruits back."

"The dog won't find that hunting," I mumbled. Daryl covered his face with his hands, shaking his head while Merle sighed heavily. "Wait, maybe the dog has a bone instead…?"

"Stop talkin'," Merle implored.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and watching while Rick stalked closer to Aaron. He didn't look happy at his refusal to share, but his cold look did nothing to pry the information from the man.

"I believe you're good people. I've bet my life on it. I'm just not ready to bet my friends' lives just yet."

Deadpool stopped in front of him, her face deadly. "You're not driving. So if you want to get home, you'll have to tell us how."

Aaron shook his head, sweat trailing down his face.

"I'm sorry…really I am, but I can't do that."

Rick ground his teeth together, crumpling the map in his hand. His eyes slide to me and I nodded once, making my way to our captive. Deadpool gave him a sympathetic smile before backing up. Aaron eyed me warily, mouth opening and closing a few times, but no sound escaped. I squatted down in front of him and he pressed his back against the pole behind him.

"Please," he begged, looking over my shoulder for help he wouldn't find.

He had no friends in here. Just people who _really_ wanted to kill him and people who _kinda_ wanted to kill him. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to me.

"I…can't. I won't."

I cocked my head to the side studying him and he shuttered. I could break him, pull the information out despite his best efforts to withhold it, but I didn't need to. He'd already told me everything I needed to know I just didn't realize it until now.

"Defender of men." His eyes bulged and I smirked, standing up. "The community is Alexandria."

"How…how did…how did you know that?"

"Parce que je parle Français," I answered, his mouth dropping open in shock, "Je m'appelle Aalexandrina."

It was bad luck for him I bore practically the same name as the community he was trying to protect _and_ spoke decent French. It was equally bad luck he was a terrible liar.

Now that we knew the location of the community all we needed was a plan of attack. Rick decided approaching at night offered us the most protection should Aaron be lying. It was the more dangerous option, but inspecting the community under the cover of darkness was better than strolling up in broad daylight.

It was a tight fit in the RV, everyone crammed in save Deadpool, Glenn, Rick and Aaron who were in the Cadillac. I sat in the hallway between the kitchen and bedroom, knees under my chin, arms wrapped around my legs. Daryl sat on my right, fiddling with his crossbow, and Merle sat on my right, snoring. When his head fell against my shoulder for the umpteenth time I elbowed him hard in the ribs and he sat up abruptly, sputtering.

"What? Huh?" he mumbled.

Beth laughed from her spot at the table and I grinned at her. Noah was asleep beside her, head flat on the table while she rubbed his back. They made a cute couple, if that's what they were. I was happy for her, for both of them.

Suddenly the RV skidded to a stop, tires squealing as the brakes locked.

"Son of a dick!" Ariel cursed from the driver's seat.

I was thrown forward, colliding with Daryl whose arms instantly wrapped around me as we both slide across the RV floor. Something or rather someone rammed into me from behind and I grunted in pain before we came to a jarring stop.

"Get off me you big lug," I groaned, elbowing Merle in the stomach for the second time in as many minutes.

"Hold onto your nuts!" Ariel yelled, swinging the RV around.

The enormous, top heavy vehicle swayed precariously as the enormous, top heavy red-head driving it struggled to turn the wheel. This beast had the turn radius of a drunken blue whale. Everyone fought to regain their footing, bodies flying around the RV followed closely by grunts of pain as the vehicle tipped precariously onto two wheels. Daryl and I rolled to the right, his arms still locked around me, hands protecting my head.

"What's going on?!" Maggie screamed over the mayhem.

"The road is filled with walkers!" Apocalypse Barbie reported.

"What?! Where's the other car?!" the eldest Greene daughter shrieked in terror. Her husband was in the other car.

"They went straight through the herd!"

Daryl and I struggled to our feet just as Ariel gunned the engine. I stumbled back, colliding with my brother-in-law and sending him flying into the bedroom. My husband put a steady hand on my arm, grimacing as he watched his brother over my shoulder. The back of Merle's legs connected with the wooden frame of the queen sized bed, his momentum tossing his body up and over. He landed with a loud _thump_ on the other side, wedged between the bed and the wall, legs sticking straight up.

Ariel stopped the RV and we all exited, standing in the middle of the dark road hoping a white car would suddenly appear.

"What do we do?" Beth asked, Noah putting a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"We wait," Daryl answered, voice firm. "They'll see we ain't behind 'em and circle back. Everybody stays in the RV."

I bit my lip, eyes locked on the road. That was wishful thinking. If the herd was big enough an RV couldn't plow through it the odds of circling back weren't great, but what else could we do? No one questioned Daryl's plan, obediently filing back into the RV. Beth took her sisters hand, pulling her towards the RV and my heart broke. I knew exactly what it felt like to be separated from you husband, and have no idea if he would survive the night.

"Keep it runnin'. That herd turns we gotta get outta here in a hurry."

Ariel nodded in agreement, disappearing from the doorway only to be replaced by Merle. He looked no worse for the wear, but was quiet literally fuming. He stalked over to us, eyes blazing.

"Thanks for the help," he said sarcastically and I shrugged. "Ya need to lay off the Cheetos lil' sister."

I rounded on him. "Are you calling me fat?"

"If common sense was lard ya wouldn't be able to grease a pan."

Oh, so he wanted to play, no problem.

"You better pack your brain before you mouth off," I countered, but he only grinned.

Shit. Wrong again.

"Are you going to do something?" Carol asked Daryl who stood silently watching the festivities.

"Nope."

It didn't sound like he was giving our argument his full attention.

"Ya couldn't find your ass with both hands in yur back pocket," Merle retored and I bristled at the insult I didn't understand.

"Fuck off you backwoods hick!"

His face turned thunderous as he raised his knife stub, shoving the deadly weapon in my face. In the blink of an eye I had my own knife inches from his carotid artery. A sudden explosion of orange drew our attention away from maiming each other. We watched in stunned disbelief as sparks lit up the inky, black sky.

"What was that? Was it them?" Maggie questioned, running out of the RV.

"Flare," I answered absently.

Rick had a flare, but so did the other member of Aaron's group. It could be our people just as easily as it could be a trap. My gut told me it wasn't Rick. He would never risk drawing walkers by using a flare, and if he did than things had passed bad and were headed towards catastrophic. Daryl's eyes met mine and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

"Ain't no way to be sure," Merle said, voicing our thoughts.

"We have to try," I said and my husband nodded.

"Everyone in," he ordered, running for the RV. He made his way to Ariel. "'Bout six miles up the road is a county road that leads to town. That flare went up by the water tower."

I stood anxiously next to Daryl while we made our way to town. I heard Judith crying from the back bedroom and her brother trying to soothe her. Our pathetic headlights did little to illuminate the road and with each passing second I felt my unease increase. It was a moonless night with a low fog holding steady at the treetops. In short, it was a terrible night to be out for a drive.

The clock on the dash said it took 10 minutes to get to town. That was 10 minutes after someone was desperate enough to send up a flare. Ariel stopped the RV as we eyed the eerily quiet town. I didn't see any walkers. I didn't see much of anything, and that made me uneasy.

"Pull into the alley," Daryl instructed. Once the RV was situated in the alley Daryl gathered the group. "A'right, we're gonna have to split up and search the town. Alex and I will start on the east side while Abraham and Rosita start on the west. We'll work our way to each other. The rest of ya stay here and keep quiet. Merle yur in charge. If anythin' goes wrong we meet back at the barn at sunrise."

My impatience to get the search underway was difficult to contain as Daryl last minute preparations. I leaned against the RV, tapping my foot and biting my lip. I wasn't the least bit surprised when Maggie defiantly stepped out of the RV fully armed. If Daryl was missing there wasn't a soul on Earth who could keep me in that RV.

"I'm going," she declared, holding her chin high. Daryl sighed, but didn't argue, giving her a curt nod.

"I'm coming too."

I did pause then, eyes locked on the boy standing in front of me.

"No," I declared.

"My dad's out there."

"And that's why you're staying." He frowned, opening his mouth to argue. "Nugget is in there." I pointed at the RV, watching his shoulders deflate. "She needs you."

"Alright," he agreed, head hung low. I hugged him, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Be careful."

"Always am," I smiled.

"Rosita, why don't you stay here to drive the RV. I'll take her with me."

Ariel pointed at Maggie who didn't appear to give a flying fuck who she was paired with as long as she went.

"Yeah," Apocalypse Barbie conceded, already heading for the RV.

She didn't look the least bit upset about being traded, and I cocked my head to the side in confusion. I wondered if Daryl ever wished I was that pleasant and agreeable to alternative suggestions? I glanced in his direction and found him already looking at me, a huge grin on his face.

"All the time Red."

"Stop," I said with a note of warning.

We gathered around Daryl as he quickly went over the plan and search grids. When he noticed I wasn't paying attention he called me out.

"This ain't the time for daydreamin'."

I rolled my eyes. "So far all you've said is we go east and they go west. You said that already."

Abraham smothered a laugh while Maggie just stood there, a bundle of nervous energy.

"What 'bout the rest?" he challenged.

"Blah, blah, blah, if you find yourself fucked six ways to Sunday go back to the barn. You already said all that too."

My husband looked highly annoyed I was able to paraphrase his plan so thoroughly, and I rocked back on my heels, smiling. He exhaled harshly, adjusting his crossbow, but hopefully not so he could shoot me. He gave Ariel and Maggie one last nod before we split up.

We walked down the sidewalk silently, alert for danger. Occasionally I heard a walker slam into a pane of glass, still locked in their house or a store, but so far we hadn't seen any on the street. They were here though. No one, not Rick, not anyone, would send up a flare if there wasn't a serious threat. We just had yet to find it.

We combed the area, sweeping in a pattern three blocks out and seven blocks down before circling back to the RV. Daryl estimated it would take us half an hour "as the crow flies" to complete the search, but I had no idea what that equated to for humans.

Every so often Daryl whistled a low, distinctive, two-tone pattern, but there was no response. I tried to keep my spirits up, but as I eyed the dozens and dozens of houses, restaurants and buildings in my hopes dried up. They could be holed up in any number of houses or stores with no way out, no way to signal, no way to let us know they were here.

We were two blocks away from the center of town that housed the water tower when I heard the first growl. I put a hand on Daryl's arm, stopping him. He looked at me and I put a finger to my lips, closing my eyes and straining to hear. When I heard another growl I turned sharply left, opening my eyes and pointing down a side street. It was coming from that direction.

He nodded and we moved cautiously down the alley. We were a few feet from the end when I heard a man yelling. We stopped, sharing a look before bolting towards the voice. The further we ran the louder the snarls and growls became to the point I wasn't that surprised when we rounded a corner and saw a herd a few feet away that had yet to notice us.

I quickly counted the walkers surrounding the firebombed remains of a car, the shouts for help coming from underneath the car a good bet as to why they were attracted. I couldn't get a clear view of the man, but it wasn't one of ours. No one in our group would yell like that even surrounded by walkers and facing imminent death.

"How ya wanna do this?"

"You're the party planner honey. I'm the one who doesn't pay attention." I winked at him when he shot me a scowl of disapproval. "Ok, fine. You go that way." I pointed right. "I'll go that way." I pointed left.

"And?"

"We do the damn thing." He blinked at me. "Kill them, we kill them."

He pursed his lips. "Ya suck at this."

"I love you too."

He swallowed hard, face tense. I knew that look. That look meant he wanted to pull a cave man. I understood his thinking, only 10,000 things could go wrong, but this was where I made my money. Without warning I planted a kiss on his lips, squeezing his hands, trying to offer reassurance I knew would do little to soothe him. The man screamed again and I stepped back, our eyes locked.

"I'll see ya again," he whispered and I leaned my forehead against his.

"This side or the other."

We split up, him going right while I went left. I assessed the walkers in my area, noting the differing levels of decay, which ones were the closest, which ones posed the greatest risk, which ones put me in an undesirable location. Hundreds of scenarios played out in the blink of an eye as I calculated risks versus rewards, and acceptable versus unacceptable loss.

The man under the car continued to yell thus keeping the walkers attention solely on him. The familiar mechanical whirl of Daryl's crossbow reached my ears just before a wet _thwack_ sent a walker to his knees. I quietly stalked the first two walkers, plunging my knife into their heads simultaneously. I stepped back to let the bodies fall, chanting _"let the bodies hit the floor"_ in my mind.

Daryl fired another arrow and one-by-one the herd finally realized there was fresh meat right behind them, breaking away from the car like a swarm of dead birds. I spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick to the head of a walker, instantly dropping into a crouch and spinning on my heel with my right leg extended, bringing another down. I dove forward into a roll to avoid the claws of a walker reaching for me, springing to my feet while slashing with my left and right hand, two more walkers dropping dead at my feet.

I saw Daryl on the other side of the car backtracking onto a front yard, trying to put some distance between him and the walkers while he reloaded. I rushed forward, ducking under the arms of a walker, hardly paying attention while I sank my knife into her head to the hilt, too preoccupied with Daryl. I yanked out my knife, spinning in a circle and throwing the blade in my left hand at a walker failing to sneak up on me. The knife hit him right between the eyes, throwing him back into two of his buddies.

I quickly pulled the arrow out of the dead walker by my feet, pivoting on my heel and throwing it. The aerodynamic projectile cut through the air, the razor sharp tip embedded itself in the back of a walker's skull with sickening force. She dropped to the ground at Daryl's feet in a heap. His head snapped up, an arrow clutched in his hand ready to strike. He exhaled harshly when he saw me and blew him a kiss before turning my attention back to the walkers.

The man under the car continued to wail, but it sounded less and less like fear and more and more like pain. It reminded me of Happy Go Lucky and I swallowed down bile, sinking my knife into the chin of a walker before kicking another in the chest to drive it back. If we didn't speed this up there might not be anything left of the poor guy to save.

The wonderful thing about walkers was they were stupid. They didn't learn. They simply attacked, mindlessly, relentlessly. I was tired of playing fuck-fuck games. I wanted my family back, and I wanted out of this town. In that order.

I flipped a knife around, palming the blade for a beat before throwing it with my left hand. I repeated the action with my right, drawing two more knives. I threw two more and watched with detachment as two more walkers fell. Again, I drew two more and threw them. Two more down.

The only knives I had left were stashed in my boots, but I had no time to grab them. A walker dove at me from the left and I was forced to take drastic measures to avoid a scratch. I bent backwards, reaching a hand out for the ground and kicking my legs up and over my head. I landed in a crouch next to a dead walker and smiled as I retrieved the knives stowed in my boots. I stood up, feigning going right only to hop back to the left. I jumped up, planting a boot on the door of the burned out car and pushing off it. In mid-air I grabbed the shirt of the walker, my momentum throwing him off balance as he tumbled to the ground. He landed on his back with me at near his head and I easily ended his life with a knife to the temple.

"Please! Help!"

I glanced under the car finally able to see the man's terrified face. I opened my mouth to say something, but was tackled. We rolled on the ground and I let our momentum carry us round-and-round until I was on top of him. I heard Daryl scream my name, but didn't dare take my eyes off the walker. I grunted in exertion, trying to fend off his dangerously sharp claws, sinking my knife into his eye.

Movement to my left caught my eye and I dove forward just in time to avoid another collision. I turned my body in the air, skidding to a halt on my back, wincing when the concrete dug into my exposed flesh. I pulled my PPQ from my holster, knowing the gun shot would only attract more company, but in a bad spot with no other way out, but before I could fire an arrow sailed over me, impaling the walker. I didn't hear anymore growling just the guy crying and let my arms flop the ground, panting. Being the hero was a lot of work.

Daryl knelt beside me, helping me sit up. He looked worried, eyes searching my body for mortal wounds, but I waved him off.

"I'm good."

He didn't look convinced. "Ya sure?"

"Gotta be."

He smiled, quickly kissing my forehead which I really hoped was devoid of walker guts because gross. He helped me to my feet and we shared a look when the man under the car kept yelling for help. I knelt next to the car, eyeing him.

"Be quiet," I hissed and he stopped yelling, but didn't move. "Well, are you going to get out or what?"

"I'm stuck." He motioned towards the rear of the car. Daryl and I moved closer and I cringed when I saw the back tire on top of his foot. "The roamers pushed it onto my ankle."

Daryl stood, moving towards the rear of the car and pushing, but the rust bucket didn't budge.

"You always said you wanted to see me hotwire a car."

"Seen it."

Thankfully the front door was unlocked and I slide in, Daryl keeping watch.

"No you haven't."

I made quick work of the wiring, but let out a string of curses when the live ignition wire singed my fingertips. I grumbled in annoyance, twisting the wires together before touching the ignition wire to the bundle. The engine gurgled to life and I sat up in the seat, revving the engine so it didn't die. I put the car in drive and carefully let it roll off the man's ankle, trying to ignore his screams of pain.

"Yeah I have," he insisted as I climbed out of the car, making our way to the back to help the injured man. "With Beth and Maggie."

I frowned, "That was a motorcycle, not a car."

"Same thing," Daryl insisted, distracted by the man crying at our feet.

Now that he didn't have a Ford Focus on his ankle and a clear view of his rescuers he looked ready to piss himself.

"You're…you're…you're…"

Daryl stared down at him, arms crossed looking about as friendly as a rabid dog. Aaron's friend looked like he'd rather be back under the Ford Focus. I took pity on him, squatting down and smiling.

"The crazy red-headed chic and the rough looking guy with a crossbow," I finished.

What little color was left in his face promptly drained out as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted. I stood, hands on my hips listening to Daryl sigh heavily.

"Ya suck at that too Red."

* * *

 **Poor Aaron and Eric...LOL...they have no idea.**

 **Are you guys excited they are almost to Alexandria? I would love to hear from you.**


	52. In This Jungle You Can't Run

**In This Jungle You Can't Run**

We stood outside the gate to Alexandria, all of us on edge, and doing a poor job of concealing it. The walls surrounding the compound could hold our salvation just as easily as our demise. Aaron and Eric stood a few feet away, giving us a moment to compose ourselves while Rick doled out last minute instructions. He was adamant we kept our guard up. Conversely, Deadpool implored everyone to keep an open mind. I wasn't sure you could do both at the same time, and judging by the anxious glances shared by the group neither were they.

There was one thing Rick and Deadpool agreed on, and they spent the last precious seconds we had outlining detailed instructions for those select few. They "politely" asked Sasha to curtail her active shooter tendencies, and respectfully requested Carol not set anyone on fire. Not yet anyway. Sasha said nothing, nodding curtly then walking away while Carol assured him it wouldn't be an issue since she was playing the role of meek housewife. It was less than comforting the only thing keeping her from torching someone was because it would contradict the role she was playing.

"Thought Rick said to tone down the murder face," Merle commented, vibrating with tension at my side while we waited for the gate to open.

"This is toned down." Daryl and Merle shared a quick glance, an unspoken exchange passing between the brothers. "I can back it down to 50%, but that's the best I can do."

"Waste of fuckin' time if ya ask me," Daryl said, biting his thumbnail, "That guy we saved ain't gonna keep quiet 'bout ya."

He was worried they would try to exploit me, or worse be so terrified they exiled me. I was already 10 steps ahead of him, having laid the ground work for my deceit back at the barn when I first met Aaron. He was right; there was no hiding some things, but they could easily be explained away before anyone dug too deep. We were all capable survivors. It was why Aaron and Eric chose us. They had no reason to believe my abilities were the product of anything other than the apocalypse, and I wasn't planning to give them one.

"I've got that covered," I smiled and he raised his eyebrows, urging me to elaborate. "Just go along with whatever I say."

"Every time ya say shit like that people end up tryin' to kill us," Merle muttered.

"People try to kill us no matter what," I countered, "Sometimes bad things happen to good people."

"Yeah, but in yur case it's karma returnin' the favor."

I shrugged, "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes."

"What if they catch ya in a lie?"

"We do what we always do." The elder redneck waited not so patiently. "Pretend you're deaf and I don't speak English."

He sighed so dramatically teenage girls everywhere would be proud. "For the record, that ain't worked once."

That just meant we were due.

"Here we go."

Daryl's voice interrupted us as the gate finally opened, Aaron helping a wounded Eric through. When a possum bolted out of a metal trashcan to our left every one of us turned in unison, weapons aimed, ready to obliterate the rodent. Daryl's reaction time put everyone else's' to shame as he put an arrow in its gut while I swallowed down bile. I hated possums, but my grandmother always said never turn up at someone's door empty handed.

"We brought dinner," Daryl announced, holding the dead marsupial by the tail.

I bit my lip, trying and failing not to smile at the shocked expression on Aaron's face, or the new guy standing next to him. Clearly Rick should have been more specific in his instructions to "act normal".

"It's OK," Aaron said, gesturing for us to follow him. "Come on in guys."

The gate closed behind us, and I felt a shiver race down my spine. We were here, and it appeared we weren't leaving without their say so. It hadn't even been a full minute, and I already felt like a caged animal. Could we still get out even with the gate closed and locked? Yes. Could we do it without someone getting hurt or worse? No, probably not.

"Before this goes any further I need you all to turn over your weapons," the new guy stated. No one made a move to comply making him bristle. "You stay, you turn them over."

"We don't know if we want to stay," Rick challenged, holding Nugget in one hand, and his cannon in the other. That was post-apocalyptic parenting for you.

I adjusted my grip on my PPQ just in case Aaron's people weren't as hospitable he claimed. The new guy's eyes skirted the group, annoyed by our defiance. When his eyes drifted over me I smirked, pumping up the murder face to 100%, and watching him pale considerably. Rick glanced at me over his shoulder, giving me a stern look that made me purse my lips. I only promised to play nice if they promised not to piss me off.

"Its fine Nicholas," Aaron said, trying to deescalate the situation. Nicholas didn't look convinced.

"If we were going to use them we would have started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna first," Aaron insisted.

"Who's Deanna?" Ariel barked from the back.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place." From Aaron's description I already disliked her. Nobody liked a know-it-all. "Rick, why don't you go first?"

There was a snarl outside the gate, a lone walker shuffling towards the compound at the speed paint dried. Sasha raised her rifle, firing a single round, and the walker's head exploded into red mist. Apparently Sasha's promise came with the same fine print as mine. At the rate we were going Carol was likely to set the entire town on fire by nightfall.

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose, and I could only imagine the inquisition he would face for bringing the likes of us back, but the man was a master negotiator. He managed to convince Nicholas to let us keep our weapons while escorting us to a house where we would be "interviewed".

The best way to describe the house we were all sitting outside of was ostentatious. It came complete with a wraparound porch, and even a swing which was so domestic, so normal, it was unnerving. I didn't know places like this existed anymore. It looked utterly untouched by the pandemic raging outside the walls, and that made me simultaneously optimistic and furious. With the exception of the prison, which was far from secure and had no porch swing, we'd lived without the safety these people most likely took for granted. The few people I'd seen walking the streets looked curious, but not threatening. In fact, so far I'd seen _no one_ I deemed a viable threat.

I was lying on my back in the grass between Daryl and Merle waiting for my turn with the principal. One at a time her minion called us into the house for our interrogation, sorry interview. Rick was the first to go, and looked no worse for the wear upon his return, telling us she asked basic questions, his name, what he did before, how we knew each other, but no sooner had he exited the house than Aaron appeared, offering to take him and Carl house hunting. I couldn't believe they were giving us a house complete with running water _and_ electricity courtesy of solar power and a super-duper filtration system. It was surreal.

I tried to stay relaxed while I waited, sifting through the information in my mind while deciding what to reveal and what to conceal. Several community members made a point to hover nearby under the guise of "helping us with whatever we needed", but the skeptic in me believed they were there to sniff out information. With strangers among us no one could talk openly, and that made it impossible for us to get our stories straight. For the most part no one but me had a story to _get straight_ , but it would've been helpful to know what someone was planning to say or more accurately, not say. It was easier to traverse a mind field when you could see the land minds.

While I spent my time plotting Daryl spent his time skinning and gutting the possum. I guess everyone managed downtime a little different. When his name was finally called he stood up slowly, making a point of tossing the possum guts into the azalea bushes on his way up the stairs. The woman escorting him in looked ready to puke, and absolutely terrified. I may own the murder face trophy in our family, but Daryl was no slouch. When she realized my husband had every intention of bringing the dead animal inside the house she almost fainted. Merle and I laughed for a good five minutes after.

Daryl set the record for shortest interview at less than 10 minutes, and then it was Merle's turn. I had my money on Merle blowing that record out of the water. The brother's shared a curt nod when they passed each other before Daryl sat down next to me, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

"And?" I asked quietly, eyes closed as I pretended to nap on the lawn.

"Bunch of bullshit."

"What you did before, how long have you been with the group, do you believe in Santa Claus?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, taking a long drag. "Everyone here has a job. She's askin' 'bout what we did b'fore so she can figure out where to put us."

"Do you think the hitman position's still open?"

He snorted, "Take a look 'round Red. Ain't seen no one here worth a damn. The lot of 'em are 'bout as useful as a steering wheel on a mule."

Before I could ask for a translation the front door was flung open. The woman escorting us to Deanna was plastered against the frame, hands over her chest, face beat red. I should have known better than to doubt my brother-in-law. If that was five minutes I'd be shocked.

"Don't be like that Sugar Cheeks," Merle smiled, slowly walking past her.

"Mr. Dixon, if you could please take a seat outside."

He held his hands up, smiling coyly. "A'right, I get it, playin' hard to get. I like it."

"I'm not...that wasn't what I..." Merle threw her a wink, and she legitimately swooned, making the elder Dixon chuckle. She took a moment to compose herself before calling my name. "Alex."

I stood, walking up the stairs and into the lavishly furnished house, pausing in the foyer for my escort. She was likely to need a few minutes to recover. It normally took me a solid hour to level out when Daryl cranked up the sexy to full blast. I wasn't aware Merle had any sexy to crank up, but given the heated flush of the woman's cheeks I was wrong. So gross, but different strokes for different folks.

While the woman changed her panty's I examined the house. Whoever owned this home previously had money, and lots of it. The furniture was oversized, antique, and ugly as sin. I was no art aficionado, but I was pretty sure the paintings on the wall were real. I had to stifle a laugh when Deanna's assistant scurried into the room only to slip on a few drops of possum blood. Her arms flailed as she grasped the wall for support to stop her fall.

"I thought I got it all," she said, fixing her hair nervously.

"I saw a few drops on the alpaca rug in the entryway."

Truthfully, I hadn't seen anything on rug, but the opportunity to watch her freak out over something so trivial was too great to pass up. She looked ready to faint, quickly leading me into a den where Deanna was waiting on a plush, leather couch. She stood when I entered, smiling at me in an effort to put me at ease. She had a better chance of being killed by a vending machine than putting me at ease, but whatever blew your hair back. My escort rushed out of the den with a few quick words so she could spend the rest of her day searching for nonexistent marsupial blood.

"Please come in and have a seat."

Deanna gestured to a chair opposite her, and I took my time walking to it. The leader of Alexandria appeared to be in her late 50s with light auburn hair, and intelligent eyes. I already knew from Rick she was a former Congresswoman, but even if I hadn't known it wouldn't be hard to guess. She carried herself with confidence boarding on narcissism yet fancied herself a "people person". I could tell she was trying to get a read on me, and wanted to laugh. She may believe she had the ability to read people, but she'd never met someone like me.

"I'm Deanna Monroe, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Alex Dixon."

She tilted her head to the side, "Dixon. Any relation to..."

"The guy with the dead possum," I finished, finally sitting down, "Just a bit. He's my husband."

If she was surprised by the revelation she didn't show it. I considered briefly withholding the information I was married to Daryl, but I knew there was no hiding it. Not for any meaningful length of time. Sharing the information put a target on our backs, but I wasn't willing to voluntarily separate myself from him on the off chance it somehow played out in our favor. I could watch his back a lot better if I was with him.

"So Merle would be your brother-in-law." I nodded, barely suppressing the groan that deduction always brought about while she reached behind her. "Do you mind if I film this?"

"What would you do if I said no?"

She paused, considering her answer. "I guess I'd ask why."

"So it's only fair if you tell me why you're filming us?"

"Transparency."

Not exactly a lie, but not the whole truth.

"Go ahead," I said, pointing at the camera and she pushed a button, a red light coming on. "Now that we've officially started why don't you tell me the _real reason_ you're filming."

She looked intrigued by my insight. "Well as I said before it's for transparency, but also so we have a record of our history."

She sounded just like Milton "The Butler" Mammoth. I wasn't a fan of the explanation then, and I wasn't now. Plus, she still wasn't telling me the truth which pissed me off.

"And?"

"It seems you've formulated your own theory. Care to elaborate?"

"Sure thing." I returned her fake smile with one of my own. "You're recording so you can double check our stories."

She sat back, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's right. It's a precaution. I'm sure you understand. The world is a dangerous place now."

"Always has been," I replied, settling into my own chair.

"True," she agreed, "But good or bad, this is part of our history now. You don't think we need to have a record of what's happening?"

"I think history is written by the victors."

She smiled triumphantly, crossing her legs. " _We_ are the victors, humanity."

She said it like it was a forgone conclusion, and sounded awfully proud of herself though I had no idea why.

"Really?"

"Look around Alex. We're not just surviving here. We're thriving, and you can be a part of that. You all can. We can beat this plague, together."

All that was missing from her speech was, _"vote for me"_.

"How much time have you spent outside these walls?" I questioned, leaning forward and bracing my forearms on my knees.

"Well, none, but I don't think..."

"So how would you know if we're beating this plague?" It was a question, but I gave her no time to answer. Proving a point I was fairly certain she already understood. "You don't have the first clue what it takes to live out there, to survive, to beat this."

"I don't disagree with you," she insisted, taking a measured breath to buy herself time to compose herself. "You've spent all your time out there, correct?"

"Yes, but you already knew that."

She'd ask Rick all the basic questions, not just about himself, but our group. She knew we'd never known a fraction of the safety or security she'd experienced from the beginning. She smiled again, but it wasn't the same smile from a few minutes ago. It was a tight smile that spoke of frustration from being off-balance.

"Why don't you tell me what you think about this plague, about how we're doing? Any information in general would be helpful, but the current state of affairs outside would be most beneficial."

"No problem." She looked thrilled I was finally playing along. "I think this plague is like fucking a gorilla. You keep going until the gorilla wants to stop."

Her eyes bulged, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times in shock. I smiled sweetly like I hadn't just said fucking and gorillas in the same sentence, sitting back and giving her a moment to recover. Clearly I'd upset her fragile sensibilities.

"Well...that's certainly paints a...vivid picture." She shifted her weigh, rattled. She decided to switch to a safer topic hoping to gain back ground. "Aaron tells me you were a singer before."

I shrugged, "Struggling singer which means I was really a waitress, bartender, flight attendant, barista, you name it."

"Achieving a goal is nothing. It's the getting there that's everything."

"Jules Michelet," I finished.

I only knew that quote because my high school assistant principal had a poster of it hanging in her office, and I spent _a lot_ of time in that office.

"Very good," she replied, narrowing her eyes. Here it comes. "Eric tells me you and Daryl saved his life."

I nodded, but said nothing. She hadn't actually asked a question.

"He says you're particularly capable." I nodded again, fighting the resulting smile when she rolled her shoulders in annoyance. "Could you explain how you came by such skills? It's important we know exactly who we're letting into our community, and while we expect a certain level of...competence due to circumstances, it would appear you possess far more ability than an average survivor."

Oh man, if she only knew.

One day I was going to ask her to explain to me the definition of an "average survivor", but right now I had bigger fish to fry. I knew this was coming, knew it the minute I subdued Aaron and saved Eric. The hilarious part was if I told her the truth, which I absolutely wasn't going to do, she wouldn't believe me. Nevertheless I'd prepared for this. I wasn't going to go to Carol's extreme and fake incompetence, but I wasn't about to let her parade me around as the token assassin either.

"My dad was a bit of a doomsday prepper," I explained, shifting my eyes away from her for the first time since I walked in. "He, uh, was convinced the world was going to end, and made it his mission in life to prepare his family."

She stayed quiet, watching me intently. I was drawing her in, the subtle shift in my demeanor intriguing her. I was sucking her in, but she wasn't sold yet.

"Turned out he was right about the world ending. He was just wrong about _how_." I twisted my hands in my lap like I was uncomfortable with the subject matter, licking my lips, and laughing without humor. "Not that you could blame the guy. Nuclear fallout seemed like the odds on favorite to end the human race, right? I mean, who in their right mind even considered the zombie apocalypse a reality?"

Her eyes softened in sympathy and I knew I had her on the hook. "Are they..."

I shook my head no, dropping my chin even wiping away a few false tears. "They're all gone, my mom, dad, two older sisters and a younger brother."

I almost threw in a fake golden retriever, but thought it might be too much.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I sniffled, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, that's how I learned. My dad made us all take self-defense practically from the day we could walk. He taught us how to hunt, how to track, how to find water, how to filter it, how to survive. I've been living like the world ended since the day I was born. I always thought he was nuts, you know, but it saved my life. He...saved my life."

A phony shutter racked my body. I made a point to keep my eyes diverted, afraid she might see through my lies. It was hard work mourning a fake family, especially the father part, but little did I know Deanna Monroe wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy.

"I have to say..." When she hesitated, my eyes flicking to her face, and could tell by the determined look on in her eyes she was about to drop her ace in the hole. "I've always been a huge fan of music. I think it's the one thing I miss most about the world from before. Do you think you could..."

She waved her hand like she was dismissing the idea entirely, but it was about as believable as Apocalypse Barbie's double D's. I could have sworn Rick said she said she was a poker player in her former life. If I'd run across her before the world ended I would've cleaned her out.

"Oh screw it," she said, smiling like we were sharing a secret. "Do you think you could sing for me? For old time's sake?"

It was obvious by the arrogant look on her face she was calling my bluff. Poker was a lot like sex. If you didn't have a good partner you better have a good hand, and I had an _excellent_ hand.

"OK, but don't judge me on this performance alone. It's been a while."

She laughed lightly, but I saw straight through her phony smile and professional body language. This was a challenge, plain and simple. Well, I hoped she was buckled up because she was going to regret testing me. I was about to drop the proverbial mic at her polished, Congressional feet, and I was going to have fun doing. I knew just the song. I'd apologize to Rick later assuming she didn't throw us out on our ass when I was done.

I cleared my throat, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind my ear as I hummed softly. My shoulders swayed as I hummed, the song effortlessly flowing from my lips.

 _ **Ooooooh, I got a bottle full of liquor with a cocaine kicker and I'm feeling like I'm thirty feet ta-aa-all**_

 _ **So lay it down, lay it do-ooo-own**_

Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape, but she leaned forward in her seat. I may be singing about booze and drugs, but I was doing it on key.

 _ **I got my legs up in the sky with the devil in my eyes**_

 _ **Let me hear you say you want it aaa-all**_

 _ **Say it now, say it no-oo-ow**_

She looked down right flabbergasted. If I'd ever met someone who needed to play heels to Jesus it was Deanna Monroe. Maybe this song would rev her engine so she could play gorilla with her husband tonight. Lord knows it would make everyone's life a little easier if she wasn't wound so tight.

 _ **Look what you doing, look what you do-on-one**_

 _ **But in this jungle you can't run**_

 _ **Cause what I got for you**_

 _ **I promise is a killer, I'll be banging on your chest**_

 _ **Bang bang, gorilla**_

 _ **Ooh ooh ooh yeah, you and me baby making love like gorillas**_

"Thank you!" Her voice was so high-pitched I was surprised the windows didn't crack. I stopped, taking in her frazzled state, and mentally high-fiving myself. "I, um, I think...well...that's all I need for now...so thank you."

"If you're sure," I replied casually, standing.

She swallowed hard, sweat beading at her forehead. "Yes, thank you very much. You...you have a...a lovely voice."

"Aw, thanks."

Deanna said nothing while she escorted me outside, but then, I didn't expect her to. How did you follow fucking gorillas? Answer, you didn't.

We walked down a set of stairs on the side of the house just as a woman with a cart was collecting our weapons. I stopped, watching while weapon after weapon was reluctantly placed on an old library cart.

"They're still your guns. You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside, we store them for safety."

Deanna could preach about safety until the cows came home, but I wasn't buying it. If this town was raided, by the living or the dead, there would be no time to "check out weapons". This was insane and I wasn't complying. I didn't care if it meant I couldn't stay.

"Um, ma'am," the cart woman said, gesturing to the PPQ on my leg before pushing her coke bottle glasses up her nose.

"You want them?" She nodded nervously. "Then you're going to have to pry them from my cold, dead hands Goggles."

"Alex."

"Red."

Rick and Daryl spoke at the same time, turning to face me. I held my chin high, ignoring Deanna's disapproving look.

"You were a politician," I said to her, "What about our first amendment rights?"

She frowned, "The freedom of religion, speech and press?"

"OK, not the first amendment. The fourth."

"That's protection from unreasonable search and seizure," Glenn corrected, and I glared at him. Not helping man.

"I think you're referring to the second amendment," Deanna interjected.

"Yeah, that one."

"I apologize Alex, I really do, but this rule is non-negotiable. Everyone in the community must surrender their guns or they can't stay."

Daryl tensed beside me, eyes boring into the side of my head as I starred at the ground. Surrendering my gun and rifle hardly left me defenseless, but the thought of being without them made my mouth go dry and hands tremble. I wasn't sure I could do this. I wasn't sure I could live like this. There were too many things that could go wrong.

"Please Aunt Alex."

My eyes flicked to Carl who was holding his little sister, eyes pleading. He'd never asked me for anything until now, and there was literally nothing I wouldn't do for him or Nugget. He wanted to stay. He wanted to believe this community could be our new home. I wouldn't be the one who took that away from him. I stepped forward, taking my PPQ out of my holster and placing it on the cart before unslinging my rifle.

"I'll be seeing you again," I promised, eyeing Goggles who swallowed nervously.

Carol pushed me aside, making a show of handing over her rifle like the bumbling housewife she was pretending to be. "Don't mind her. She's harmless."

The cart woman didn't look swayed, but she returned Carol's smile even laughing briefly when the pretend housewife almost dropped the weapon. Once we were done Rick led us to the house he and Carl picked out earlier. In reality, they'd given us two houses side-by-side, but there was no way we were splitting up. Not after they'd just disarmed us. Deadpool might have a good feeling about this place, but letting our guard down before we were sure what we were dealing with was suicidal.

The inside of the house was much the same as Deanna's, lavishly furnished, clean, and completely unbelievable. There were fresh sheets laid out on a dining room table and extra sets of clothes in multiple sizes. Carl wondered into the kitchen, pausing at the sink. When he turned it on, water spilling from the faucet, everyone stopped and stared. Sasha's hand hovered over a light switch before she flicked it on and off a couple of times, our eyes sliding from the sink to the bulbs in the ceiling. Electricity and running water were two things I never thought I'd see again. Sure we had those things at the prison, kind of, but not like this. Not in essentially unlimited supply, or without backbreaking work.

"Why don't we all get cleaned up?" Rick suggested. "There are two showers upstairs and one in the basement. Abraham, set up a guard rotation."

"Copy that."

Rick stopped next to Daryl and me. "You two can head down to the basement."

I smiled gratefully, but Daryl hesitated, reluctant to leave watch to anyone else. I took his hand, pulling him behind me. He followed, albeit with a considerable amount of grumbling. We did a quick sweep of the basement even though Rick and Carl said they cleared the house before relaxing. We tossed our packs on the queen sized bed in a room with an en suite bathroom. My mouth dropped open when I walked into the bathroom, taking in the clear glass shower, floor to ceiling tile, huge soaker tub, and dual sinks. I ran my fingers over a set of towels, marveling at the softness.

Daryl's boots on the tile startled me, and I glanced at him over my shoulder. His face was tight as he eyed the extravagant bathroom. He'd probably never seen anything so fancy, and it clearly made him uncomfortable.

"I'm going to take a shower," I stated.

Hi eyes sliced to me, the heat in his gaze slamming into me like a physical blow. He licked his lips, curling his hands into fists at his side like he was restraining himself.

"A'right."

I opened the shower door, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. He let out a heavy breath behind me. I turned to face him, my stare holding him in place.

"You're going to join me," I added, pulling my tank top over my head and dropping it to the floor.

"Better."

I smirked, kicking off my boots and unbuttoning my pants. The pressure built in my chest when he took off his vest and pants, but it was a good kind of pressure. The kind that made butterflies swarm in my stomach, and made my heart beat erratically. We hadn't had any time alone since before the prison, and that was a _long_ time ago.

He looked almost hesitant as he joined me in the shower. I smiled softly, taking his hand and pulling him under the spray. I was fairly certain I knew what he was nervous about. I also knew there wasn't anything I could say to put him at ease so I didn't even try. Instead I spoke to him in a way I knew he'd understand, with actions.

I ran my fingers through his hair while he stood in the warm spray, eyes closed, body relaxed. His hair was so long now, completely covering his ears, the ends just brushing the top of his shoulders. I massaged his scalp, enjoying seeing him so peaceful. Daryl almost never let his guard down so when he did it was a sight to see. I plucked a bottle of shampoo off a shelf, squeezing a small amount into my palm and applying it to his filthy hair. He sighed, leaning down slightly so I could reach. I scrubbed vigorously before tipping his head back into the spray. When the shampoo was gone I repeated the action with the conditioner despite his reluctance. He should be thankful it didn't smell like sun-ripened raspberries.

With his hair finally clean I grabbed a bar of soap, twisting it in my hand to lather it up. His breathing hitched when my hands slide across his chest, and I bit my lip, forcing myself to focus. I couldn't remember the last time this man had a proper shower, and god help me I was going to make sure he got clean. It was almost impossible to stop myself from pushing him into the wall and devouring him. I devoted laser like focus to my task, breathing heavy while I scrubbed his impossibly muscular arms. I damn near fainted and I gave extra-special attention to his rock hard abs because...who wouldn't? I was mesmerized by the water droplets trailing down his body. They traveled from his biceps across his chest, and finally down his abs to his strong thighs. I was standing in the shower with the definition of perfection and temptation.

The soapy water washed away the grim and dirt coating his body until it finally ran clear. His eyes were impossibly blue as he watched me, and suddenly I found it hard to breathe, to think, to even stay upright. He smirked slightly, knowing exactly what he did to me, taking the bar of soap and setting it back in the dish. When his hands settled on my hips I shuttered, lips parting slightly. He steered me into the spray, the two of us switching positions as he picked up the bottle of shampoo. Just like I'd done for him he washed my hair and cleaned my body. My chest heaved as his hands roamed my skin, the feel of him touching me the most erotic sensation I'd ever experienced. He wasn't even touching me intimately, but somehow that made it even better. I closed my eyes, in obvious need of things only he could give me.

"Daryl," I moaned when his hand cupped my ass. "Please."

The feel of the cold tile against my bare skin was shock as his much larger frame pushed me back. He leaned down slowly, lips covering mine deliberately, the tip of his tongue coaxing mine open. Not that I needed much persuasion. My entire body was putty as I literally melted against his rock, solid form. There was a time not so long ago when he might hold back during this level of intimacy, but that time had long since passed. He dove right in, kissing me deep, tongue stroking mine while his hands explored my body sensually. All I managed to do was not pass out which I thought deserved a medal. There was rawness in his touch that bespoke of a man intimately familiar with losing what he loved. I knew because I felt the same thing. I kissed him with a fiery passion I reserved for only him. I yielded to his direction, showing softness only he experienced.

I wanted more, needed more, and he obliged, kissing his way down the hollow of my throat as I tilted my head back. I grabbed a handful of his hair, sucking in a harsh breath between clenched teeth when his tongue licked one of my nipples. When he didn't stop there, licking and sucking his way across my chest and my legs shook.

He settled onto his knees in front of me, gently running his fingertips up my inner thigh before urging them further apart. I bit my lip, watching while he slowly hooked my left leg over his shoulder. His blue eyes watched me the entire time he placed feather light kisses against my inner thighs, making me moan in pleasure and wither. He took his time, licking dangerously close to the most sensitive part of me before kissing his way down my leg. He was driving me insane with need. By the time I finally felt his tongue exactly where I wanted it I almost came right there. My insides roared like the cheering section at a football game as I mumbled his name, eyes slamming shut. I had no idea how he able to do what he was able to do this and not drown. Maybe he could hold his breath for a really long time? Rednecks probably considered breathing a crutch only mere mortals needed.

He coaxed me the absolute brink then stopped and changed his rhythm. He would lick and suck, bringing me closer to release again only to stop a millisecond before I came. It was enough to drive a woman mad. I couldn't stop the words that spilled out of my mouth, begging, pleading, swearing things I wouldn't even remember later as long as he delivered on the pleasure he was promising.

"Come for me Red."

Four simple words unraveled me. My body tightened to the point of pain as I braced one hand on the wall, the other twisted in his hair. I cried out his name, unable to stop riding the wave of pleasure. I repeated his name over-and-over like a prayer. My body transformed to jelly, the only thing keeping me upright Daryl's strong arms around my waist as he stood. He kissed my forehead briefly reaching behind me intending to turn off the shower, but I stopped him. I pushed him back, sinking down to my knees in front of him.

"Ya ain't gotta."

I smiled up at him, "I know I don't have to. I _want_ to."

Truth was I wanted to do a lot more than this, but he wasn't ready. He was still shaken from the news of my unexpected pregnancy and subsequent loss. Not that I blamed him. We were relying on falsely advertised contraceptives to combat his Dixon super sperm. That would make anyone nervous, but we would figure it out, eventually.

Twenty glorious minutes later we were dressed and upstairs both noticeably lighter on our feet. I couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face. Daryl looked slightly dazed, like he wasn't sure where he was or how he got there. If I could feel my arms I would pat myself on the back, but as it was I settled for a dopey smile. Deadpool and Maggie both gave me discrete high-fives when I passed while Ariel simply raised an eyebrow, nodding his chin at Daryl. I turned just in time to see him accidentally run into a dining room chair, almost falling. I smiled triumphantly, shrugging. What could I say, I've got game.

"Could've saved that shit for later lil' sister," Merle complained, "Some of us ain't had a hot shower in months."

I rolled my eyes. "There's plenty of hot water left Captain Hook. It's solar powered."

"Y'all were down there for over an hour."

"Really?" It felt like five minutes.

Daryl stumbled again, tripping on nothing but air. He fell into a chair in the kitchen less he break his neck. Merle shook his head, hands on his hips.

"Ya got Darlina staggerin' 'round like he's drunk."

"Don't hate the player, hate the game."

"The fuck's that even mean?" he snapped. When I didn't answer he nudged me with his elbow. "Ya even listenin'?"

"No, I was fantasizing out shower sex with your brother. What was the question?"

He grumbled something I couldn't hear, walking off, only to be replaced by Rick who looked at me like I was a kid who'd busted curfew.

"What?"

"I was just about to send someone to see if you two were alright," he grinned.

"They would've gotten an eyeful."

"I can imagine. And here I thought Judith had a set of lungs on her."

I scrunched my face up in thought. I don't remember screaming at the top of my lungs, but then again there was a solid half hour that was just a blank. It was always like that with Daryl. It was like getting hit with sex lightening.

"What can I say, a shower without sex is an opportunity wasted." His face blushed a brilliant shade of red, but my teasing was put on pause when I noticed his clean-shaven face. "Holy shit, you look 10 years younger Gandalf."

"Hilarious."

"I bet Deadpool liked it, but I'll miss Dumbledore." He squirmed, and now it was my turn to laugh. I decided to let him off the hook. I was such a pushover post-coitus. "Everyone sleeping down here tonight?"

"Yeah, with rotating guard shifts throughout the night like usual."

I nodded, watching the group lay out blankets and pillows around the spacious living room. Daryl was set up over by Nugget so I made my way over, accepting the pillow and blanket Carl set-aside for us with a wink.

There was a knock at the front door, and all conversation in the room ceased. I pulled a knife from my waist, moving in front of Nugget's crib. Rick walked slowly to the door, making sure everyone was ready before he opened it. Ready for what I had no idea, but my grandfather always said nothing good happened after 8:30 p.m. so I was prepared for the worst. It was 9:00 p.m.

Rick opened the door cautiously before swinging it open wide revealing a smiling Deanna, and I groaned. If anything could ruin our night it was the Congresswoman from Ohio's 15th District.

"Listen, I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling." She looked around the living room, shock on her face. "Oh my, staying together. Smart."

Rick stiffened at her side. "No one said we couldn't."

"You said you're a family. That's what you said. Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that, don't you think?"

She sounded genuine, but there was something about it that screamed rehearsed. Maybe my lack of trust had to do with her being a former politician. Maybe it was because everyone here was still a stranger. I didn't know and until I did she could take her fake smiles and rehearsed speeches and shove them.

"Everyone said you gave them jobs?"

"Mmm-hmm. Yeah," she confirmed. She hadn't given me or Daryl one. "Part of this place. Looks like the communist won after all."

"You didn't give me one."

She smiled. "I have. I just haven't told you yet." Rick looked surprised and intrigued, but Deanna gave nothing away. "Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha, and I'm still trying to figure out Mr. and Mrs. Dixon, but I will."

She glanced at us and I met her stare with one of my own. Something told me I wasn't going to be teaching music at the school any time soon.

"Speaking of which, could I talk to you outside for a second."

Rick rubbed his hand on his chin thoughtfully before nodding and following her onto the porch. When he closed the door everyone started talking at once.

"What is that about?" Maggie.

"Is something wrong?" Beth.

"Are they going to make us leave?" Carl.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Carol.

Thankfully we were spared the guessing game as the front door opened and then subsequently slammed. Rick looked downright stunned, taking a second to collect himself. When he finally did his cop face was firmly in place and it was directed at me.

"Alex..." he started, hands on his hips as he took a measured breath. Oh shit, he was pissed.

"I can explain."

He raised a single eyebrow. "You can?"

"Yes."

As soon as he told me what it was I needed to explain. He waited a full minute for me to come back from the land of silent movies. When I didn't he stomped forward, high heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"Did you say something to Deanna about...fornicating gorillas?"

Ariel and Merle busted out laughing. Daryl dropped his head in his hands, and Deadpool gave me a _"what the fuck"_ look. No one else looked even a little bit shocked at the subject matter of my interview.

"No," I clarified and he released a breath he was holding. "What I said had to do with gorillas fuc..."

"Same thing Alex!"

"Oh, well then yeah, I did."

"Tell me you didn't sing about it too?"

"Not _just_ that, I also sang about cocaine and..."

"Just stop," he huffed.

"You said you'd try," Deadpool accused, crossing her arms over her chest. I looked between her and Rick, my temper flaring.

"I am trying." They both scowled. "Captain Hook talked about tits, and Ariel somehow managed to work pubs into his interview, and I don't see you giving them the 5th degree."

Rick's head swiveled to the two offenders who had the good sense to look ashamed.

"Jesus Christ," he exclaimed before returning his attention to me. Apparently fucking gorillas was worse than tits and pubs combined. Go figure. "Gorillas? Really?"

"The woman stuck a camera in my face and interviewed me like I was doing a diary confessional for The Real World. She should count herself lucky the worst thing I said had to do with fornicating gorillas."

And technically I didn't promise I would try. I promised not to murder face anyone, and I hadn't. No one said anything about fornicating gorillas being off the table.

Rick looked at a loss for words, turning on a high heel and leaving, Deadpool following close behind. Once they were out of earshot Ariel and Merle promptly reached into the packs at their feet, pulling out a can of ABCs and 123s each. They walked over to me, obediently placing the cans in front of me on the kitchen table.

"Gorillas fucking?" Ariel asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Pubs were a nice try." He tipped his head back, laughing as he walked away. I turned my attention to Merle. "I expected more from you bro."

"I froze," he admitted shyly.

"Better luck next time." I collected my cans, stashing them in Daryl's pack who waited patiently for an explanation. "Payoff from a bet."

"What was it?"

"Who could say the most inappropriate thing during their interview."

"Ya won in a landslide." He grinned, looking out the window. "Can't beat fuckin' gorillas."

"Damn straight."

* * *

 **Well, they have officially landed in Alexandria. Ladies and gentleman start your engines...LOL.**

 **What did you guys think? Alex certainly made an impression. :)**

 **FYI, the song she's singing is Gorilla by Bruno Mars.**


	53. The Calm Before The Storm

**The Calm Before The Storm**

"Watcha think?"

I bit my lip, walking closer to the perimeter fence and pushing against the reinforced wall. The structure as a whole was decent, but there were noticeable gaps where the screws were rusted causing structural integrity problems. If you pushed just enough the metal bent away from the steel beams, allowing more than enough room for walkers and humans alike.

I sighed, turning and eyeing the copious amount of trees surrounding the town with growing concern. Any of them would provide an excellent vantage point for someone to set up a snipers nest that would give them an unimpeded view of 90% of the compound. It wasn't difficult to imagine someone sitting up there picking people off one at a time, leaving us with no way to defend ourselves.

Our one and only defense against such an attack was the clock tower, but as far as I could tell it wasn't utilized as a lookout point. None of this even account for the lackluster gate guards which were as useless as a concrete parachute. All-in-all the entire setup was like a scene straight out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

"I think we need to get our guns back," I answered, turning to look at Ariel and Merle.

"Wouldn't be hard to take it by force," Ariel mused, stroking his goatee thoughtfully, "These people are temptin' karma livin' like this. As soon as she's done sharpenin' her nails she's gonna fuck 'em in the ass without the courtesy of a reach around."

"And yet, I get yelled at for fucking gorillas."

Merle chuckled, slapping me on the shoulder as the three of walked back to our house. It was our first official day in Alexandria, and we were all using the time to adjust. And by adjust I meant spy, collect information, and deceive. Some may call it paranoia, I liked to think of it as being prepared.

"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep," Carol threatened, eyeing Daryl over her shoulder as she walked down the sidewalk. "Afternoon guys."

Her 100-watt smile was so big and so fake it nearly blinded me. I didn't understand how anyone was falling for her harmless, housewife routine. The immaculately clean dress pants, crisp, white button down shirt, and blue sweater helped mask her arsonist tendencies, but you couldn't hide _everything_ under heinous clothes. Her eyes gave her away. They were calculating and ruthless.

"You look ridiculous!" Daryl yelled, perched on the railing messing with his crossbow.

"Is it just me or does the female Mr. Rogers routine just make it that much more disturbing?" I asked no one in particular. Ariel and Merle nodded in agreement, the three of us giving Carol a wide birth when she strolled by.

"Alex, Daryl, help!"

My head snapped to the left, chest constricting in fear when I saw Beth running down the road. I ran forward, catching her as Daryl hopped off the porch, crossbow ready.

"What happened? What's wrong?" I searched her for any signs of harm. She had some blood splatter on her shirt and tears streaking down her face, but I saw no bites or scratches.

"It's Aiden," she panted, trying to pull herself together. "He took us on a practice run, told us we had to do what he said, but they're stringing up walkers. One of them got lose, and it almost killed Tara."

By the time she was done I was so pissed I was shaking. "Where?"

"Everyone's by the front gate."

I was gone before she finished her sentence, ignoring the shouts of everyone behind me. Lieutenant Douchebag had failed to mention he was in charge of scavenging when I ran across him earlier this morning. Not only did that piss me off, but it also made me seriously questions Deanna's management skills. I knew he was her son, but he was the definition of inept. The fact he put our people at risk made my blood boil.

I rounded the corner just in time to see him squaring off with Glenn who looked ready to throttle the slightly younger man. Noah and Tara stood off to the side, shaken, but unharmed from what I could see. Aiden must have a guardian angel. Our people being uninjured was the only thing saving his miserable life.

"You tied up walkers!" Glenn accused, "You put us all at risk!"

"It killed our friend!"

I inserted myself between the pair, pushing on Aiden's chest to drive him back. The asshole actually smiled, the idea of me breaking up the argument downright hilarious to him. Not that I could blame him. I was, after all, only a struggling singer.

"Need something gorgeous."

He licked his lips suggestively, eyes dragging slowly over my body. I'd give the kid points for arrogance. Absolutely none for intelligence though. I shook my head at him. He had a better chance of being killed by a vending machine than whatever fucked up sexual fantasy he was imaging right now coming true. I straighten my spine, standing up to my full height, and smirking internally when I easily saw over the top of his head.

"You better back off, now."

My voice was barely more than a whisper, but it dripped with the promise of violence he completely ignored.

"Or what?" He looked at the growing crowd, playing up the drama. "You're not a part of my crew, and if you were you'd have to do what I say. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm the motherfucker who _doesn't_ get people killed." He stepped into my personal space, so close I could smell the coffee he'd had this morning for breakfast. "You must be the other guy."

"Say that again," he threatened.

"If you don't get out of my face you're gonna bleed. I won't ask again."

He shoved my shoulder, "Listen you red-headed bitch..."

I swung my left arm, putting all my weight behind the punch. My fist connected with his jaw, an audible crack snapping his head to the side, a line of blood shooting from his mouth. He stumbled back before losing his footing entirely and tumbling to the ground with a muffled cry, hands covering his face, copious amounts of blood dripping between his fingers.

"You broke my fucking nose!"

I didn't realize the guys were behind me until the three of them took a menacing step forward, eyeing Nicholas who was standing a few paces back with his finger wrapped on the trigger of a semi-automatic rifle. Apparently Aiden's friend had _some_ self-preservation instincts. He raised both his hands high in the air, taking a step away from the man crying on the ground.

"I asked you nicely," I replied, peering down at Aiden.

"Aiden!"

Deanna came barreling down the street like a mini-tornado, eyes wide as she took in the scene. It took her several seconds to catch her breath, and form a coherent sentence once she stopped in front of us. She looked at me, her son, then back at me. I simply shrugged. My handiwork spoke for itself. She pressed her lips into a hard line, helping her son to his feet. I took the time to properly check Noah, Tara, and Glenn who'd moved to stand behind the Dixon brothers.

"You guys good?" I asked.

"Gotta be," Noah smiled, but he didn't look good. He looked seriously freaked out. Whatever happened was bad. We'd seen a lot so it took more than your average bullshit to freak us out.

"What is going on here?" Deanna's question was posed to the group.

"You should teach your son it isn't polite to put your hands on people," I answered, "He's lucky all he got was a bloody nose."

Her head swiveled to her son, and it was obvious she was shocked which was puzzling. I'd pegged the kid as a dick within 30 seconds of running into him. Had his mother spent no significant time with him?

"These guys have a problem with how we do things," Aiden explained, still holding his broken nose. I was downright elated to see the black bruises already blooming beneath his eyes. "Why did you let them in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn stated.

Aiden's face transformed instantly, pure rage pulsating off him. He lunged for Glenn with a feral snarl, but never got close. Daryl intercepted him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with a knee to his solar plex.

Ariel slammed Nicholas against a wall, ripping the rifle out of his hands like he was taking a toy from Nugget. Aiden's friend didn't even attempt to hide his terror, a line of tears trailing down his dirty face.

Merle acted as deterrent, casually waving his knife stub at the group of people hovering nearby discouraging them from coming any closer. It worked. No one in their right mind wanted to tangle with a one-handed redneck.

Deanna screamed for everyone to stop, and everyone ignored her. Rick and Deadpool sprinted through the gate, eyes wide, trying to determine who to restrain and in what order. The pair broke apart, Rick trying to talk Daryl into not squashing Aiden like a bug. Deadpool had her hands full trying to convince Ariel it was a good idea to let Nicholas' feet touch solid ground.

I didn't move, standing still in the middle of the mayhem. I'd already knocked Deanna's son the fuck out so I figured there was no need to add to my star chart for today. I got in trouble last night for fucking gorillas. There would be hell to pay for this.

Rick continued to try and wrestle Daryl off Aiden while Deadpool finally persuaded Ariel to release his friend. Both men were so freaked out they looked ready to piss themselves, if they hadn't already. They were so soft they made the Stay Puff Marshmallow man look hard.

"That is enough!" Deanna screamed, but again no one listened.

Rick grunted, driving his legs into the ground, and was finally able to pull my husband off Aiden. Daryl made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a snarl, a clear sign of his annoyance, but let Rick push him further away. Since this was hardly Rick's first rodeo he made a point of keeping his body between the livid redneck and Lieutenant Douchebag. When my husband didn't retaliate, content to pace and seethe, his eyes slid to me, a single eyebrow raised in questions.

"He started it." I shrugged, pointing at Lieutenant Douchebag.

"Screw you!"

Aiden's retaliation was short lived. Before he could get close to me Deadpool stepped in his path.

"You wanna get knocked on your ass again?" She was a full head shorter than him, but the ferocity in her voice and downright scariness more than made up the difference. I didn't know anyone who would willingly tangle with the woman. "No one will stop her this time."

Technically no one stopped me the first time, but I appreciated the support.

Daryl paced back-and-forth behind me with Rick shadowing his every move. I turned slightly, catching his hand when he passed, and he finally stopped. I pulled him to my side, and he took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing, slightly. With everyone relatively calm Deanna looked at the crowd, displeasure wafting off her. I bet this was the most exciting day these posers had ever experienced. For us, this was a normal Tuesday.

"I want everyone to hear me, OK? Rick and his people are part of this community now. In all ways! As equals! Understood?!"

The last part was directed at her son who shook his head in clear disagreement, but muttered, "Understood."

"All of you turn in your weapons," she ordered, turning to face her son and his friend. "And you two, come talk to me."

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving just our group and Deanna standing there. The adrenaline was still pumping through Daryl making his body shake slightly. I squeezed his hand in an effort to calm him down, but it had little effect. He ground his teeth together, eyes boring into Deanna.

"I told you I had a job for you. I'd like you to be our constable. That's what you were. That's what you are." She smiled at Rick who swallowed hard, clearly shocked by the offer. "You too."

If Rick was surprised by the job Deadpool looked downright astonished though I wasn't sure why. She was a natural peacekeeper, and her and Rick made a good team. It was a solid job offer though ridiculous given the state of the world.

"Will you accept?"

"OK," Rick finally answered, looking at Deadpool.

"Yeah, I'm in."

Daryl couldn't take anymore. He pulled his hand out of mine, long legs burning up the distance as he left. Deanna looked disappointed in his reaction, but not surprised. She turned her thoughtful gaze in my direction, a small smile on her weathered face.

"Thank you."

I frowned, "For what?"

"For knocking him on his ass."

"Well in that case, it was my pleasure." Maybe she did know her son was a douchebag after all. "Is that my new job? Knocking people on their ass?"

She snorted in amusement. "I have a feeling it just might be Alex."

Later that night Merle, Daryl and I sat outside on the porch stewing in discomfort born from uncertainty. We didn't talk, but we then again we didn't need to. We were all thinking the same thing.

Were we going to stay here?

Could we really make this work?

The door opened suddenly, Rick walking out sporting a uniform, a Sherriff's uniform.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't Officer Friendly," Merle drawled from his spot on top of the railing. Rick smiled self-consciously, adjusting the jacket. "Ya gonna be handcuffin' people to roofs when they misbehave?"

Daryl tensed at the mention of the ill-fated Atlanta run, but Rick smiled, running a nervous hand over his face.

"If they start popping off rounds from said roof while high as a kite I might have to."

Merle tilted his head back, responding to the jab with a full-belly laugh. Man, talk about water under the bridge. I never thought these two would be able to share the same space without death threats, and now here they were, joking about amputations.

"Yur a cop again?" Daryl asked, slightly more relaxed.

"Tryin' it on for size."

Carol walked out, eyeing the Sheriff's uniform, nose scrunched up in disapproval. "So we're staying?"

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes. Settle in."

"If we get comfortable here, let our guard down, this place is going to make us weak," she warned.

"Carl said the same thing." Rick turned to me. "What do you think?"

I took a deep breath, looking at the deserted streets. "This place is a full on Picasso. From a distance it's beautiful, but once you look closer you realize it's a mess."

Rick nodded, considering my assessment, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work, and if they can't make it," he turned to look at us. "Then we'll just take this place."

Daryl took a long drag from his cigarette, looking at me expectantly.

"Viva la revolución," I smiled.

He snorted, gesturing to me. "Whatever the fuck she said."

Rick nodded, all of us in agreement. We would try to fit in, but we had our backup plan which really wasn't different than our original plan. Man, I loved a good coup.

"We call dibbs on the basement room with the en-suite," I said quickly before Merle could claim it.

"Goddamn it." He looked like Nugget when she was about to cry. "Y'all better keep it down."

I snorted, "No promises Captain Hook."

The next morning Daryl, Carol, Rick, and I were out at the rundown house just outside of Alexandria. Rick had stashed a handgun in a Vitamix right before Aaron took us through the gates a few days ago. When he came out here yesterday to get it he found it missing. The odds of someone simply stumbling across it was somewhere in the realm of not-fucking-likely.

"I don't see it, but its close," Daryl announced, looking behind the shack for the approaching walker we could hear, but couldn't see. "There's just one of 'em."

"We won't be here long," Rick assured us.

"That's good because the four of us disappearing at the same time is sure to raise a few eyebrows," I added, leaning back to see how far away the walker was.

He nodded, looking to Carol. "What do you think?"

"We go in when it's empty."

"At night," I offered, "I can be in and out in less than five minutes."

I'd pursued the armory under the guise of helping Goggles carry in some munitions before we left. She was too scared of me to say no, and it gave me the perfect chance to scope out their non-existent security. Nugget had more safety features on her pack-n-play.

"After yesterday there's too many eyes on you Alex," Carol insisted. "There's a window. It's secured with a latch. I'll just leave it open."

The three of us paused. The fact you could break into the arms room by unlocking a window was baffling.

"A latch?"

Rick sounded as disgusted as I felt. I didn't feel bad about stealing our shit now. Someone needed to teach these dicks a lesson.

"What if one of those pricks shuts it?" Daryl questioned.

Carol shrugged, "I'll wait a couple of days and leave it open again. No one pays me a second glance. I can get it done."

"They're gonna pay you a few glances if you keep wearing those god awful sweaters." I eyed the pink monstrosity covered in crocheted flowers, barely able to contain my shutter of revulsion. "Is that one of Nugget's art projects?"

"Shut up."

The walker snarled, and all our hands strayed to our weapons.

"It's gettin' closer."

"Alright, Carol you do it. Right now they're not watching us. Not worrying about meetings like this. We may need the guns. We may not."

"Oh, we're gonna need them," I commented, moving to the house, and the approaching walker.

"We will, whichever way this goes."

Daryl glanced at me, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Carol sounded cold, detached, and I was reminded she may look like a Girl Scout den mother, but she wasn't one. She'd killed two people in cold blood. Listening to how casually she talked about the prospect of taking out an entire community it wasn't difficult to imagine.

"They're the luckiest damn people I ever met," Rick pondered, "And they just keep getting luckier."

"How's that?" Daryl asked.

"We're here now."

Solid point.

"They've got a couple of footlockers just full of 9 millimeter autos, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. Just tossed in there. They don't use them. They're never gonna know they're gone."

It was amazing these people were still alive. What was more astonishing was the living hadn't strolled up to the place, and taken it all by force.

"Someone's got one now, right?" Daryl pointed at the Vitamix, and Rick put his hands on his hips.

I wasn't worried about one guy with a handgun. We'd survived a tank for cryin' out loud.

"Have you seen any explosives in there Carol?" They all turned to look at me. "What? In case we need to pull a Terminus."

"Ya ain't getting' no more bombs Red."

I huffed, "Fine, I'll make my own."

"Why do I feel like you aren't joking?"

I eyed Rick, "Because...I'm not."

He looked to Carol and my husband for confirmation and they both nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"I'd like to point out my explosives have saved our asses on several occasions."

"Also damn near blew us sky high," Daryl grumbled, and I shot him a glare.

"Listen, explosive's aside, I want the others to give this place a try," Rick insisted.

"You too Mr. and Mrs. Dixon."

I scoffed at Carol, "I am trying."

"Oh, is that what you were doing yesterday with Aiden?"

"Says the woman plotting to steal the nuclear launch codes out from under them."

"Enough, _we all try_." Carol smirked, and I rolled my eyes. "We keep this quiet. Just us." The walker finally shuffled out of the woods, growling and snarling. "Here he comes."

"I got 'em."

"Hey wait." Carol marched up, firing off eight rounds, seven to the body before she put one directly in his forehead, finally killing him. "We said you were taking me out shooting. I couldn't go back with a full mag."

"Lucky he came by."

"We should get back. You'll pull the latch, and we'll pick our moment. Us, we don't need to be lucky."

"What is that?" I asked, kneeling beside the walker.

"Is that a W?"

Rick leaned over, inspecting the body. "Yeah."

"Why would someone do that?" Carol asked, eyes darting around the woods.

"You heard Aiden yesterday, they string up walkers as punishment for killing their friends. Maybe they carved one up too?"

"No," I leaned closer, fingers probing the W. "This was carved into him while he was still alive."

"How do you know that?"

I gestured for Rick to come closer. "See how the wound started to heal around the edges?" He nodded. "Walkers are dead. Their skin can't regenerate."

We were silent as we contemplated the ramifications. It could be nothing, but there was something about it that felt sinister. I'd participated in my fair share of torture, but I'd never branded anyone. Maybe I was looking for things that weren't there, but this made my temperamental third eye twitch.

"Alright, we keep this to ourselves, but keep your eyes open out here. I don't like it," Rick stated, standing.

"Since we're out here we're gonna hunt."

Daryl and I said our goodbyes to Rick and Carol, promising to check in once we got back. We headed east in search of animals. Neither of us were willing to rely on the Alexandrian food pantry, or spend the day stewing inside the compound. We hadn't been walking for more than a half hour when I heard the first signs someone was behind us. Daryl's head turned slightly, the only indication he heard it also. It was times like these I loved our Vulcan mind meld.

"I'm going to use the ladies room," I announced, breaking off from his side. "Catch up with you in a few."

"Be careful."

I walked to the left, smiling at him. "I love you too honey."

Once I was thoroughly cloaked by the dense forest vegetation I picked up my pace, circling around to get behind our uninvited guest. I drew my PPQ, using the sound of their footsteps like a homing beacon to track them. When I rounded a tree, weapon raised, I wasn't the least bit surprised to find Aaron. I stepped forward, pressing the barrel of my weapon against the back of his head. He froze, hands going up immediately.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"Come out! Now!" Daryl yelled, crossbow aimed in our direction. I whistled, three notes, and he relaxed instantly. "Ya a'right Red?"

"Fine."

I dropped my weapon, strolling past a still shocked Aaron. He walked forward slowly, hands raised in surrender, and I sighed heavily.

"You guys can tell the difference between walkers and humans just by sound?"

Daryl glared at him, refusing to answer.

"You can put your hands down," I said, gesturing to him.

"Oh, right." He let his hands fall, eyes going back-and-forth between us. "Can you also tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

He said it like a joke, but there was an undercurrent of truth to his statement. He really wanted to know. The real question was why?

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl snarled, taking a step closer.

"Is that how you feel about your people?"

"Why ya followin' us?" His tone made Aaron swallow hard.

"I...I didn't know I was. I came out to hunt rabbits." Daryl's eyes flicked to me, and I nodded to let him know it was the truth. Aaron's mouth fell open, a slight smile on his face. "You guys can, can't you? Tell the difference?"

"Ain't none of yur concern."

"Fair enough," he offered undeterred by my husband's gruff tone. I had to give the man credit. Lesser men had faced Daryl's surly side, and failed to maintain their poise. "Mind if I join you?"

Daryl glanced at me and I shrugged. Whatever. He obviously had an agenda so the sooner he spit it out the sooner he'd go away.

"Keep up," Daryl ordered, pivoting on his heel and stalking off. "And keep quiet."

Aaron looked at me with a shy smile. "I don't think he likes me."

"He doesn't," I deadpanned, following the hubby. "Neither do I."

"Oh, well, OK then."

We walked through the woods at a good clip, and I could hear Aaron's labored breathing behind us. I glanced over my shoulder every so often to check on him though I wasn't sure why. I'd be able to hear his mouth breathing from the next county.

Daryl put up a hand, slowing down. I heard what sounded like a horse neighing, but that couldn't be right, could it? He pushed through the brush into a small opening and there he was, a beautiful black horse.

"I've been trying to catch him for months. Bring him inside," Aaron explained, not surprised to see the magnificent animal. "His name's Buttons." Daryl and I glanced at him and he laughed, embarrassed. "One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back. Thought he looked like a Buttons. I haven't seen him for a while. I was afraid it was too late."

He took off his pack, setting down his rifle. If I didn't know better I'd say he was going to try to corral the animal.

"Every time Eric or I come close, he gets spooked." Daryl slung his crossbow across his back, taking the rope from him. "Have you done this before?"

"My group did, but they weren't out there that long. The longer they're out there, the more they become what they really are," Daryl explained, creeping closer.

"What does that mean?"

I smiled at Aaron, patting him on the shoulder. "I've got a redneck dictionary I'll let you borrow."

He laughed, the two of us hanging back while Daryl got his Urban Cowboy on.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya." He held the rope with two hands, slowly advancing on the wild animal. "A'right? Come on, boy. Yeah, just keep on eatin'. Yeah." He made a clicking sound with his tongue, and the horse responded immediately, head swinging in his direction. "Yeah, ya used to be somebody's, huh? Now you're just yurs."

"Amazing," Aaron marveled, watching with wide eyes.

"I know, his ass is phenomenal, right?"

Aaron frowned, "Wait, what?"

Out of nowhere a group of walkers appeared, startling the horse who reared back on his hind legs in distress. Aaron fumbled with his rifle, caught off guard by their sudden appearance. I took a step forward, raising my PPQ and squeezing off two rounds, two walkers dropping dead.

I ran into the clearing, knife in one hand, PPQ in the other. I ducked under the outstretched hands of a walker, lunging to the right in order to create the distance I needed to circle back around and stab her in the head. Daryl quickly stabbed two more while I handled a third. We both finished at the same time, flinching when a shot came from behind us. A walker 10 feet away fell to the ground, and we turned slowly to look at Aaron who was disconcertingly pale.

"You good?" I asked, Daryl already running after the horse, crossbow in his hands.

"Well, yeah, I guess, I mean..."

"Answers gotta be," I interrupted, chasing after Daryl. When I didn't hear Aaron following I glanced over my shoulder. "Come on, put some pep in your step!"

Daryl easily picked up the horses tracks, confidently leading us through the woods. It never ceased to amaze me how comfortable he was out here, how competent. It was _hot_. I sighed dreamily, licking my lips while I fantasized about him using his powerful legs to...

"Stop Red."

His admonishment startled me causing me to trip over an exposed root. He sent a sly wink over his shoulder Aaron missed in his haste to help me.

"How Katniss? Seriously?"

He snorted, pressing his hand against a non-existent depression in the ground before standing up and changing directions.

"Did you ride horses?" Aaron inquired.

"I ride bikes." I thought about his motorcycle and started panting. I missed seeing him on that thing. Now that was hot. "Red, focus."

"You are no fun," I grumbled, shelving my fantasies.

"How long have you two been married?"

Daryl and I stopped in unison, turning slowly to face the Alexandrian recruiter. His eyes were comically huge as he realized he'd crossed a line, but unsure why.

"A while," we said in unison.

Aaron nodded like a bobble head, "Yeah, that's what I figured. You two make an excellent couple. I'm sure everyone else sees that too." We said nothing, and he continued to ramble. "I just mean I understand that you both might feel like outsiders, and that isn't your fault. Eric and I, we're still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We've heard our fair share of well-meaning, but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women. People are people."

Daryl was done listening to the monologue, turning and walking off without comment.

"Is that kind of reaction good or bad? I can't tell."

I smirked at Aaron, "Do you have an arrow in your ass?" His mouth dropped open, and he shook his head no while checking his ass with one hand just to be on the safe side. "Then it's going amazing. Trust me."

In hindsight perhaps we should have mentioned to Aaron that a key aspect of tracking was silence. It was only a few seconds later that he continued his oration, droning on-and-on about the ins-and-outs of human behavior. I'd never been to college, but I imagined it was a lot like this, so boring it made you mildly suicidal.

"The more afraid people get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain. They're scared of you, and me, for different reasons. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You two should go to Deanna's party tonight."

"I'm not sure I'm invited."

Aaron frowned. "Why wouldn't you be invited?"

"I gave her son unsolicited rhinoplasty."

"I heard she thanked you for that," he smiled.

She might have enjoyed it, but I wasn't sure the same could be said for Lieutenant Douchebag. The mere thought of spending the evening surrounding by strangers and someone I'd bitch slapped made my skin crawl.

"We got nothing to prove," Daryl added, "We met a lot of bad people out here doing a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothing."

"Yeah, they were."

We heard the signature sound of walkers growling up ahead and jogged out of the woods. The horse was inside a small fence, a few walkers boxing him in.

"Gotta move quick. He's pinned in with 'em."

I ran into the pen, Daryl heading left, Aaron right while I went straight up the middle. I heard the mechanical whirl of Daryl's crossbow just as I sank my knife into the head of walker. A muffled scream made me turn sharply to the right just in time to see Aaron fall. I sprinted to him as he struggled to break the walker's hold. I threw my knife, a second walker closing in dropping dead. I pushed my legs harder, lunging forward, my hand wrapping around the neck of a walker about to take a bite out of his arm. I threw her to the ground, lifting my leg and crushing her decayed skull with my boot, grimacing when blood and brain matter splattered my jeans.

"Nasty," I exclaimed, eyeing the goop.

"Thanks," Aaron said, panting hard as he stood and took aim at the last walker. He fired, and her head exploded.

"Thanks," I offered.

We found the horse at the top of a hill just as a group of walkers pulled him down. His distressed whines made me cringe and tears pool in my eyes. We watched as the walkers tore him to pieces, chewing on his flesh and internal organs like they were at an all you could eat buffet. Daryl unsheathed a knife, walking forward.

"I got the ones on the right," he growled.

I sniffled, retrieving another knife from my waist. "I got the ones on the left."

"Wait, which one's should I get?"

In the end he got none as Daryl and I systematically eliminated the walkers. By the time we were done I was crying hard, but had no memory of starting. Daryl put a hand on my arm, pulling me away from the animal, and gesturing to Aaron.

"Go ahead."

The horse was still alive, barely, suffering in unimaginable agony. He lifted his enormous head, breathing coming in short, rattling wheezes. I looked into his black eyes, and felt my lips tremble, Daryl's arm going around my waist. Aaron tentatively raised his rifle, hands shaking as he put the poor animal out of its misery.

"He always ran," Aaron mumbled.

"Ya were tryin' to help him."

Daryl tugged on my hand, leading us back to Alexandria. No one spoke and for the first time since meeting Aaron I wished for his rambling chatter. Anything would have been better than remembering the animal's slow, painful death.

It was a million times worse int he house. I sat on the bed in our new room, dressed in new clean clothes with my hair washed and hanging down my back. It was so quiet I could hear people talking on the street outside. I wished for an escape, something to drown out the screaming silence.

Daryl stepped out of the bathroom freshly showered, sporting his own set of clean clothes. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt, self-consciously messing with a few strands of hair that fell in his eyes despite repeated attempts to stop it. I stood and walked to him, smiling as I ran my fingers through his hair, carefully moving it out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ears. He noticed my hands shaking, his large hands encircling my wrist.

"We ain't gotta go."

"We need to try."

We needed to try and fit in, try and be...normal. He nodded solemnly, taking my hand and leading us outside. I think he already knew what I'd yet to realize, we would never be normal, and we would never fit in here.

With each step we took towards Deanna's house my nerves increased until my stomach hurt and my body was quivering. Daryl glanced at me, opting to stop a few feet from the house where we were obscured by trees. I could see the silhouette of people through the lace curtains, heard laughter, even music. It should have calmed me down, but it sent my senses into overdrive. There were strangers in there, lots of them, and the thought made my mouth go dry. My feet were rooted in place. I wouldn't have been able to walk in that house right now if my life depended on it. Give me walkers, give me danger, give me certain death, give me anything but this.

"I can't," I admitted, taking a step back. Daryl turned and even in the dark I could see the worry etched on his handsome face. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

"A'right."

He said nothing else, asked no questions, didn't try to talk me down. He simply took my hand and walked us away from the party. I felt ashamed and guilty as we made our way back to the house. How were we ever going to fit in here if we couldn't go to a simple welcome party? I already knew the answer and it made me grind my teeth in despair, for my husband, for myself. The truth was obvious, we wouldn't.

A porch light flicked on and we froze. "Daryl, Alex, hey."

My greeting died on my lips, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, but Daryl came to the rescue, addressing Aaron. "Thought ya were goin' to that party over there?"

He smiled, putting his hands in his pocket. "Oh, I was never going to go because of Eric's ankle, thank god."

Daryl didn't like being manipulated. He straighten his shoulders, taking a half step in front of me. Aaron couldn't see the way he rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb, keeping me grounded despite my freak out.

"Why the hell ya tell us to go then?"

"I said try. You did. It's a thought that counts thing."

At first Daryl said nothing, just stared at Aaron who stared right back. I continued taking deep breaths, trying and failing to pull myself together.

"A'right." Daryl's response was an obvious dismissal, and not a cheery one at that, but Aaron wasn't deterred.

"Hey, why don't the two of you come in? Have some dinner?" Neither of us answered, Daryl considering the offer while I considered if I'd ever be able to breath normally again. "Come on, it's some pretty serious spaghetti."

My ears perked up, "Spaghetti?"

Aaron chuckled, going inside and leaving us to decide. On one hand we could go home where it was relatively safe and there were no strangers, or we could go inside and have spaghetti with two veritable strangers.

"Whatcha wanna do?"

I fidgeted, looking up-and-down the street. "I mean, he said spaghetti. How do we say no to that?"

I would literally kill for spaghetti.

"Yur always thinkin' with yur stomach."

"So we're going?"

He smirked, "Yeah, lord knows you'll be hell to deal with if I don't feed ya."

"Great."

This time it was me leading him as I drug him up the stairs and into the house. The second I walked through the door the aroma of tomatoes and spices slammed into me and I moaned, my mouth watering in anticipation.

"Ya keep makin' noises like that we ain't stayin' for spaghetti," Daryl promised, gaze heated.

"Spaghetti first, wild monkey sex second."

"Ain't doin' much for my ego Red."

I patted his chest affectionately, "You give good lovin' baby."

"Just not as good as spaghetti?" While I considered his question he rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching. "Come on, let's feed the beast."

I followed my nose to the dining room where I almost passed out. There was a bowl full of steaming, hot spaghetti sitting in the middle of the table, garlic bread and even a bottle of wine. _One_ of those things was enough to make me come on the spot, but all three, holy shit, I was about to show these guys how it was done.

"I'll bet that's...quite a sight," Eric laughed, eyes dancing with amusement.

My mouth fell open and I looked to Daryl. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

He just rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair for me before taking the one to my right.

"I almost didn't recognize you Alex," Eric said, making small talk. Uncomfortable with the attention I my shoulders hunched. I started pulling my hair out of my face, twisting it into a bun. "No, please, I didn't mean...you look beautiful."

I focused on his face, looking for any signs of deceit or manipulation. He was an open book, not bothering to hide a single emotion, and what I saw was a man who spoke the truth. He meant no ill-intent. He wanted nothing in return.

"Thank you."

Aaron started rambling, about what I had no idea, but the sound of his voice was oddly soothing. I kept my attention focused on the spaghetti as he doled out huge portions onto our waiting plates. Eric offered us bread and I nodded, grabbing two pieces and dropping one unceremoniously on Daryl's plate. The eyes of my counterpart never strayed from his food.

"Please, go ahead," Eric offered.

Ding. Ding.

Honestly, I couldn't tell you what happened in the next 10 minutes. One second I was staring at a plate overflowing with food, and the next I staring at plate I was pretty sure I'd licked clean. I was also sporting an impressive food baby. I was seriously considering unbuttoning my jeans. Daryl's slurping drew my attention. I turned just in time to see him finish his own dinner, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. We were two classy motherfuckers.

"Thanks," he mumbled absently.

"Mmm, sure," Eric grinned, "When you're guys are out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker, and we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something. I really think she just wants something to talk about, so if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to..."

He stopped abruptly, finally noticing we had no idea what he was talking about. He looked at Aaron who did nothing, but blink at him in return.

"I thought it was done. You didn't ask them already?"

Aaron nodded his head no, and I reached for my half empty glass of wine, but Daryl snagged the glass, placing it out of my reach. He gave me a knowing look that made me pout as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"It was one time man."

He ignored me, directing his question to the couple. "Ask us what?"

Instead of answering Aaron stood, gesturing for us to follow. He took us into an attached garage stocked full of motorcycle parts.

"When I got the place, there was that frame, some parts and equipment. Whoever lived here built them."

Daryl picked up a few things, inspecting them. "It's a lot of parts for one bike."

Yeah, I didn't know anything about motorcycles, but I was pretty sure you only needed one set of handlebars.

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it." He hesitated and I knew whatever he had to tell us he was working up the nerve to say. "And the thing is, you're going to need a bike."

"Why?"

Daryl's tone indicated he was suspicious, not that I could blame him. Nothing in this world was free. Everything had a price, a cost, and this was no different. I worked it out only seconds before Aaron dropped the proverbial bomb.

Out of everyone in our group Daryl and I were the only ones who didn't have a job. Coincidence? I think not. Even Merle, the sexist, inappropriate, joke wielding redneck had a profession. Ariel, the hulking, red-head with a heavy trigger finger had one as well.

"I told Deanna not to give either of you jobs because I think I have one. I'd like you and Alex to help me recruit. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."

I couldn't say the decision shocked me. The two of us were best suited for something recruiting. It had the added bonus of giving us an escape from this place on a regular basis. If Daryl was surprised he didn't show it. In fact, he gave nothing away. That was until he turned to face Aaron, eyes so intense I was amazed they didn't burn a hole straight through the man.

"Don't want Eric riskin' his life, but ya want me risking mine, right?" Aaron opened his mouth to refute the implication, but Daryl wasn't done. "Ain't got no problems askin' _my wife_ to risk hers."

His tone made Aaron flinch.

" _Your wife_ , can answer for herself."

This was always a sticking point for us. We both wanted the other safe, but in reality there was no such thing as safety. At least if we did this we would be together, no matter what happened. The only person I trusted to watch his back was me, and he felt the same. Aaron seemed like an OK guy, but he was an average shot with zero self-defense skills. Unless you considered speaking in run-on sentences a form of self-defense which was a possibility. Five minutes into our impromptu hunting trip today I wanted to kill myself.

Aaron cleared his throat, effectively ending the stand-off. "Well, yeah, but only because you both know what you're doing. The two of you, you're good out there. Alex, I mean..." he fumbled with a way to describe my awesomeness, and I smiled knowingly. It happened all the time. "But as good as you both are you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting used to people, and I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I."

Daryl resumed his inspection of the bike, tabling the "my wife" discussion for later. Smart man.

"But..."

I shook my head, "There's always a but."

"The main reason why I want you two to help me recruit is because you know the difference between a good person and a bad person." He looked at me. "You have some kind of..."

"Lie detector," Daryl finished, body hidden under a tarp as he inspected the bike with a fine-toothed comb. Maybe he'd like a minute alone with her.

"Thank you, lie detector. I think we'd make a good team."

Daryl stood up, eyes sliding to me. I rolled the idea around in my head, and found no fault in his logic. I'd seen the job opportunities in this place and nothing held any appeal. If I worked at the armory I'd end up strangling Goggles, and while Jessie seemed nice working at the pantry left something to be desired. Besides, what if all her squishy niceness rubbed off on me? This option not only gave us some credibility in the community, but allowed us outside the walls. Plus, there was absolutely no chance of any kind of niceness rubbing off on me. There were worse deals.

I nodded at him and he refocused on Aaron. "We got nothin' else to do."

Aaron opened his mouth, trying to translate if that was redneck for "sure, we'd love to" or "hell-fucking-no".

"We're in," I supplied and he exhaled, relieved. "I still get to be the one who knocks people on their ass, right?"

Aaron laughed, "I'm not sure we could stop you."

Damn straight.

"Thanks man," Daryl said, genuinely grateful for the offer. It was the lifeline we needed to survive this place. "I'll get ya some rabbits."

"Great."

"Be happy it isn't possums." I shuttered in revulsion, following Daryl out of the garage.

"Possums?"

Oh Aaron, we were gonna to have so much fun together.

* * *

 **What do you guys think about Alex's job? It was really the only thing that made sense for her given she'd done it before at the prison and you know...cause she's Alex. LOL. Recruiting is going to open up some doors for this trio. I hope you're excited to see what kind of trouble they get into.**

 **I'd love to hear from you!**


	54. Make the World Disappear

**Make the World Disappear**

Daryl was quiet on the walk back to the house. Not unusual for him, but this was a different kind of quiet. It wasn't silence for silence's sake. There was something on his mind, and based on the worry rolling off of him it had nothing to do with our newfound jobs.

Knowing Daryl he was probably ecstatic about that development, or as "ecstatic" as Daryl ever got about anything. Recruiting suited him. It would give him the lifeline he needed to give this place a chance. Having a way to spend time outside the walls, in the woods, where he felt most comfortable was something he needed if we were ever going to call this community home.

Since I knew he wasn't worried about your jobs I turned my attention to other possible culprits. Maybe it was fear this place wouldn't work no matter what we did? Maybe it was fear Carol had been discovered during her robbery? Maybe he was trying to wrap his head around the physics of Eugene's mullet? The point was I didn't know, and that bothered me, a lot.

He stayed mute when we entered the house, nodding at Sasha and Ariel who were positioned at the windows on watch. He didn't stop to chat with Rick who was trying and failing to soothe a pissed off Nugget. He didn't try to pull Carol to the side so he could see how her mission to shoplift our weapons turned out. His BFF hardly had time to consider the odd dismissal, offering tips to Rick that only seemed to enrage the tiny human.

I was officially worried when Carl asked where we'd been and his only response was to pat the young man's shoulder dismissively. Rick's son raised an eyebrow, looking to me for an explanation, and I shuddered. Apparently the cop face was genetic.

I was downright freaked out when he barely smiled at Nugget who reached out her chubby arms, begging for the redneck to save her from purred peas. My husband kept his head down, making a beeline for the basement before anyone could stop him. When the door shut everyone turned their attention to me.

"Everything alright?" Rick questioned.

"Yeah." I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice, but failed miserably. If I couldn't reassure them I could most definitely change the subject. "We finally got our jobs."

"Oh?" Carol inquired.

"Recruiting." Rick and Carol exchanged what could only be categorized as a "look". Sasha and Ariel didn't even try to reign in their amusement, laughing. Since when were those two tight? "What?"

I'd recruited at the prison so it wasn't like this was a big leap. I was self-aware enough to admit I sucked at it, but that was neither here nor there. I officially had a job, just like everyone else.

"Nothing, it's just…sometimes your people skills are…"

"Are what?" I prodded Rick, cocking a hand on my hip.

"Shitty," Ariel finished.

"My people skills are not shitty." They were eccentric.

"Gorillas, Goggles, the 2nd amendment, and that's just the last two days. Shall I go on?" Ariel continued.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he let loose a full-bellied laugh. Ignoring him I looked around the room for some kind of support. Certainly someone didn't find my people skills shitty. Right?

Rick busied himself doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing in order to avoid my glare. Sasha pursed her lips, not even attempting to soften the blow. I didn't put much stock in her assessment. Her anger management left something to be desired. Carl opened his mouth and my eyes lit up, _finally_ , I knew he'd come through for me, but nothing happened. He just stuttered incomprehensibly for a few seconds then gave up, mouthing a silent "sorry". Not even Carol, the porn addicted pyromaniac, sided with me. She simply continued to silently drink her tea in her ugly Christmas sweater. My last hope was Nugget, but the tiny girl was too busy fighting the long arm of the law. She stuck her chubby fingers in the jar of peas while her father was distracted, scooping out the vile green mush and hurling it at his face. It might not be the support I was looking for, but it resulted in Rick covered in peas. I'd count that as a win.

With a dejected sigh I threw my hands in the air. "Fine, my people skills are a little lacking." I ignored Ariel's correction of _"shitty"_ in the background, making a case for my newfound profession, "I'm the muscle of the operation. Daryl and Aaron will handle the actual recruiting part."

"I don't know, the promise of gorillas fuckin' could have them comin' outta the woodwork."

I flipped Ariel off, undeterred by the ribbing. "And if that doesn't work we can always entice them with pubs."

His smile fell instantly, and he coughed to cover his discomfort. He swayed back-and-forth like he was riding shotgun on a yacht, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Are you drunk?"

He shrugged, "They had beer."

I looked to the others for confirmation and they nodded. "Huh, maybe this place isn't so bad after all."

"You're basing that opinion on them having beer?" Sasha asked skeptically.

"Not just beer. They have wine too." She didn't look convinced. If anyone needed to get trashed and make some bad decisions it was her. Ever since the loss of her boyfriend and brother she'd been somewhat…intense. Intense meaning she was floating through life in a haze of anger and bullets. "Either of us have watch tonight?"

We may have agreed to give Alexandria a try, but we weren't willing to lower our defenses just yet. We didn't trust these people, and from what I'd seen on my sweep of the place it was far from secure despite their guarantees to the contrary. Everyone had been assigned a room of their own in one of the two houses we occupied, but there was still a guard rotation at night. It would stay that way until Rick talked some sense into Deanna regarding security measures, and we were sure no one was going to try and kill us in our sleep. Honestly, I didn't know if I would ever stop sleeping with a knife tucked under my pillow and a gun resting on the nightstand. Old habits died hard.

"Nah, take the night off. We got it covered."

Rick didn't need to tell me twice. I smiled, heading to the basement before he changed his mind. The tension in my shoulders continued to mount as I descended the stairs causing a wicked headache to build behind my eyes. I wasn't necessarily nervous to talk to Daryl. It was more like I was nervous to find out what had him on edge. There was something eating away at him, and I knew my husband. He wouldn't voluntarily talk about it. He would bottle it up, and let it fester until it exploded. God help us all if that happened. Dodging arrows wasn't for the faint of heart.

At the bottom of the stairs I smiled when I heard the familiar, if not annoying, sound of Merle's snores. It was so loud I swear the walls rattled with each exhale, but I'd long since grown accustomed to the rhythmic wheezing.

I opened the door to our room, biting my lip when I found Daryl perched on the edge of the bed messing with his crossbow. He offered me a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes, and I swallowed hard.

My instinct was to dive in headfirst, call out his unusual behavior, and stare at him until he offered a suitable explanation, but that wasn't how Daryl operated. He would just stare silently back until thus pissing me off. Subsequently I would say something sarcastic, and he would counter with something equally sarcastic drawing us even further off topic. Inevitably we'd end up face-to-face screaming even though neither of us could remember the reason our argument started in the first place. I decided to try a different approach hoping for a different result. That my friends, was growth.

"Why is it the people who snore the loudest are always the first ones to fall asleep?" I asked casually, making my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

He snorted, "Assholes always been like that."

I loaded my toothbrush with minty toothpaste, marveling again at the luxuries Alexandria provided. I scrubbed my teeth clean, eyeing my husband in the mirror the whole time. His attention was back on his beloved weapon as he cleaned and inspected it, over-and-over. He was stalling, that much was obvious. What wasn't so obvious was why.

I leaned forward, spitting into the sink and swishing a handful of water in my mouth. I patted my mouth dry with a hand towel, _a freakin' hand towel_. I took my time arranging the the small, plush cloth on the hook beside the sink. I didn't think I'd ever owned a hand towel. Why use a towel when your shirt was right there? It was so domestic, so…adult. It was a perfect representation of this place and its residents, unbelievable and completely useless.

"You know, I love him like a brother, but when he snores like an asthmatic banshee I have the uncontrollable desire to smother him with a pillow."

Daryl laughed, really laughed, and my heart soared. He looked 10 years younger, so carefree and beautiful it was breathtaking. It was rare he let his guard down. So rare I'd almost forgotten what it looked like. This place could be good for him, for all of us, if we could make it work. If we could find a way to adjust to this new normal.

I placed my toothbrush next to Daryl's, leaning against the door frame and folding my arms over my chest. He was still messing with his crossbow though what he was doing I had no idea. The thing was clean enough to eat off of, but still he tied and re-tied the string before checking the cables, and adjusting the cams. If I didn't say something, do something, he was likely to spend the entire night fiddling with the weapon yet accomplishing nothing of note.

"Daryl," I started and he froze, peeking up at me from behind a curtain of long hair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

He went back to pretending to clean his crossbow and I sighed. I bit my lip, eyeing him. Playing a hunch I slowly walked to the bed. Just as I expected, the closer I got the more tense he became. When I climbed onto the mattress, tucking my long legs under me he sucked in a harsh breath, leaning away.

"Please talk to me."

He shot to his feet, and I swallowed the words I knew would only set him off. Instead watched and waited. The two of us weren't so different. I knew knew without a doubt how he was going to handle whatever was troubling him, avoidance. It was easier to pretend things didn't exist than to face them head on.

He paced in front of the bed, biting his thumbnail, sneaking glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I had the strangest thought, and I didn't know what to do with it. I was fairly certain his unease had something to do with me. The thought settled in my gut like a lead brick.

"Gonna go take watch."

I didn't respond at first, too stunned at my revelation. He looked at me for a beat, opening his mouth to say something, but the words never came. He snapped his mouth closed, walking to the door with what could only be described as angry steps. The door squeaked when he opened it and it snapped me out of my stupor.

"We don't have watch tonight."

He hesitated, breathing heavy, back still turned to me. My eyes fell to the plush comforter covering the bed. It was too white, too elegant, too…fluffy. It pissed me off. Things like this shouldn't exist in the world today. The white monstrosity was mocking me, just like the stupid hand towel.

"Is it our new jobs?"

The door clicked shut and he sighed. "No."

I took a measured breath. "Is it this place?"

I wouldn't blame him if it was. These people gave the creeps at least a couple of times a day.

"No."

He set his crossbow against the wall, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on a chair. I bit my lip, telling myself to stay cool. I wished he would just tell me what was wrong rather than having me play 20 questions, but that wasn't Daryl. There was a very good possibility he didn't even know what was bothering him, and if he did, he might not understand it. Lord knows I didn't.

"Is it the comforter?" His face scrunched up in confusion, eyes flicking down to the bedding. "It reminds me of marshmallow fluff."

His eyebrows furrowed, and he ran a hand along his jaw, scratching the stubble. He was giving my question a lot of thought, and while I appreciated the effort we weren't supposed to be talking about marshmallow fluff. Problem was I wasn't sure what the hell we were supposed to be talking about?

"Ya don't like marshmallow fluff?" He sat down on the bed, rubbing his hand over the comforter and nodding in appreciation. "Seems pretty nice to me."

"Marshmallow fluff isn't _real_ _marshmallow_. I don't like things that pretend to be something they're not." He frowned, clearly not following. "Like engineered hardwood, it's not _real_ _hardwood_ , but it pretends to be real hardwood. Just be what you are."

"Which is?"

"Fake hardwood," I huffed, punching the comforter and watching it inflate automatically, "Marshmallow fluff is an imposter, a fraud, just like fake hardwood."

My rant held him speechless for a full 10 seconds. "I ain't got no idea what we're talkin' 'bout."

Me either.

The train had veered pretty far off the tracks. Clearly I sucked at anything other than being direct. Daryl leaned against the headboard, feigning indifference when in reality his body was pulled tight. I drummed my fingers against my leg, eying him, and deciding to play a hunch. He might not know what was wrong, but I had a pretty good idea.

I pushed onto my hands and knees, crawling towards him. His reaction was immediate. He slammed his back against the oak headboard, the massive wood furniture hitting the wall with a _bang_. I sat down, trying to keep myself from lashing out. I wasn't going to lie, that hurt.

"Well, I think we can narrow down the list of suspects," I said, anger leaking into my voice despite my efforts to contain it.

"It ain't what ya think."

I scoffed, "Oh really? So I'm imaging the fact that my husband doesn't want me to be near him?"

"It ain't like that."

"You said that already."

My hands started shaking then they started sweating. My brain was going 100-mph, insane thoughts and hurtful conclusions pinging around so fast I couldn't process them. There was one thought that I heard above all others.

Run.

That was what I did when things got tough. When things spiraled out of control I ran. I'd learned the skill out of pure survival as a child, and honed the instinct as an adult in my former profession. My husband being afraid to be near me was about as tough as it got.

I needed to get out of here. Not just this room or this house, but _this place_. It felt like I was suffocating. It was getting harder to breathe, the walls closing in on me. I knew what was happening, but it'd been half a year since I felt like this. I was out of practice, my fear overriding common sense, and my ability to cope. My mouth was dry causing my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I felt a cold sweat roll down my back as my eyes darted around the room, looking for an exit, an escape.

Daryl's didn't need his Vulcan mind meld to know what was happening. He scooted closer, taking my cold, shaking hands in his. My bottom lip quivered when I looked into his blue eyes. I forced myself to stay still, fighting against a lifetime of instincts more ingrained in me than my DNA. I knew this man loved me. I knew it with the same certainty that the sun would rise tomorrow. Our love for each other was a permanent mark. Whatever was happening between us hadn't changed that one simple fact.

"Red, ya gotta calm down." He took my face in his hands. "Breathe baby, just breathe."

I copied his breathing, inhale through my nose, holding it for a second, then releasing it slowly out of my mouth. With each subsequent breath I felt the incredible pressure on my chest ease, the numbness sweeping across my body diminish, and the irrational thoughts fade to background noise.

This wasn't the first time he'd seen me like this. It felt like a lifetime ago we sought refuge from a herd in a closet. Our friendship was still new then, the two of us dancing around each, unsure where our relationship was headed, but he'd helped me through the panic attack. He'd held me, kept me grounded while I fought invisible demons.

"That's it," he cooed, and my hammering heart mercifully slowed down.

A couple more deep breaths and I felt like myself again. A year ago showing such weakness would have been unthinkable, but not now. He'd seen me at my worst. I'd seen him at his. We had no secrets from each other. There was nothing we wouldn't do for each other. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, face thoughtful.

"I love ya," he admitted, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead. "Ain't nobody ever believed in me before. Ya changed that…ya changed everythin'. Ya make me the man I always wanted to be. I'm gonna love ya till my lungs give out Red. Ya need to know that."

"Daryl, I…"

"Shhh." I glared at him and he smirked, pulling me into his lap as settled against the headboard. "Lemme get this out."

I could feel the steady beat of his heart under my palm. He absently stroked my hair with one hand while the other rested on my hip.

"OK."

"Ya were right b'fore 'bout me not wanting to be near ya." My body stiffened and he quickly added, "But it ain't for the reasons ya think."

"Then why?" He hesitated and I went for the kills shot. "Anything, but silence."

The gentle reminder was all it took to push him over the edge. It was our vow to each other, and he would always honor it.

"Every time I look at ya I want ya. I wanna hold ya. I wanna kiss ya. I wanna make love to ya."

Sign. Me. Up.

"I ain't never wanted someone the way I want ya."

"I feel the same."

"I know." I rolled my eyes at the smugness in his voice even though he couldn't see it, and he chuckled because of course he knew. "We were careful b'fore, real careful, but it didn't matter none."

There it was. In the back of my mind I knew this was the issue, but just like him I wanted to avoid facing it.

"I don't trust myself to be 'round ya and not…want ya."

Alexandria was the safest place we'd been since the world went to shit, but that safety was no guarantee. Just like the prison it could be gone in the blink of an eye. A pregnant woman, or a baby, on the road was difficult at best and a death sentence at worse.

I tipped my head back so I could see his face, "You can't worry about everything that _could_ go wrong. There's no way to control every outcome. All we can do is live. We'll face whatever comes, together."

He starred at me, lips trembling slightly. I searched his face, trying to decipher the multiple emotions. His Adam's apple bobbed up-and-down as he pressed his lips together, hands cradling my face. I couldn't remember a time he'd been this vulnerable.

"I'm afraid."

The magnitude of his statement wasn't lost on me. What it cost him to admit it I'll never know, but the fact he trusted me with it made tears pool in my eyes.

"I'm not. Do you know why?" He shook his head, hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. "Because I have you, and as long as I have you, there's nothing to fear." I brushed the hair out of his eyes with a small smile. "We can still take precautions, but if I get pregnant again then I'm OK with that. I'm OK with what it might mean. I want everything with you Daryl Dixon."

He swallowed hard, leaning down and gently brushing his lips against mine. I hummed in satisfaction, eyes fluttering closed. He kissed me reverently, taking control. I submitted willingly, arms snaking around his neck. When he pulled away his eyes were dark with desire, and my stomach bottomed out.

I straddled him, our bodies touching at every point, a pleasurable warmth spreading through me. His fingers clawed at my hips, and I saw the raw need I felt racing through my veins reflected in his eyes. I took my time unbuttoning his shirt, savoring the way his breathing hitched when my hands touched his bare skin. I slipped the shirt off his shoulders, running my hands across his searing skin. He hissed in pleasure, pulling my own shirt up and over my head in one swift motion. Even in the dim light of the basement I could see his eyes savoring my body, taking in every dip and curve of my flushed skin. I felt it like a touch. It was beautiful torture.

We moved in unison, both seeking something only the other could provide. Our lips connected and I swear the world skidded to a stop. Our tongues twined so slow, so deeply my imagination flared with all the things that needed to happen tonight. Daryl kissed me with such fervor I moaned, and suddenly I was on my back with him above me.

OK, we could do this too.

Clothes had never felt more confining and I struggled to take off his pants while simultaneously removing my own.

"In a hurry Red?"

I sat up, cursing tight pants as I wiggled my way out of the restrictive fabric. The slim fit jeans got caught up on my larger than average feet, and I screamed in frustration. I shook my leg like a lunatic, but still the pants didn't budge. Daryl patiently waited beside me, propped up on one arm, watching my sex meltdown with an amused smile.

"Goddamn motherfucking piece of shit."

I had one leg free, but now the other was stuck and I felt myself tearing up. Was it too much to ask that your pants magically vanish when you wanted to have hot sex with your equally hot husband?

"Want some help?" he offered.

"I swear, if you get these pants off me in the next 30 seconds I'll reconsider my stance on butt stuff." My pants were in the bathroom in less than five. "Holy shit, you really want to do butt stuff, huh?"

"Nah." He licked my neck, nipping his way down my throat, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. "Ain't my thing."

"Really?" He seemed awfully motivated to meet the 30 second time hack.

"Figured if I didn't help you get those jeans off yur Hobbit feet we might never get to the good stuff."

I froze, mouth hanging open. Did he just say I had… _Hobbit feet_?

I felt his body shaking with laughter, and pressed my back into the bed so I could see his face. Yeah, he was laughing at me, or more appropriately he was laughing at my big feet.

"I'll have you know a lot of people wear a size 11." And a half.

He grinned, "Yur right." I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for the punchline. "Most men do wear a size 12."

In the back of my mind I wondered if other people's pillow talk involved Hobbits and shoe sizes?

"Keep it up and it'll be just you and your hand in bed tonight." I was only now realizing he was already sporting a condom and frowned. "How the hell…am I in some kind of time warp? Did I black out? How did you manage to get my pants off _and_ put on a condom all in under 10 seconds?"

"Gotta keep up."

Apparently.

He nibbled on my bottom lip and I tried to hold out – oh who was I kidding – I didn't try at all. I'd find another way to get him back for the Hobbit feet. I pulled him down, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress intoxicating. His ravenous tongue found a particularly sensitive spot on my neck that made me crave his bare skin on mine. He had a way of drawing the desire out of me though I wasn't sure it was intentional on his part. There was simply something about him that worked me into such a frenzied state it was unbearable. My body was a live wire only he could navigate.

"Please don't stop," I begged when his hands slipped my panties off.

"Just getting' started Red."

Holy.

Shit.

How he made such a simple phrase sound so sexy was mystifying. I tilted my hips up to meet his and a growl rumbled in his chest in appreciation. When I ran my hands down his back to his ass, gripping it hard even as I urged him to me he hissed between clenched teeth. He looked down at me with hooded eyes, and I'd never felt more aroused. My body twitched and trembled beneath him as he hovered just out of reach.

"Don't wait," I pleaded in a desperate voice, "I need you inside me _now_."

"Christ, ya got no idea what that does to me."

Oh, I was pretty sure I could guess.

I was unable to control my craving for him. My body bucked under his when his hands trailed up my thighs, urging my legs further apart. I gasped when he settled between them, my stomach tightening. Words spilled from my lips, begging him to take me, that I was his, and even more I couldn't remember. I felt his body shaking with anticipation as he tried to hold himself in check. Daryl savored a slow seduction, but it'd been far too long since we'd been with each other to take our time.

In one swift thrust he was inside me and I gasped, but had no time to catch my breath as he pounded his hips against mine. He held himself up on his forearms so he could look down the length of my body, and I lifted my hips to meet his. He rocked faster and faster, and my breathing picked up, a tingling sensation building inside me.

"Damn Red."

The headboard slammed against the wall repeatedly, and I knew we were sharing this house, but I didn't give one, single, solitary fuck.

"Harder," I begged.

He said something I couldn't make out in my sex haze, obliging even as his hands pushed one leg back. I grabbed the sheet with one hand and his hip with the other, withering beneath him, literally aching. He leaned down, sucking on my nipples and I arched my back, a string on indecipherable nonsense slipping from my lips. His tongue traced languid circles around my body, and I couldn't decide what body part was more skilled, his tongue, his hands, or his baloney pony. Man, what a dilemma.

"Open yur eyes," he commanded and I complied immediately. "I want ya lookin' at me when ya come."

If I had the dexterity to salute I would have. This was one order I had no problem obeying. See, I could be docile and accommodating…when I was naked.

He read my body like a book, analyzing my face, my moans, my breathing, and responding to what I needed before I _knew_ what I needed. It was like he was created to be the ultimate lover, able to destroy me with every thrust, every touch, every kiss. He was made to push my buttons, and holy shit on a shingle, he wasn't just pushing them. He was slamming them, hard.

The intensity in his eyes as he watched me nearing my climax was unreal. I wanted to look away, close my eyes, suddenly shy for reasons I couldn't even explain, but he held me transfixed. He was the hunter, and tonight, I was the prey. He changed tempo, burying himself deep inside me to the point my toes curled.

"D-Daryl," I moaned, unashamed at the wanton tone of my voice. He quickened his pace and my body tensed. "Oh god."

"Fuck ya feel so good." He continued to pound into me and my legs shook. "Are ya gonna come for me?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what ya want."

"You, I want you, always you."

He leaned down, the stubble of his beard rubbing against my face, using one hand to push my leg higher still. "Tell me what ya need."

I was no Ukrainian gymnast, but if he promised not to stop I'd tie my legs behind my head like a pretzel. I hooked my other leg around his hip, pulling him closer and he cursed, eyes slamming shut momentarily.

"Deeper," I begged, twisting my body until I found just the right angle. "Yes! Right there!"

He drove into me with such force I saw bright lights behind my closed eyes. I'd never felt anything more intense in my entire life, and I'd once been electrocuted so I would know. I heard someone screaming and belated realized it was me, but mortification tomorrow at breakfast was a small price to pay for a Daryl induced orgasm. When I came it was like being hit with a seismic shock that made my knees weaken and breath seize in my lungs.

"Oh shit," he growled.

Daryl's entire body stiffened and quaked as he found his own release. His rhythm slowed, his body still shaking from the aftershocks of pleasure. I let loose a salacious, satisfied moan, and smiled. I held him, stroking his hair as he tried to control his breathing. He looked down at me, shaking his head before delivering a soul-searing kiss.

He pulled back, collapsing next to me, but not before gathering me in his arms and pulling the stupid comforter over us. I enjoyed the moment with him. The two of us lying there sweaty and sated. I loved the feel of his heart pounding in his chest, knowing I was the one to cause such a state. I savored how his exotic scent drifted over me, like he was claiming me all over again.

"We're gonna make it," he whispered, curling his fingers around mine. "I ain't scared no more."

"No?"

"Nah." He hugged me, pressing a kiss to our joined hands. "Mabe…if I love ya enough…the rest of the world will disappear."

* * *

 **This chapter is shameless Alex and Daryl fluff (sorry not sorry). I felt like our fav couple needed time to reconnect, especially after the events at the hospital. I hope you enjoyed it cause things are going to start moving like a car chase in a Fast and Furious movie.**

 **Are you excited about what's ahead? The Wolves are on the horizon...duh, duh, duh!**


	55. Wolves Not Far

**Wolves Not Far**

"Coffee?"

I nodded yes to Carol's question, keeping my eyes firmly locked on the bowl of oatmeal in front of me, listening to the sound of spoons scrapping against the delicate china as we ate. I envied my husband right now. He'd risen before the sun, kissing me briefly, and mumbling something about checking out his bike at Aaron's. My only response was incoherent grunting, and a weak thumbs up before I rolled over, promptly going back to sleep. In hindsight that was poor planning on my part.

"I'll talk to Deanna's husband; see if he has any drywall he can spare to patch up your wall."

Rick's statement made my face burn with embarrassment. Ariel, Merle and Glenn cackling like school girls at the table certainly didn't help. In retaliation I kicked my brother-in-law in the shin, but that only made him laugh harder. I closed my eyes, trying to spontaneously disappear.

"Thanks," I muttered, hunching over my bowl, hoping something, _anything_ , would happen to take the spotlight off last night's extracurricular activities.

"What happened to your wall?" Carl asked innocently. This time even Carol and Deadpool couldn't contain their amusement.

"Yur Aunt got a little carried away movin' furniture last night," Merle laughed.

Carl nodded, completely oblivious to the double entendre. "Is that why she was yelling at Daryl?"

I moved my bowl aside, letting my head thump against the table, wishing for a quick death. This was karma, and it was pronounced, _"haha, fuck you"_. Maybe if I held my breath I'd just keel over and die.

"Well, uh, yeah, he was...helping her," Rick added, coughing uncomfortably.

"He helped her alright." Ariel's comment sent everyone into varying degrees of laughter, someone even spit out their oatmeal. Assholes, all of them. "Fact he helped her so good they neighbors got a play-by-play."

I stood up so abruptly the chair slid across the polished hardwood floor, colliding with the wall. Every set of eyes in the house locked on me, and I did my best to stand tall despite wanting to crawl in a hole. There was nothing wrong with a healthy sex life. I refused to apologize for getting...carried away last night.

"The walls in this house are really thin." Trying to defend myself accomplished nothing, but sending Deadpool into a fit of laughter that made her double over. "You'd think a house this nice would have better insulation."

"This house could be a veritable bomb shelter, and it wouldn't have made any difference."

I narrowed my eyes at Carol who simply raised her eyebrows while sipping her coffee in another ridiculously hideous sweater. I was caught in a no-win situation so with limited options I chose the most mature one. I flipped them off and stalked out the front door, slamming it closed so hard the glass inserts rattled. I stood on the porch, chest heaving. I could still hear their laughter through the door.

"Morning Alex."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I fired back at Noah who frowned, looking to Beth for help.

"Uh, it means...good morning?"

I looked between the pair, but saw nothing to suggest they got an unsolicited ticket to last night's show. What I did notice was how close they were standing, and how Noah's hand was possessively wrapped around Beth's waist. The moment he realized what I was looking at he pulled his arm back, pretending to scratch his neck while taking a measured step away from the youngest Greene daughter.

When did this happen?

I knew they were dancing around each other, but a arm around thew waist with a thumb caressing bare skin was not dancing. It made sense from a practical standpoint. There weren't many people their age running around Alexandria, and the two of them had survived a harrowing ordeal at the hospital. I supposed it was only a matter of time before they "made it official". I liked Noah, and I knew Hershel would have liked him too.

"What are you two doing today?" I asked, walking down the porch steps.

"Deanna wants to talk to all the supply runners this afternoon," Noah answered.

"Lieutenant Douchebag going?"

"Aiden and Nicholas will both be there." I bit my lip while Beth took a step closer, eyes worried.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't trust them," I admitted, looking Noah in the eyes. "You going out today?"

"No, Eugene has an idea to fix the power grid, but needs micro-somethings." He shrugged and I copied the action. With Billy Ray Cyrus there was no telling. "Deanna wants to hear his plan, and go from there."

I sighed, "You're not going right?"

Beth shook her head. "I'm assigned to the school."

Thank god. I didn't doubt her abilities, but I didn't want her out with Aiden. That guy was a ticking time bomb set to go off any moment.

"Listen to me Noah, when you're out there, keep your distance from them. They don't know what they're doing, and it could end up getting you killed." He listened intently. "Remember, keep your head on a swivel, and always go for head shots. Don't engage directly if you don't have to. If things go south you get our people and get out."

He nodded, "I will."

Beth looked nervous so I offered her a small smile. "I'll see you guys tonight."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Recruiting."

On my way to Aaron and Eric's I stopped by the armory. When Goggles saw me coming her bottom lip trembled, and she hightailed it into the back to retrieve my rifle and PPQ. She reappeared a few minutes later, handing me the weapons with shaking hands. I felt my shoulders relax when I put the PPQ into my holster, and felt my anxiety diminish when I slipped the rifle strap over my head.

I'd abstained from taking any of the weapons Carol pilfered for two reasons. One was obvious, Daryl. The moment he saw the bag full of gun Carol went through all the trouble to steal I knew he wasn't going to take one. He'd given Rick and Carol his word he would try to make Alexandria work, and what's more, Aaron trusted him. He wasn't going to betray that trust, not for a handgun.

The two of us had remained a united front on the issue despite the displeasure from Rick and Carol. In my estimation they were worrying too much. My second reason for not taking a weapon was I didn't need a stolen weapon to be dangerous. I _was_ a weapon.

I tried not to feel self-conscious walking down the street, but I got more than a few worried glances and apprehensive finger points. I practically ran the last few feet, ducking inside the garage to avoid the stares of the old couple sitting on the porch across the street from Aaron's. In my haste I bumped into a table knocking a variety of bike parts and tools to the ground. I turned slowly, standing to my full height, and trying to pretend like I wasn't hiding in a corner because of a noisy grandma and grandpa.

Aaron, Eric and Daryl were standing a few feet away watching me with surprised looks on their faces. Well, Aaron and Eric looked surprised. Daryl was sporting a barely there smirk that spoke volumes. It was clear we'd been married long enough this kind of stuff was normal.

"Mornin' Red." I pulled on the bottom of my leather jacket, smoothing down my hair as I attempted to gather myself, but it was clear that shipped had sailed sometime last night during my very vocal rendition of the Hallelujah chorus. "How was breakfast?"

My face turned stony, the murderous glare sending Eric and Aaron scurrying away from the redneck. In my rush to avoid the gawking community members I'd forgotten my husband fed me to the wolves. I walked to him slowly, taking a deep breath as I looked him over from head to toe. Eric sucked in a gasp, grabbing Aaron's hand and pulling him further away.

"Tell me, _dear_ , did you happen to notice a sizeable hole in our wall this morning?"

Daryl's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Ya know, now that ya mention it, I do 'member seein' somethin' like that."

I bet he did. The hole was the size of Carl. This was why we couldn't have nice things.

I invaded his personal space, his Adam's apple bobbing up-and-down at my proximity. I wasn't playing fair, but neither was he when he left me to deal with last night's animal sex fallout, alone. I rose up on the tips of my toes, leaning close to his ear, making sure to brush my boobs against his chest just to be a bitch. I smiled when his body went tightened up.

"You know, I've given people a high-five, in the face, with a chair, for far less," I purred, rubbing his arm gently with my fingertips.

My tone said, _"Hey sexy, wanna bump uglies?"  
_

My words said, _"You're a fucking dead man"_.

"You ever leave me to deal with the constructional repercussions of our sexual escapades again, and you'll be performing solo in the bedroom rodeo for the foreseeable future."

"Don't threaten me with a good time Red," he smiled, not the least bit perturbed by my threat.

It didn't escape my attention he was using my own words against me. Marriage was 99% putting up with the other persons shit, and 1% dancing in the sheets.

"Uh, everything alright?" Aaron inquired, clearly worried.

I stepped back, turning to face the couple, smiling so big my face hurt. "Oh yeah, everything's peachy."

Eric's gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. "My god."

I frowned, looking to Daryl who rolled his eyes, crossing his massive arms over his equally massive chest with a chastising look.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just...I mean...it's kind of..."

"Murder face." Daryl interrupted Aaron incoherent ramblings, and I groaned, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.

"I'm smiling. How is smiling a murder face?"

"Told ya, that shit just makes it worse."

"It doesn't help that your dressed like a cross between Alice from Resident Evil and Selene from Underworld," Eric added unhelpfully.

I glanced down at my clothes. I was wearing a black leather jacket and my normal skinny jeans with black, mid-calf combat boots. Sure I'd taken the time to smooth all the bumps out of my hair, slicking it back into a tight bun, but that didn't make me Sarah Connor.

"These are my regular clothes and this is my regular face." I looked to Daryl for support, but he merely shrugged. "Are we ready to go?"

The faster we got outside the fence the faster I could put this morning behind me, hopefully.

"Bikes good to go."

I didn't miss the gleam in Daryl's eyes as he looked at the machine. He missed Merle's bike, a whole lot judging by the look on his face. I was almost jealous.

"I thought we'd hit a town about half an hour away. I've never been able to get close because of walkers, but maybe they've moved on."

"How bad are the herds around here?" I questioned, stepping back so Daryl could get to second base with his new toy.

Aaron shrugged, looking to Eric who nodded. "Not bad for such a densely populated area."

I frowned, that made no sense. The population in Virginia prior to the breakout had to be upwards of 9 million with Maryland and D.C. easily adding another 7 million, but somehow there were _no herds_ roaming the area. The population in Georgia was probably 10 million, and we'd fought our way through herds for a year straight.

"Something wrong?"

Eric sounded worried so I plastered a semi-believable smile on my face, and assured him it was nothing, nothing except a herd of catastrophic size lurking in parts unknown.

Daryl wheeled the bike out of the garage while Aaron collected his belongings, and put them in a beat up old sedan. I fiddled with my weapons waiting for Eric and Aaron to finish their goodbye, trying to give them privacy even though we were standing five feet away.

"What?"

I huffed, meeting Daryl's penetrating gaze. "This is one of the most densely populated areas in the country, but miraculously they're no herds. That doesn't make sense."

He bit his thumb while he thought it over. "Maybe they just got lucky." I crossed my arms over my chest, raising my eyebrows. In my experience there was no such thing as luck unless it was bad. "Yeah, a'right, it don't track, but ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it."

Aaron and Eric were finally done swapping spit so I threw a leg over the motorcycle, sliding forward and wrapping my arms around Daryl's waist. He rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand, glancing at me over his shoulder.

"Still mad?"

"A little."

"I'll make it up to ya."

I put my chin on his shoulder. "Unless it involves an orgasm I'm not interested."

"That can be arranged Mrs. Dixon," he replied without missing a beat.

"OK, who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"

It wasn't that long ago his ears got red when I _said_ the word sex, and now here he was, promising a Meg Ryan without skipping a beat. Clearly I was rubbing off on him. I never thought I'd be the perfect wife, but here I was, killin' it.

Instead of answering he squeezed my hand, kick starting the bike that roared to life. In seconds we were pushing outside the gates, and as crazy as it sounded I felt better the moment Alexandria faded from view. Maybe it was being surrounded by strangers. Maybe it was the false sense of security. Maybe it was none of that. Truth was I'd always been more comfortable with chaos. The further we got from the steel walls and pristine houses the more my nerves settled.

We took a back-road running parallel to highway 1 to a twon called Del Ray. I caught intermittent glimpses of the Potomac on our right as the crisp, cool, fall air whirled around us. It wouldn't be long until fall was officially behind us, and we were forced to endure our first Northern winter. Personally, I was dreading it.

Daryl pulled into the woods about five miles from the outskirts of the town, Aaron following in the car. We hid our vehicles before continuing on foot, Daryl in the led with Aaron sandwiched between us. Daryl halted the procession in a park where the faint outlines of buildings were visible. He squatted down and waiting while I moved forward, unslinging my rifle and peering through the scope.

"What's it look like Red?"

"I can't see shit," I admitted, scanning left and right, looking for a better vantage point. There was a multi-story YMCA directly ahead which would do nicely. I slipped my pack off, pulling out the throat microphone system I stole from Terminus, handing one set to Daryl. "Stay here and wait for my go."

"Where are you going?" Aaron asked, eyes wide.

I grinned at him and Daryl sighed, rubbing a hand over his face roughly. "The roof," he answered though he wasn't thrilled with the development.

"The roof?" Clearly the answer did not compute with our windbreaker wearing companion. "You're going to climb on a roof?"

I nodded, adjusting the throat mic and pressing the button clipped to my jacket. "Red to Legolas, radio check, over."

Daryl gave me a thumbs up, pushing my pack into Aaron's hands. I stood, moving forward, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I looked at Aaron, eyebrows raised in question, and he swallowed hard.

"It's just...that's pretty high. Are you sure you can climb it?"

I laughed, hooking a thumb in his direction while smiling at my husband. "This guy's hilarious."

"I was serious actually," he muttered.

"Be careful," Daryl added, ignoring Aaron, the tension in his shoulders a testament to his worry. "And be quick."

"This shits going down faster than a brawl in a closet." Daryl sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Wait, I meant a gun fight in a cubicle."

"Not even close." I threw my hands in the air, waiting expectantly. "Knife fight in a phone booth."

My shoulders slumped in defeat. "Crap."

"Statistically speakin' ya should've gotten one right by now, even by accident," he drawled, amusement making his blue eyes sparkle.

"Law of averages?"

"Damn straight."

"I feel like you two are speaking another language," Aaron admitted.

"We are. It's called redneck."

I threw Daryl a wink which made him roll his eyes, and I jogged off. At the edge of the park I stopped, scanning up-and-down the street. There were a few walkers here and there, but nothing close to a herd. I waited until their backs were turned before I sprinted across the street to the backside of the YMCA. I reached up, pulling on the rusted fire escape ladder, wincing when the metal squeaked and groaned. So much for stealth.

Once the ladder hit the ground I hauled ass, pulling the ladder when I got to the first catwalk just in case walkers spontaneously learned to climb. The noise had already drawn a handful that were now milling below me, arms extended, nails clawing at the building in a fruitless effort to reach me.

"Ain't getting' down thata way." I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see it. "Gotta plan?"

Of course I had a plan. I _always_ had a plan.

"Hopscotch."

"Didn't go so good last time."

I heard the agitation in his tone which was understandable. Last time we played hopscotch I almost went splat.

"Keep your fingers crossed there aren't any walkers up here." Or helicopters for that matter.

I climbed two additional ladders until eventually I was on the roof that was thankfully free of walkers. I set up on the northeast corner of the roof, using the scope on my rifle to inspect the town. There were walkers scattered about, but nothing the three of us couldn't handle. Most of the stores looked relatively untouched, a fact I attributed to the walkers that had kept Aaron and Eric from thoroughly exploring until today. Wherever the herd went it was long gone from Del Ray.

"Looks pretty good," I said into the mic, adjusting the settings on my scope. "There's a Salvation Army a few blocks to the north that looks promising. You guys should track one blocks north then take a left by the CVS. I'll cover you from here and meet you on the street."

"Copy that."

Daryl and Aaron cautiously made their way to the rendezvous point while I covered them from the roof. When they were safely waiting in the parking lot of a CVS I jumped to an adjacent roof, using the protruding bricks and old-fashioned awning to parkour my way down to solid ground. I quickly crossed the street, meeting up with the guys who were discussing the pros and cons of raiding the store. I peeked inside and frowned, the place looked untouched.

"Whatcha think Red?"

"I don't see any walkers," Aaron said.

I squinted against the glare, seeing the same thing Aaron did, nothing, and that was the problem. Medicine was right up there with food and weapons in terms of value. Yet here was a drug store in the middle of a populated town looking the same as it had before the dead rose.

"Something doesn't feel right," I whispered, and Daryl shifted closer. "Look, do you see that?"

Both men leaned closer to the window, trying to see what I was pointing at. I could tell neither was following. They couldn't see it, but maybe they could hear it.

"Listen."

I held my breath, closing my eyes. The sound was faint at best, but I heard it even through panes of glass, clawing, like nails down a chalkboard.

"What is that?" Aaron pondered.

"I think its walkers." Aaron's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and I nodded in agreement. "Look at the doors in the back, see how they're moving?" Both men shook their heads so I continued. "Now follow the trim on the side of the door down to the ground. See the sunlight glimmering off the right corner?" Another round of head shakes. "Look at the rest of the doors. What do you see?"

"Same thing," Daryl confirmed, face serious.

"But...what does that mean? What is it?"

Daryl bit his thumbnail while I answered. "I think they're trip wires."

"Trip wires? Trip wires for what?"

"If I was a betting woman I'd say they open the doors. It looks like the systems rigged so that if one door opens, they all open."

"And the place floods with walkers," Daryl added, eyes scanning our surroundings.

"Why would anyone do that?"

"It's a trap of some kind. Why someone would go through all the trouble of playing reindeer games I don't know."

Whatever their reason I could promise you it wasn't good.

"Close quarters with an unknown number of walkers." I shook my head, weighing the pros and cons. "How's your supply?"

"We ain't riskin' it," Daryl said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "Let's check out the Salvation Army, and get the hell outta here."

The Salvation Army was roughly three blocks away, but given it was in the heart of the community there was a better than average chance it had some loot. Clothing was a precious resource, especially this far north where winter would be unforgivingly cold. Alexandria may be relatively stocked in the food and medicine departments, but clothing was a different story. We may be on a recruiting mission, but so far we hadn't run across anyone to recruit. It would be a wasted opportunity to not take a pass at a town that was relatively untouched.

The town looked like it was ripped from the pages of an 18-century novel with old brick buildings and specialty shops lining the streets. It wasn't hard to imagine the affluent area in its prime, but like everything else in the world the outbreak had not been kind. Wind blowing trash across the deserted streets created an eerie feel that wasn't at all helped by the dead bodies rotting inside cars. Rubble from buildings blocked parts of the street. The pile up of cars made traveling by vehicle hardly worth the effort.

There were a handful of walkers in the streets we easily dispatched. All things considered it was fairly boring. A half block away from the Salvation Army I stopped, looking through my scope. There was something written on the side of the building in big, black letters.

 **WOVLES NOT FAR**

That wasn't ominous or anything.

"What is it?"

I looked to Aaron, "Does the saying wolves not far mean anything to you?"

He frowned, "No. Should it?"

I pursed my lips, glancing at Daryl who was already looking for danger. Apparently this town wasn't as deserted as it appeared. I wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, or in this case by its graffiti, but any group that choose the name wolves didn't scream friendship material.

"Let's swing around to the back. We're too exposed here," I suggested.

The back parking lot was empty, and we made our way to the door, pounding on the glass a few times. When a handful of walkers shuffled forward, pawing at the door I watched our backs while Daryl walked a nervous Aaron through safely clearing a building. I gave him a small smile when they were done, the poor guy leaning against the building to catch his breath.

"Good job," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Take these. Be careful with the rifle."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Uh..."

"I need to be able to move freely in here, and the rifle is not ideal in such close quarters," I explained. I drew my PPQ and a knife, leading us inside. "Trust me."

Daryl brought up the rear, the three of us tip-toeing down the darkened hallway. The overturned desks and shattered glass windows spoke of the chaos that erupted before the former occupants of the building departed. I stopped in front of an office door, peering inside, but there was nothing inside, nothing but blood. Daryl checked the door at the end of the hall.

"Anything?" Aaron asked.

Daryl turned, shaking his head with a grim face. "Nah."

Back in Atlanta the Salvation Army offered refuge when the outbreak started. For a brief moment, before we knew exactly what we were dealing with, the organization gave scared people a place to hide with food and limited medical care. It wasn't a huge leap to imagine how that turned out based on what we saw here.

"This way."

I led us deeper into the thrift store, quickly scanning the large warehouse. I didn't see or hear any walkers so I pressed on, the guys following close behind. Daryl and I peeled off to the left and right respectively, checking every corner while Aaron walked down the middle. When we were sure we were alone we started scavenging through the racks of clothes. There were a lot of people at Alexandria and we had high hopes of bringing in even more so we needed a lot, of everything.

"Look at this!" I held up the world's greatest T-shirt, grinning from ear to ear. "For Merle."

Aaron and Daryl stopped what they were doing, reading the shirt. It was black with a large, thick, double-sided arrow pointing up and down with block letters in the middle that read, _"Two-Seater"_.

"That's..." Aaron stuttered.

"Awesome, amazing, hilarious," I supplied, smiling bright.

"I was going to say derogatory and crass."

I shrugged, tossing him the shirt so he could add it to our ever growing pile. "It's important to let them know you can multi-task, right honey?"

"Damn straight." Daryl's lips tipped up in a barely there smile.

Just as quickly as our good time started it vanished. The strangers voice caused an involuntary shutter to run down my spine.

"I agree with the lady."

All three of us pivoted on our heel, turning to face the threat. I held my PPQ steady in my hand, eyeing the two men standing on the opposite side of the thrift store. They both had long hair, but one wore his greasy, dark hair down while the other pulled it back at the nape of his neck. Their faces were covered in dirt, clothes saturated with sweat and blood. Their stench tickled my nose, and it took physical effort to not take a step back. If they smelled this bad from across the room I did not want them getting one step closer.

The one with his hair down was skinny, around my height, and had a crocked nose that had been broken on several occasions. His dark hair matched his black eyes, and I fought the urge to kill him where he stood. When you added it all together he looked downright deranged.

His companion was taller and wider, his blonde, curly hair sticking out in almost every direction on top of his head. His teeth were piss yellow teeth, his blue eyes dull and lifeless. He looked like a vagabond, and clearly didn't give a rat's ass.

"Easy there," the shorter of the two began, smiling at us. He made a point of lowering his weapon though I noticed he kept it in his hand. "We mean you no harm."

Aaron stepped forward, hands raised, and I ground my teeth together. He was going to get himself killed.

"Daryl, Alex." He looked at us, urging us to holster our weapons. "Let's all just take it easy."

This _was_ me taking it easy. Did he see anyone bleeding on the ground?

Reluctantly I lowered my weapon, Daryl following suit though he didn't like it either. This was what we came here to do, find survivors, but these two were setting off my stranger danger alarm.

"We didn't know anyone was in the area," Aaron started, voice calm. "I'm Aaron. This is Daryl and Alex."

"I'm Sam, and this is Reggie."

When Reggie smiled it literally made my skin crawl, and I tightened the grip on my weapon.

"We didn't expect to find anyone in the area."

Aaron may look like an encyclopedia salesman, but he was clever. Open-ended statements couldn't be answered with a simple yes or no. They required the respondent to provide information, information we could then fact check based on what we already knew.

"We're just passing through."

Lie.

Aaron nodded like it made perfect sense while Daryl snuck a subtle glance at me. I smiled back at him, but blinked twice to communicate their deceit. His nostrils flared, and he licked his lips, the only indication he was close to snapping.

"What a coincidence, us too," I said in a light, upbeat voice. I even added a fake smile I hoped didn't come across as eat shit and die.

"Really? You guys look awful good to be living on the road."

Oh Sam, this was not a game you were going to win.

"Believe me, we did not look this good yesterday. We found a house on the outskirts of town with a generator and catchment tank."

Reggie and Sam exchanged a look, and I grinned on the inside. Can of ABCs and 123s said they tried to call my bluff. I may not pay attention to _all_ the details of a plan, but I heard what mattered. Eric had droned on endlessly about his love of an old plantation home outside of Del Ray. He even mentioned seeing a generator and a catchment tank he thought might still work. Eric may not know much when it came to recruiting, but he could make a fortune flipping houses. He'd described the house down to the clichéd white picket fence, awful paint color, and tattered trim.

"You mean the Wilson house? Old colonial home painted baby blue?" Sam asked, setting what he believed to be a devious trap.

I shook my head, "If by baby blue you mean shit brown, than yeah, that one."

Sam chuckled, pointing a finger at me like we were sharing an inside joke. "That's right, now I remember. Lucky find. I didn't know that generator still worked."

Me either.

"It's better to be lucky than good," I smirked.

"Touché." My skin crawled when he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, eyes trailing down my body. My husband took a noticeable step closer, a growl rumbling in his chest. "My bad man, didn't know she was off the market."

Yeah, because the only thing keeping me from running away with him was unavailability. Someone was awfully full of themselves. I hated to break it to him, but I'd rather eat a pufferfish than touch him with a 10-foot pole, and I was deathly allergic to pufferfish.

"She is," Daryl snarled, eyes blazing with challenge. I sighed, testosterone should be a controlled substance.

"Got it." Sam laughed like it was a big, hilarious misunderstanding, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. His eyes flicked up and he extended his hand to me. "You smoke?"

"Only crack."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a half-second before he tipped his head back, laughing hard while Aaron sighed, and Daryl continued to try and kill them both with a look.

"Where are you guys headed?" Reggie asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Undecided."

He cracked his neck at my non-answer, but I kept mine carefully blank. I had a feeling shit was bound to pop off. No need to rush it.

"We heard about a community that's close by." Sam was clearly fishing, and I could only hope Aaron had learned from his mistakes with us. "Supposed to have high walls, plenty of food, and lots of weapons. We were thinking of trying to find it."

"Sounds like Narnia," I retorted.

They were fishing. They didn't know anything about Alexandria, not really. Aaron gave us this job because he said we could tell the good guys from the bad guys, and I could tell him unequivocally these were _bad guys_.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam laughed, "Maybe we'll just stick with you guys for a while. You're doing better than we are right now."

Everyone was doing better than they were right now.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Aaron interjected nervously. "We haven't had the best luck with groups."

Sam nodded like he understood, running a hand through his long, greasy hair, and I froze. The sleeve of his jacket rode up just enough to expose a black tattoo stamped on his right wrist. It was only one word, **Lobos**.

"Lobos no lejos," I said and both men stiffened, eyes blazing in surprise.

I put a bullet in Reggie's head before he could raise his weapon, his body crumpling to the floor. I swung my arm quickly to the left, pulling the trigger before Sam could get a shot off. The bullet clipped him in the shoulder, and he fell to the floor with a strangled yelp of pain. I moved quickly to him while Daryl kicked Reggie's weapon out of his hands, pointing his crossbow at the dead man.

"What happened? Why did you do that?"

Aaron sounded a million miles away and I glanced over my shoulder to find him hiding behind a shelf near the back of the store.

"How did you get over there so fast?" He didn't answer, face entirely too pale for someone who recruited people for a living. I picked up Sam's gun, ignoring the string of profanity tumbling from his mouth, hand clutching the gunshot wound to his shoulder. "How many?"

"Vete a la mierda puta."

"That's not very nice Sammy." I pressed the heel of my boot into his wound, and he howled in pain, body thrashing wildly. "Let's try this again, how many?"

"Two!" he hollered, "Please!"

"Where?"

When he hesitated I increased the pressure on his shoulder and tears fell from his eyes.

"The cars parked two blocks away, north of the park, but the guys are waiting around the corner," he relented.

"Waiting around the corner to what, ambush us, steal our shit, kill us?"

He nodded mutely and I narrowed my eyes at him. Something wasn't right. I just couldn't put my finger on it. He wasn't lying, but he was holding something back. Daryl picked up on it, stopping next to me.

"What is it Red?"

"I don't know it's..." I trailed off, watching Sam as his eyes flitted nervously around the store. It wasn't from pain or fear. "Katniss."

I bent down to search the man while Daryl put the tip of an arrow against the man's forehead. When I rolled him onto his side, pulling his jacket back, I cursed. He had a short range radio tucked in the back of his pants, the red light on, push-to-talk button locked in the on position. They were listening. They'd heard everything.

"Shit." I popped up, sprinting for the back door, Aaron and Daryl hurling questions at me. "Hot mic!" I yelled over my shoulder.

I heard the mechanical whirl of an arrow ending Sam's life as I exploded out of the door. I darted across the street, weaving in-between buildings and jumping over metal fences. Sam said his partners had a car stashed two blocks away. My best guess was they would use highway 1 to hightail it out of dodge, and I couldn't let that happen. These guys were hunters, murderers, and if we let them get away they would take revenge on Alexandria.

Thankfully the clogged streets worked in my favor. The car was parked just north of the park, but Bellefonte Avenue was completely blocked by a pile of burned cars. They would have to double back to find a clear path to the highway which would give me the time I needed.

I kept my breathing steady, pushing harder and faster with each pump of my arms and legs. My calves burned and lungs ached as I sucked in the crisp fall air. My boots pounded on the pavement as I cut a direct path to the highway. The wind whipped my hair back, and I felt a surge of adrenaline when the first sign of the road came into view. Without breaking stride I leapt over a fence, ignoring the two walkers roaming in the backyard. I felt beads of sweat rolling down my forehead, a painful cramp building in my side, but I was almost there. I burst out of the woods, jumping over the fence encircling the park and onto the sidewalk. I bolted into the middle of the highway at the same time a beat up Toyota came skidding around the corner.

I raised my arm, aiming my PPQ at the car barreling down the highway. The driver was going so fast he momentarily fish-tailed when he came around the corner, almost colliding with a light pole, but he righted the vehicle at the last second. The tires squealed, the old vehicle struggling to comply with the blistering speed.

I took a deep breath, steadying my hand. When they were close enough I squeezed the trigger, the bullet shattering the front windshield. The car swerved violently, the body in the passenger seat slumping to the side, but the driver recovered quickly, gunning the engine.

"Red!"

I could see Daryl and Aaron in my peripheral tearing a path across the park, but kept my focus on the car that was now less than 20 yards away. I fired again, the bullet impacting the driver in the shoulder. My body shook with tension and the overwhelming desire to move. I knew exactly what it felt like to be run over by a car, and it wasn't an experience I was looking to repeat, but I couldn't let him get away. I fired twice in rapid succession. The car was so close I could see the cracks in the windshield as they spread across the glass.

 **10 yards**.

I fired once more, and this time my aim was true. The car veered sharply to the left, tires squealing in protest, the engine smoking. A second later something slammed into me. I heard the sound of metal crunching, glass shattering, and tires skidding across the road. Daryl's arms locked around me as he twisted in mid-air, angling his body so he took the brunt of our fall. My bones rattled on impact, the two of us sliding across the rough highway. When we finally stopped I was breathing hard. I held his face in my hands, searching his body for any serious injury.

"Are you alright?"

He shook his head, smirking slightly. "Gotta be." I pursed my lips, continuing my inspection. "I ain't hurt."

"You could have been killed," I admonished, rolling off him and sitting up. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't 'bout to watch ya get run over." I could practically hear the "again" he didn't say.

He couldn't meet my eyes, and I swallowed hard, interlacing our hands. "I was gonna move."

In fact, I was going to do an impressive combat roll at the last second like I was starring in my own action flick. It would have been awesome.

"Cuttin' it a lil' too close for my taste."

"Safety monitor," I joked.

Before he could respond, no doubt with a redneck insult I wouldn't understand, Aaron stumbled to a stop in front of us, wheezing, hands on his knees. Daryl only response was a slight raise of his eyebrows as he watched the man trying and failing to breathe normally.

"You OK man?" I asked, standing up and pulling Daryl with me.

"Oh my god!" Pant. "They almost hit you!" Pant. "Are they dead?" Pant. "What's going on?"

"Woah, slow down, deep breath in," I took a deep breath in through my nose, holding it in for a second before exhaling slowly. "And out."

I felt like a post-apocalyptic Lamaze coach, but it appeared to be helping so I did it a twice more, ignoring the amusement in my husband's eyes. He was right, I was going soft, but Aaron needed soft. This was just our first outing, and he was already traumatized.

When he didn't look close to passing out we made our way to the wrecked vehicle. It was wrapped around a stop light, the front bumper pushed somewhere in the backseat. It was a good thing these guys were already dead cause there was no walking away from this. The passenger's head was completely severed, sitting in the backseat. The driver had a bullet hole in his forehead so the Jaws of Life wouldn't have done him any good either.

Daryl carefully leaned into the car through a broken window, searching the bodies while I searched the glove box.

"What happened back there?" Aaron asked, hands visibly shaking. "What did you say to him?"

"He had the word wolves tattooed on his arm," I explained, rifling through the contents of the glove box. "Lobos no lejos means wolves not far."

"Like the graffiti on the walls around town?" I nodded. "So you think they were part of that gang?"

"I don't think, I know."

"Take a look."

Daryl tossed a stack of Polaroid's across the roof, the grotesque pictures fanning out and putting the Wolves atrocities on full display. Each Polaroid was of a different person, some dead, some alive, some tied to trees, some walkers, but all of them had a bloody 'W' carved into their forehead, and it was obvious they'd been brutally tortured. Every picture was worse than the last, and I felt my throat constricting while my stomach swam.

I knew personally what it felt like to live through this kind of torment. It took something from you, stripped away your innocence, shattered a piece of your soul. Being at the mercy of evil, of a cold, taunting individual who decided with a flick of their finger whether you lived or died was the worst kind of suffering. The sobering reality of torture was that it never ended, even if you somehow managed to escape your captors. Your body may escape the hell, but your mind repeated the events over and over, forcing you to relieve the nightmare, forever.

"Red."

I startled, Daryl's voice directly beside me. I blinked at him a few times, and his lips pressed into a hard line as he slowly reached for my hand, gently prying a Polaroid from my fingers. The worry I felt flowing through my body was reflected on his face. This group was dangerous, sadistic, and close. When they found Alexandria it wouldn't be pretty.

"Should we be worried?" Aaron squeaked, pushing the stack of pictures as far away from him as he could.

In a word, yes, but Aaron knew that. He wasn't looking for the truth right now. He was looking for comfort. This was probably the single greatest threat they'd faced since the turn, and he was scared. It was yet another reminder of how sheltered these people were. They had no idea what was out here, no idea how depraved the world actually was.

I wasn't normally one for coddling, but looking at Aaron's sweaty, pale face, and wide, horrified eyes I couldn't find it in myself to frighten him more. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to protect them all. Alexandria was our best chance at a life since the prison, and no deranged group calling themselves "The Wolves" was going to take that without a fight.

"Nah, we'll be fine," I said, even throwing in a lop-sided grin to really sell it.

"You think?" His eyes drifted back to the stack of pictures.

"Absolutely, life is like a video game, if you run into your enemies it means you're going in the right direction."

Aaron frowned, rolling my logic around in his head while Daryl simply snorted, shaking his head.

"Wow...that's really, inspiring," Aaron mumbled, clearly disheartened.

"Come on, let's go home," Daryl said, sliding his hand into mine and leading us away from the accident, the town, and The Wolves.

* * *

 **I'm a few chapters ahead in this story right now, but am having a bit of writers block. I've been trying to write my way through it, but haven't been thrilled with the chapters so I'm re-doing them. Until I get this sorted out the updates may come every other week. I really apologize, and hope you will stick with the story. I really appreciate everyone's support.**

 **What was your favorite part of this chapter?**


	56. Keep My Head Above Water

**Keep My Head Above Water**

Our second attempt at recruiting was cut short a few days later when Aaron's beat-up Sedan stalled a few miles outside Alexandria. Thankfully there wasn't a car or bike Daryl couldn't fix using nothing but duct tape and a healthy dose of hotness.

Aaron and I stood on the side of the road for a half-hour admiring his ass unapologetically while he diligently worked under the hood. He was oblivious to our fawning, all his focus on the smouldering engine. He occasionally cursed in frustration, asking for more duct tape, or requesting a different tool. It was hard work snapping out my sexual fantasy to retrieve a screwdriver, but somehow I managed. Aaron...not so much.

My grandparents grew up during the Great Depression, and used to say that when you didn't have resources you became resourceful. Daryl might not have grown up in the Great Depression, but he grew up without, and therefore knew how to make due with very little, sometimes nothing at all. Less than two hours after the engine practically exploded he had it purring like a cat with a sinus infection.

By the time we limped the vehicle through the gates it was early afternoon. We met Ariel and Merle's convoy outside the gate. My pulse skyrocketed when I saw the enormous red-head step out of a car covered in blood. There should be no blood. They were on the construction crew. Today was supposed to be nothing more than retrieving supplies. A milk run.

Daryl hadn't even stopped the bike when I jumped off, frantically scanning the line of cars and trucks stacked with building supplies.

"Merle!"

I pushed people out of the way looking for my brother-in-law, but I didn't see him anywhere, and the knot of dread in my stomach expanded exponentially. The longer I searched and couldn't find him the more it felt like someone was choking me. My heart was racing, and there was a very real possibility I was going to cry or kill someone in the very near future. I told myself he was fine, that nothing could kill Merle but Merle in an attempt to calm down. The alternate was too paralyzing to even consider.

"Where is he?!" Daryl shouted at Ariel, his arm snaking around my waist. I leaned into him, my brain short-circuiting with every awful possibility. He was fine. He had to be.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Where?!" Daryl growled.

Ariel raised a red eyebrow, cocking a bear paw on his hip in annoyance with our lack of concern. He pointed at the rear of the convoy, adding a heavy sigh I totally ignored. I bolted out of Daryl's arms, my feet barely touching the ground in my haste. When I rounded the truck I skidded to a stop, gasping in a lung full of air, hastily slapping my hands over my eyes to block out the gruesome scene.

"Oh my god, my eyes!" I cried, turning around just to ensure I never, _ever,_ had to see something like this again.

Daryl slammed into me, and I stumbled back, but refused to uncover my eyes less I see something that haunted my nightmares.

Could you go blind from shock?

Daryl righted me at the last second, one hand on my arm, the other firmly on my hip. I could feel the surprise coming from him, and echoed that thought, and about a million more. There were some things you simply couldn't _"un-see_ ", and Merle swapping spit with a petite woman with short, dark brown hair was one of those things.

"Jesus Christ Firecracker," Merle grumbled. Daryl's surprise quickly morphed into voracious laughter. "Ya can put yur hands down."

"No way."

I wasn't risking it. What if they still had their tongues out? What if " _other things_ " were out? Oh my god the horror. I'd figure out a way to live like this. It couldn't be that hard.

Daryl pried my hands away from my eyes, albeit not without considerable effort on his part. He somehow managed to also turn me around to face the pair, but I wasn't taking any chances. I looked up, down, left, and right. Anywhere but at the two people who moments ago were inspecting each other for strep throat.

"I'm Francine," the woman said, "It's nice to meet you both. Merle's been talking about you all day."

I kept my eyes firmly locked on the sun, hoping it would blind me as I replied, "Nice to meet you too." Daryl elbowed me sharply in the ribs. "Ow, that hurt Katniss."

"Hey," my husband added softly before turning his attention to his brother. "Problems?"

Merle's face transformed into an angry scowl he normally reserved for women who refused to show him their breasts. Whatever happened out there was bad.

"Few walkers snuck up on us, and those pussies tucked tail and ran. Left her for dead." He gestured to Francine who swallowed hard, tucking her hair behind her ears, but I saw the anger flash in her hazel eyes. "These assholes don't know dipshit from apple butter."

Why was he talking about food? I thought we were discussing this community being as useful as an ash tray on Daryl's motorcycle?

Daryl patted my shoulder in mock sympathy, not even trying to hide his smirk, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Merle saved me."

Merle looked embarrassed by the statement, and I shook my head. I wasn't surprised he'd saved her. He was a good man, always had been. He'd risked his life to help us at Woodbury, risked his life for us back at the prison with his doomed plan to kill The Governor, and kept me alive after the prison fell. He pretended to be a _selfish_ , crude, dick-bag, but was really a _selfless_ , crude, dick-bag.

"Ya good?" Daryl asked.

"Gotta be."

The two brothers shared a "moment" that concluded with a curt nod and both of them clearing their throats awkwardly. Francine looked between them in confusion, not sure what was happening. Normally Dixon men came with only two emotions, hungry or horny which was easy to navigate. If you saw him without an erection, you made him a sandwich. Done.

This was different. Even I was unsure how to handle the cyborgs getting misty-eyed over a kinda but not really near death experience. Maybe this could be solved with a sandwich also?

"I'm going to make Merle dinner tonight, as a thank you. I'd love it you guys could come. I'm making lasagna."

Clearly Francine's mind worked liked mine.

Daryl and I stood frozen, caught off guard by the invitation, as well as the sudden coupling. It wasn't that I thought there was anything wrong with Francine, but I'd rather shave off my eyebrows than be anywhere near Merle when he finally ended his celibacy streak. No lasagna in the world was worth the repression therapy I'd need after seeing something like that.

"I don't think..." I trailed off, the refusal dying on the tip of my tongue when the woman's shoulders sagged in disappointment. Merle shot me a glare that made me strategically angle myself behind Daryl just in case he decided to launch an attack. "We'd love to."

She beamed, nudging Merle with her shoulder. He blushed, rubbing his chin shyly, and I tilted my head to the side. I was living in the Twilight Zone. Merle was blushing...over a woman. The only time I'd ever seen him flustered around the opposite sex was with Deadpool, and that was only because she threaten to cut out his tongue if he kept propositioning her.

"Great, see you guys tonight."

Francine pressed a quick kiss against Merle's cheek before sauntering off to apparently make lasagna. Daryl and I stared at him, watching him eye fuck the retreating woman.

"So, when's the wedding?" Merle lunged for me, but I dodged his only hand, using my husband as a human shield. "She's got great child bearing hips. I'm sure she'll bear you many sons."

Merle cursed, trying to maneuver around his brother, but Daryl put a hand on his chest, stopping him. My husband sent me a scolding look that made me stick my tongue out at him. Killjoy. Could I have a little fun before I died?

"Alex, do you have a second?" Beth appeared out of thin air, drawing everyone's attention, and quite literally saving my life.

"Absolutely."

I was speed walking to the youngest Greene daughter before either redneck realized I was gone. She looked troubled, rolling a strand of her long, blonde, hair between her fingers. When I stopped in front of her she hesitated, taking in the numerous people milling around the streets.

"Can we go somewhere else?"

"Uh, sure."

We walked side-by-side in silence to a gazebo in a small garden. People were casually strolling in the streets and sitting outside their homes as the day came to a close. It would be dark soon, maybe an hour at most, and the community was going into lock down. I turned my attention to Beth as we sat on a bench.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah." It sure didn't look like it. Plus, I highly doubted she drug me to a serenity garden so we could shoot the shit. "Well, no, not really. I'm having problems with Noah."

Well...shit.

If she was having guy problems why wasn't she talking to Maggie?

I wasn't good at boyfriend advice, or advice in general unless it involved the best way to kill someone. Before the world ended I never even had a boyfriend. Not that I was a nun. I had fuck buddies, but no one I would consider a boyfriend. Hell, there wasn't even anyone I considered having more than one night with.

After the world ended I had Daryl. He was the only man who ever made me want _more_ , and our path to _more_ was hardly smooth.

He tried to kill me.

I whooped his ass.

We made out.

We ignored each other.

We got married.

I was 99% sure that wasn't how relationships normally worked, but what the fuck did I know? The only relationship rule I adhered to was to make sure you were the crazy one out of the pair. Something told me that wouldn't help Beth.

I scratched my head, taking a few deep breaths to buy myself some much needed time.

"Like his body won't fit in a duffel bag problems or you like him problems?"

Was it horrible I was hoping for the first one? At least that was something I had experience with.

"The second one," Beth confirmed, smiling slightly. Double shit. "Can I ask you something?"

Please don't. I didn't want to fuck this up. Wasn't there anyone else she could ask? Maggie, Glenn, maybe Nugget was available.

"Sure."

"How did you know?"

I frowned, "Know what?"

"About Daryl," she continued, but I still wasn't following. "That he was, you know, the one?"

The one?

Her eyes were wide and hopeful, and I realized she wanted to know how I knew he was it for me. I wasn't sure how to answer because it wasn't any one thing that told me the gruff, anti-social, crossbow wielding, redneck was my future husband. It was more like a million little things.

I could quote Shakespeare and tell her he had me at "arrow in the ass". I could tell her it was because he brought out the best in me, helped me be the person I always wanted to be. I could tell her that until him I'd never known true happiness. Our souls were two halves of the same whole. We existed for each other, connected by an invisible thread not even death could break. I could have told her any of those things, but in the end I settled for the most simplistic reason at my disposal.

"He annoyed me more than I ever thought possible," I explained, smirking at her confusion, "And I wanted to spend every irritating minute with him."

She smiled softly, and I knew she could read between the lines. "That's how I feel about Noah."

"Yeah?" She nodded enthusiastically, and I bumped my shoulder with hers. "Congratulations, what's the problem?"

"I...I love him...I want to be with. I want to get married, now."

"And that's a problem because?"

"Maggie thinks we should wait. She says we're too young. That we haven't known each other long enough, but I'm not a kid. I know what I want, and I want to marry Noah."

Well, that explained why she wasn't talking to Maggie.

"What does Noah want?"

"He doesn't want to upset the only family I have left." Her eyes dropped to the ground. "What do you think?"

Rock, meet hard place.

On one hand I understood Maggie's reservations. Beth was her younger sister and their father was gone. She felt like it was her responsibility to protect her. She only wanted what was best for both of them. Marriage may not be like it was pre-apocalypse, but it wasn't something to take lightly. Tying yourself to another person, pledging to love them for the rest of your life, was a big freakin' deal.

On the other hand I saw Beth's point. Nothing was guaranteed anymore, not today, and certainly not tomorrow. In a world where children were forced to kill or die the concept of "too young" was gone. If Noah and Beth were in love and wanted to get married no one should stand in their way.

"I think if you're lucky enough to find someone to love, who loves you in return, nothing should stand in your way." She threw her arms around me, and I returned the gesture. "I'll talk to Maggie."

"Thanks Alex."

I could only hope Maggie didn't put a witch doctor curse on me for encouraging this.

Commotion at the front gate drew our attention and I stood, shielding my eyes against the setting sun. A panel van slammed on its breaks outside Deanna's house, Billy Ray Cyrus jumping out and immediately yelling for help. Beth and I both took off, my gut clenching in apprehension when I saw Glenn covered in blood pulling an unconscious Tara from the back of the van. It wasn't until I finally saw Noah's tall, slim, figure explaining what happened that I realized I was holding my breath.

"Noah!"

Beth launched herself into his arms, the young man barely able to stay upright when her tiny body collided with his. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in the crock of her neck. I looked at Glenn to give them some privacy, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"Are you OK?"

He nodded shakily, face far too pale. "Yeah." Maggie skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing heavy and looking close to fainting. "I'm alright," he told his wife, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

I stepped back, eyes roaming the growing crowd. Billy Ray and a few others were carefully transporting Tara inside Deanna's house. It was only when my eyes landed on the Alexandrian leader that it hit me who was missing.

Aiden.

I was so relieved our group was unharmed I'd forgotten about her son. The short woman slowly walked to Glenn, and I could tell by the look on her face she already knew the truth. She took a moment to collect herself before addressing him, eyes downcast.

"Did he suffer?"

Glenn hesitated, opening his mouth only to have words fail him. Deanna's eyes slid to him, her face grief stricken, and Glenn licked his lips, shaking his head.

"No, he didn't."

Lie.

Deanna sagged in relief, her husband appearing behind her, putting his hands on her shoulder and guiding her away. Nicholas stopped in front of them, head bowed, muttering something I couldn't hear. She nodded jerkily, putting a hand on his shoulder briefly before he turned on his heel and walked away.

Maggie slipped her hand into Glenn's, face worried. It was obvious Glenn was shaken, and it took more than your average bullshit to do that to our group. Whatever happened out there was horrible, and now Aiden was dead, and Tara was hurt.

I knew the moment I met Aiden he was incompetent, that he shouldn't be out there, but standing in front of his grieving parents that knowledge felt like a hallow victory. He was a lot of things, but first and foremost, he was their son, and now he was gone. Deanna's husband gently steered her towards their house, the parent's leaning on each other both figuratively and literally. When they were gone Maggie turned to her husband, holding his blood covered face in her hands.

"Are you really OK?"

"Yeah, I..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "It was a routine run, a few walkers, but nothing we couldn't handle until...Aiden panicked. He shot a walker wearing a grenade, and it went off. He was impaled and Tara was knocked unconscious."

Maggie shushed him, pulling him closer. "You did everything you could."

"Did we?" Glenn looked lost, broken, and I felt myself shiver. "We could have saved him, maybe, I don't know."

Second-second guessing your decisions was human nature. It was in our DNA to constantly wonder if we'd made the right choices in life. Glenn's story didn't contain much detail, but I could read between the lines. When shit hit the fan they ran. They didn't try to save Aiden, and the guilt of that decision was eating away at him.

"Glenn..."

"You did this!" Noah's booming accusation drowned out whatever Maggie was going to say. He stalked forward like a predator, eyes locked on me. I'd never seen the man so volatile, and the fact it was directed at me stunned me into paralysis. "This is your fault!"

I was caught so off-guard by the accusation I couldn't respond. Beth's eyes were wide with fear as she tried and failed to restrain her fiancé. He shook her off, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. I'd never seen him like this, hostile, angry, and capable of extreme violence. Even when he ambushed us and stole our weapons in Atlanta he was exceedingly polite, if not regretful. He was none of those things now. He was a powder keg ready to explode, and the blast was aimed at me.

"You told me to run! You said to leave anyone who wasn't us!" He was shouting in my face, hands curled in my shirt so he could pull me closer. I said nothing because he was right. "You're a monster!"

His shove was hard and unexpected. Between the force and my shock I was unable to stop my fall. I didn't even try. He wasted no time pouncing on top of me, picking up right where he left off, and I said nothing, I did nothing, because again, he was right.

"We could have saved him, but I didn't even try because your words were stuck in my head! I grabbed Glenn and we ran! We ran and left a man to die!"

Glenn tried to wrestle him off me, but Noah's rage was more than enough to withstand his attempt. I could have ended this at any time, but I didn't. I told myself it was because I was too shocked even though I knew that was a lie. I deserved his hatred. What was worse, I recognized it because I harbored the same hatred in my own heart. Hearing him put a voice to it was worse than being shot. It was punishment for what I was, for the things I'd done.

"I don't want to be like you!" he snarled, face inches from mine. "You're a killer!" His accusation made me flinch. I would gladly take punches over his brutal honesty. "I would rather die than end up like you!"

Suddenly he was thrown off me. Daryl tackled him to the ground, slamming the younger man hard into the cement with a guttural growl. I didn't move, I couldn't, shaking too badly from the encounter to find my feet.

"That's enough goddamn it!" Daryl hissed, eyes dangerous. He was ready to end lives should the occasion call for it.

Noah's anger deflated as quickly as it had appeared. He rolled on his side, burying his face in his hands, and crying. Merle knelt beside me, helping me sit up slowly before pulling me to my feet. Beth knelt beside Noah, her own tears streaking down her face. She whispered words I didn't care to hear, trying to ease his suffering.

Daryl planted his body in front of me. He was shaking with barely contained aggression that was unnecessary. The younger man didn't retaliate, and somehow that made me feel sick. Watching him simply stand there, looking at me like I was the root of everything awful in this world, was agony. I knew that look. My father had leveled it at me my entire childhood.

Our eyes locked and I held my breath, waiting. When he finally looked away all the air whooshed out of my lungs. He said nothing else, his shoulders sagging as he turned and walked away with Beth. Daryl turned swiftly, eyes searching my body for any injury while Merle stepped away, giving us space.

"I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."

That was a lie. He may not have touched me, but his words inflicted fatal wounds on my already battered soul, and my husband knew it. He reached forward to touch my face, but I stepped back, swallowing hard when hurt flashed on his face for the briefest of moments.

"Alex, he didn't mean it," Glenn assured me, "If we hadn't run when we did we'd...we'd probably be dead now. He knows that. He's just hurting. Give him time."

I licked my lips, offering him a curt nod. That wasn't true, and we all knew it. I was the one who told him to get our people and run if things went south. I hadn't given a second thought to the Aiden or Nicholas. I hadn't cared what happened to them as long as our people were safe. He would have never done that if I hadn't made him promise.

Noah was a lot like Glenn. He saved people, believed in them almost to a fault. He was a good person with a gentle soul. Hell, after I was taken by Dawn's sycophants he was instrumental in getting me back. He was ready to sacrifice himself for strangers. He'd helped us for no other reason than it was the right thing to do.

"Y'all headed back to the house?" Maggie asked, trying to relieve some of the tension in the air.

"Having dinner at Francine's. We'll be back after," Merle answered, eyes locked on me while he gnawed on a fingernail.

She smiled weakly before leading Glenn back to our house. I wanted nothing more than to follow them, to hide from the world in our tiny room in the basement, but I'd promised Merle. So when they started walking to Francine's house I followed. The journey was awkward. It was obvious both men wanted to say something, anything, but per the norm, words failed them. It was the first time in a long time I was grateful for the Dixon's inability to navigate an emotional crisis. I was using every bit of internal strength to hold myself together despite Noah's words tearing me apart. I couldn't handle dissecting what happened.

I told myself I could do this, that I _would_ do this, for Merle. I would just take it slow, and not think. Walk up the steps. Go inside. Sit down. Eat. Those were things I could do. If I broke the evening down into manageable chunks it wouldn't be so overwhelming. It had the added bonus of keeping my mind occupied.

Francine opened the door with a genuine smile, ushering us inside with a flurry of conversation about how the lasagna almost didn't turn out and the bread nearly burned. I forced a smile on my face, but my lips quivered and it fell. It took a grand total of 30 seconds for her cheerful mood to be replaced with concern, and I felt even worse. I tried to answer her questions, to not move around her house like a robot, but failed miserably.

She took pity on us, showing us to a large dinner table lined with enough food to feed an Army. Daryl and I sat on one side with Francine and Merle on the other. My plate was filled with piping hot, cheesy, lasagna, salad, and bread then my glass was filled to the brim with red wine. I stared down at the food, queasiness swimming in my stomach instead of hunger. Francine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes darting around the table uneasily. She continued to talk, carrying the entirety of the conversation which must have been awful.

I needed to try, for my brother-in-law, for the woman he clearly liked, but I couldn't get myself to move. I sat rooted in my chair, hands in my lap, eyes focused on a chip in the otherwise pristine dining room table. I heard Merle explaining what happened on the Glenn's run, listened to Francine ask questions, and offer condolences that were unnecessary, but it all felt like it was happening a million miles away. Meanwhile it felt like Noah's words were being blasted out of a bullhorn directly in my ear, drowning out everything else.

 _You did this!_

 _You're a monster!_

 _I'd rather die than be like you!_

"Alex?"

My head snapped up, eyes unfocused. "Huh?"

Three sets of eyes stared back at me. Two laced with obvious concern, and one with sympathy. I didn't realize I was on my feet until Daryl's hand shot out, stopping the chair from toppling over behind me.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

Francine nodded, pointing down the hall. "Second door on the left."

I walked on autopilot away from the table into the hall, passing the first door, then the second. I didn't realize where I was going until I was turning the handle on the front door and stepping outside. I sucked in the fresh evening air like a woman suffocating. Tears stung my eyes as I swung my head left and right, looking for an escape. I stumbled down the stairs, feet carrying me further and further away from the house. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was I couldn't stay there.

The dark, deserted streets of Alexandria were a blessing. It felt like I could disappear in the night, and that feeling helped relieve some of the pressure sitting on my chest. I focused on the sound of my feet slapping against pavement, sucking in the cool, crisp air as I tried to put physical distance between myself and my demons. I knew I was on the verge of losing it, and my walk quickly turned into a jog.

I didn't know where I was going until I was already there. My chest was heaving by the time I stopped in front of the clock tower, my heart thumping painfully fast. I threw the door open, taking the stairs two, then three at a time. The staircase twisted and curved around in a circle taking me higher and higher. I felt the walls pressing in on me, a physical manifestation of my fears, and I pumped my legs harder. I staggered onto the top floor in the middle of a full blown panic attack. I slammed the fragile, wood, door closed like I was slamming a door to my past. I braced my hands on my knees, panting, crying, and shaking so badly my legs wobbled then finally buckled and gave out. My back hit the wall, feet sliding out from under me as a guttural sob slipped from my lips. When I hit the ground I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I was crying so hard it was difficult to breath.

I drank the poison my mind poured for me, not the least bit surprised it was killing me. Sadly, this time it wasn't just killing _me_. It was killing those around me. I'd always feared this eventuality, always feared who I was infecting those I loved. I was just as deadly as the disease that turned people into walkers, probably worse because what I did was a conscious choice.

That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the lack of regret I felt about what happened. Noah, Glenn, Tara, and Eugene were safe, and I wouldn't trade their lives for Aiden's. The thought made me feel empty. What kind of person prioritized lives like they were trading cards?

A heartless one.

I'd taken something from Noah. I may not have been cognizant of it at the time, but I'd done it all the same. I knew because the same thing had been taken from me years ago. I hadn't realized the ramification of my choices then, but it was my choice, my decision. I'd robbed Noah of that right. When I'd told him to save our lives at the expense of others I'd withheld what that choice would do to him, to his soul. And I think...I think I'd done it on purpose. If he'd had all the facts, known how the decision would change him, he wouldn't have made it. So I hadn't told him.

I buried my face in my hands, shoulders shaking as I cried.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. I was capable of much, much, worse. This group was my family. I loved them. I'd do anything for them, but they weren't Daryl. My love for him knew no bounds. Was there anyone, _anything_ , I wouldn't sacrifice to save him? The answer made me shake my head, the truth so painful it was difficult to bear. I wasn't able to find the words, but I knew the answer all the same.

I'd sacrifice anything to save him.

Anyone.

Not for the first time I wondered if this group would be better off without me. I once told Rick you couldn't put a price on living with yourself. Noah was paying that price right now, and by extension, so was I. The world was ruthless. It demanded ruthlessness in return. Nothing less would satisfy its endless hunger, and I made sure it got its fill today.

"Nice night."

I sniffled, raising my head just enough to watch Merle sit down next to me. He said nothing more, eyes drifting over the brilliant stars dotting the night sky. He casually draped an arm over his knee, his other leg stretched out in front of him.

"How'd you find me?"

"Know ya better than ya think I do."

"Is Daryl OK?"

Running out like that was liable to give my overprotective husband a heart attack.

"Yeah, told him to let me talk to ya. He's waitin' at the house." I glanced at him, surprised he was able to pull that off. "It took a fair bit of convincin'."

I snorted, swiping away a tear I was unable to stop from falling. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner. I'll make it up to you and Francine."

"Didn't ruin nothin'." I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued, "Ain't nothin' more important than family, and yur family Firecracker." My lips trembled, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Christ woman, come here."

He put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer, and I started girl crying like a champ. He patted my arm gently, saying nothing while I cried my heart out. I felt no judgment, no sympathy, nothing but quiet, steadfast support. He simply held me and let me cry.

Slowly, my tears transformed from a gushing waterfall to a light rain shower before stopping completely, but I didn't pull away and he didn't let me go.

"I feel like I'm drowning," I admitted.

My twin brother, a whopping five minutes older than me, died long before I ever got the chance to know him. I never fought with him. I never laughed with him. I never knew what it was like to have a brother, but I got a second chance with Merle. We may tease each other, irritate each other, and occasionally come to blows, but I couldn't live without him.

"Ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout." He took a deep breath, thumb tapping a rhythmic pattern on my upper arm."I'll keep yur head above water lil' sister."

I swallowed hard, blinking away the tears his declaration caused. Daryl and Merle gave me something I thought I'd never have again, a family, but the nagging voice in my head refused to let me forget what I'd done. I didn't deserve this kind of devotion.

"I was the driving force behind what happened today. I can't live with that. I don't know how to fight for my life, for the lives of those I love, without losing myself."

He considered my words carefully before replying. "Ya think an awful lot of yurself." I scoffed, pulling away slightly so I could see his face. "Would ya rather Glenn and the kid died out there?"

"No, of course not, but..."

"Ya didn't tell that boy nothin' he don't already know." My mouth snapped shut. "It ain't easy to live with the choices ya make sometimes. Noah ain't used to what it's like, the guilt that comes from makin' the difficult call. He was lookin' for somewhere to put that hurt, and ya were an easy to target."

I crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed he was making sense. "Doesn't make him wrong."

"I bet my left nut that kid is pacing the house tryin' to figure out how to apologize, and not get a knife to the chest."

"He doesn't have anything to apologize for."

"The hell he don't," he snapped, "What happened today was fucked up, but he ain't gonna get away with treatin' ya like that."

It wasn't just a statement. It was a promise. I suddenly felt sorry for Noah. The wrath of the Dixon's was as legendary as it was terrifying.

"Don't be too hard on him," I tried, but Merle's face gave nothing away. My eyes drifted to the sky, and I sighed. "You think it will always be like this?"

It was an open ended question. Would we ever be safe? Would we always be fighting walkers? Did we stand a chance? Could we outrun our demons?

"I don't know," he admitted, resting his head on the wall. "But I hope not."

"Me too," I sighed, laying my head on his shoulder. "I like Francine."

"Yeah, well, it ain't nothin'."

"Liar." He rubbed his face with his hand, uncomfortable with the subject matter. "You deserve to be happy."

He said nothing, but his body language displayed his disagreement. I knew he was thinking about Melinda, the woman he loved and drove away out of fear. He was afraid to fall in love with Francine, afraid of not being good enough for her. He was afraid of letting someone close only to have them not like what they saw.

"You're not that man, not anymore." He sucked in a breath, body going stiff beside me. "I'll make you a promise. I'll work on letting what happened today go if you follow your heart, wherever it leads."

I wanted my brother-in-law to be happy, to fall in love, to have a family. I'd do anything to give him even a fraction of the happiness I experienced with his brother.

"Deal."

I smiled at him, linking our arms. "Should we head back?"

"Nah, we got time."

We sat in silence, both lost in thought. I came up here to hide, straddling a line between giving up and going back for more. Until Merle materialized at my side I didn't realize there was no decision to make. I'd always go back, always put myself out there for my family.

It was easy to forget the tragedy of life wasn't death, not really. Death was easy. Living was much harder. True surrender only happened when we let hope dwindle.

I knew what I was capable of, but that didn't define me. There was more to my story than that. There was more to me than what I could do. I wasn't just a killer, not anymore. I hadn't been since the day I stumbled across Daryl in the woods.

It was late by the time we left the clock tower. The two of us walked side-by-side back to the house, and despite the gravity of today's events I felt lighter. He nudged my shoulder, a slight smirk on his face as he kept his eyes focused ahead of him. I grinned, elbowing him in the ribs lightly.

The hope I'd felt diminish earlier burned a little brighter. Merle chuckled, casually asking if I was alright like he never had a doubt I would be though it was clear he was still concerned. My only answer was a sly grin followed by another elbow to his ribs.

I wasn't there yet, but I was closer than I was an hour ago.

* * *

 **So, another big change, Noah survived the ill-fated run, and he wants to marry Beth. We're all rooting for those crazy kids...am I right? Per the norm, nothing comes easy to this group. Do you guys think Noah and Beth will get their happily-ever-after?**

 **The herd to end all herds is on the horizon, and with that The Wolves. Lots of exciting stuff coming. Hope you're looking forward to it.**


	57. Old Friends

**Old Friends**

"It's not that I don't like Noah. He's great. They're just so young. Do they really need to get married _now_?"

I bit my lip, selecting my words carefully. I'd promised Beth I'd speak to her sister about her desire to marry Noah, but getting in the middle of Greene family drama was something I'd like to avoid, especially when one party was a witch doctor.

"She's your sister, but she's not a little girl. She's an adult. They both are, and they aren't asking for your permission." Maggie's shoulders stiffened slightly at the implication. "I think you're going to regret it if you don't give them your blessing.

She crossed her arms, lips pressed together in a thin line as she thought it over. I wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, but sometimes you needed to hear it from someone else for it to really make sense.

She only wanted what was best for her sister, and sometimes, despite how the world had changed, it was difficult to let go of the past. A few years ago two almost 20-year olds getting married would have made anyone nervous, but things were different now. Living to the ripe old age of 20 was an achievement not many were likely to see. Denying yourself something you loved, something you wanted, simply based on birthdates was too trivial to abide.

"You're right," she admitted, "I'm just trying to protect her."

I nodded, "Noah's a good man. He'll take care of her. She'll always be your little sister Mag's."

"After what happened yesterday I'm surprised you're going to bat for him."

Ouch. That stung a little. Did I really come off as that shallow?

However, to be fair, I'd consider putting off my chat for a few days just to make him sweat, but ultimately I did the right thing. That had to count for something.

"You really think I'd sacrifice Beth's happiness because the kid said some stuff I already know?"

"Don't deflect and don't down play what happened," she countered, "He was wrong, and he needs to fix it."

"Get yur shit outta my way!" Daryl barked.

Noah scrambled to pick up the pieces of weapons that were laid out on the porch for cleaning. My husband stood there watching and waiting, an angry scowl on his face. If looks could kill Daryl would be a weapon of mass destruction. His current mood could be summed up in one word, menacing.

"Boy, ya move slower than cream risin' on buttermilk!" Merle shouted, making Noah fumble and subsequently drop what was in his arms.

The brothers could easily step around, or even over, the plethora of weapons on the porch. Instead, they glared at Noah while he muttered apologies and scrambled to clear a path. Even from the street I could see he was sweating and shaking, making the task of getting off their radar almost impossible.

"Yeah, he's paying for that in spades, and then some," I commented.

It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. If the car accident involved two rednecks with a grudge they'd likely take the grave, and a boy-man with no chance of surviving the accident.

"If ya don't hurry the fuck up I'm gonna tear yur arm off and beat ya to death with the bloody stumps!"

Daryl's latest threat made us both wince, Beth's soon-to-be husband tripping and falling over his own feet. Yeah, Noah was getting a thorough introduction into what happened if you got on the wrong side of a Dixon. There was no need for me to punish him. He'd be lucky to survive Captain Hook and Legolas.

"I almost feel sorry for him," Maggie said. Merle finally lost what little patience he possessed, shoving kid out of his way and stalking down the stairs.

"Almost."

She grinned, giving me a hug, and telling me to be careful today. She offered the brother's a smile when she passed.

"Noah better watch out or you guys are going to turn him into cream corn," I laughed, only to stop when I realized they weren't. Daryl was shaking his head like my failure to assimilate the hillbilly language pained him while Merle blew out a sigh any valley girl would envy. "Wait, is it just regular corn? Corn on the cob? Mexican street corn?"

"It's a good thing yur hot Firecracker cause ya ain't too bright." I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at Merle which only served to amuse him. "See y'all later."

"Come on, we're late," Daryl said, nudging my shoulder with his. "Ya good?"

"Gotta be."

He frowned, "Don't do that. Not with me."

"I'm alright," I assured him, slipping my hand into his. "I'm tougher than I look."

"Ya look pretty damn tough Red."

"It's the leather jacket and combat boots, makes me look like a total badass." He gave my attire a once over though I noticed he gave my ass a twice over. "How long are you going to punish Noah?"

His eyes snapped away from my ass, the blue orbs piercing. "Man made his bed…"

"And now he has to go to sleep." Daryl's lips twitched, a sure sign I'd fucked it up, again. "Do you think I'm ever going to be able to speak your language? I really felt like I was getting the hang of it there…for a second…a few days ago…maybe."

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, studying me closely as he lit the smoke. "If it makes ya feel any better ya suck at it more than anyone I ever met."

I glared at him. Today was going to be a _"don't play well with others"_ kind of day. On a positive note, if I was going to suck at something at least I sucked the most. I was nothing if not competitive.

I turned my attention back to Noah. For Beth's sake I needed to reign in my husband and in-law before they fundamentally crushed her newly minted fiancé.

"I think you can tone it down when we get back. He didn't mean it, and he's got enough to stress about with the wedding…."

"Wedding?"

"Yeah, he and Beth are getting married." He stopped in the middle of the street, looking at me like I'd just told him we'd eaten the last can of ABCs and 123s. "What?"

"Ain't they a little young to be gettin' hitched?"

Hitched? Was it the 1800s? Was Maggie going to have to pay a dowry when her sister tied the knot?

"You sound like Maggie," I mumbled, walking away, "They're 20-ish, their old enough to vote, drink, smoke cigarettes." I flicked his smoke, and he moved it to the other hand so it was out of reach. "I think they're old enough to get married."

He bit his thumbnail in silent contemplation. Beth and Daryl shared a special bond. Just like Maggie felt the need to mother her younger sister, Daryl felt the need to "big brother" the woman he viewed as little sister.

"I hear Merle's planning quite the bachelor party," I added, dragging his attention away from Beth's impending nuptials. I wagged my eyebrows, even adding a little shoulder shimmy. "What happens at the bachelorette party, stays at the bachelorette party."

"Thought ya said _bachelor_ _party_?"

"You really think I'm going to let Beth _'get hitched'_ without a little debauchery first?"

"I don't know who I should be worried 'bout more," he said with a slow shake of his head.

"One more fling before the ring!" He sighed, refusing to acknowledge me or my words. "We're gonna raise some hell before the wedding bells!" He picked up his pace, trying to put some distance between us. "One last ride for the bride!"

My outburst garnered the attention of an elder couple sitting on their porch enjoying a cup of coffee. He was wearing "church clothes", complete with a laundered, button down shirt, and dress pants. His immaculate ensemble made me nervous. I didn't even dress in church clothes when I went to church.

His wife was wearing a conservative dress that ended modestly at mid-calf, legs crossed at the ankle like a proper lady. Her neatly coifed hair made me self-conscious, and I attempted to wrangle my red locks into submission.

Judging by her pale faces and his stern expressions I'd committed a social faux paus, but whether they were offended by the talk of parties, drinking, or pre-marital fornication was a hard call? Daryl offered them an awkward wave before clamping a hand on my wrist and hauling me away.

"Do I wanna know what ya got planned?"

I already told him what I had planned, in detail.

"There's only two steps to throwing a kickass party Neytiri." I held up one finger to emphasize my point. "A solid foundation of alcohol." I ignored his eye roll, holding up a second finger. "And an above average level of inappropriateness."

The only difference between Beth's bachelorette party and my day-to-day life was the alcohol.

"I got a feelin' yur ' _party_ '." Loved the air quotes by the way. "Is gonna end up with ya passed out drunk, face down in the street?"

I scoffed, that was insulting. "Only after I wake everyone up at 2 a.m. and tell them I love them first."

"Well, I'll say one thing, it ain't never gonna be borin'."

"Damn straight."

We only stopped at Aaron and Eric's long enough to pick up Daryl's bike, and push Aaron out the door. Well, I left the picking up and pushing out to Daryl while I raided the kitchen, devouring a blueberry scone cooling on the counter with an illicit moan. Eric's baking skills were the stuff of legends. He grinned, blushing when I hugged him, and promised to give him my first born as thank you for the delicious baked goods. I then promptly hid another two in my pockets for later.

Aaron was already in the car with the engine running, and Daryl was sitting atop his motorcycle when I skipped down the steps. He cocked his head to the side, watching me, and I fought the urge to squirm. There was _no way_ he knew.

"Got a little blueberry right here."

He reached out, swiping his thumb across my bottom lip and my eyes bulged, guilt making my blush bloom. I slapped his hand away, checking for any incriminating evidence in the form of blueberry scone residue and found none.

"How did you know?"

He smirked, "Ya look like a squirrel packin' away nuts for the winter." My hands flew to my jacket and I swallowed hard before sighing, shoulder deflating. Oh who was I trying to fool? The gig was up. "Figured it had to be food or bullets. I played the odds."

If the grin on his stupid face wasn't so intoxicatingly sexy I'd slap him. He was just too hot for his own good. It was hard to be pissed at someone _and_ fantasy about riding their anaconda simultaneously.

"Fine, I'll give you one, but don't tell Aaron. I only have two."

It wasn't until after he'd eaten one of the scones that Aaron let it slip Eric had given them a couple for the road. I could have wasted my day plotting revenge, but I didn't, because I was a grown-up. Besides, karma was life's way of saying let's see how the fuck you like it.

We spent the day like any other outside the fence, recruiting. So far we hadn't actually recruited anyone, but not for lack of trying. Other than the Wolves we hadn't seen hide nor hair of anyone living. As it turned out, recruiting was hard work when you couldn't find people that weren't assholes.

It was getting dark, and Aaron wanted to head back to Alexandria. Daryl was reluctant to call it quits, pleading his case to spend the night outside the safety of the community. The plan made our plus one uncomfortable, and I couldn't say it wasn't justified. Night outside the walls was a dangerous place. As if to emphasize the point Daryl shot an arrow through the head of a lone walker lumbering towards us.

"There's more of them around here than there used to be." I eyed Aaron skeptically. Just because he hadn't seen walkers didn't mean they weren't there. "Not many people…"

"Shhh," Daryl interrupted, pointing across the clearing. "Someone is."

The campfire was easily visible in the darkness. The flames would act like a homing beacon for walkers and the living alike. It wasn't the smartest move, but it was the first sign of life we'd seen so we couldn't pass up the opportunity to check it out.

The camp was abandoned when we got there. Either they heard us coming and split, or something else drove them away. Daryl and I scoured the camp for clues while Aaron kept watch.

"Two people," I said, using the tip of my knife to sort through trash, an empty can and a half full water bottle. "They left in a hurry."

The fact they'd left the water bottle behind spoke volumes. Water was a precious resource. It could save your life just as easily as it could spell your doom.

"Headed this way."

Daryl led us west, following the faint tracks through the forest for most of the night. We only stopped intermittently to rest, two people catching a few minutes of sleep while the third kept watch. It was early morning, the sun just cresting the tops of the trees, when we found them, or what was left of them. The bodies had been hacked up, dismembered like a scene out of a horror movie. I saw four arms lying side-by-side, a torso, a handful of legs, and then stopped taking stock. I didn't know what was here. I really didn't want to know what was missing.

The cuts on the bodies were clean, made by an incredibly sharp object judging by the state of the remains. Judging by sheer size I estimated both bodies were male, and I noted a gold wedding band on one of the hands. I couldn't help but notice we were missing a head, and suppressed a shiver of unease. Whoever did this was seriously disturbed.

"Do you think they made the fire?"

I bit my lip, Daryl and I sharing a look. "We'll never know."

"Whoever did this took what was left of 'em." Daryl sounded disgusted. The world was so fucked up it was shocking. "This just happened."

Killing someone was one thing. Hacking them up, and taking trophies was quite another.

"Should we keep going?"

It was obvious Aaron wanted to tuck tail and run. Not that I blamed him. This was the stuff of nightmares.

"We're too close to home," I answered, following behind Daryl who'd already made the decision to continue, "We can't take the chance this finds its way back to us."

We hadn't walked more than a few minutes when I caught sight of something. I jogged forward, passing Daryl who tried to hold me back, but it was too late.

Her hair was blonde, or at least it used to be. Now it was red, coated in her blood. I don't know why that was the first thing I noticed. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. I forced myself to look at the rest of her, lips trembling slightly as a tremor raced down my spine.

She was naked, and tied to a tree. The wire restraining her was so tight it dug into her pale skin leaving behind ghastly wounds. The more she fought to get free the worse the pain would have been. Judging by the depth of the wounds on her arms, torso, and legs she fought hard.

Her abdomen was ripped open, what was left of her internal organs spilling out. I saw claw marks on her stomach where the walkers had torn her apart, could see the thick column of her spinal cord through the hole where her stomach should have been. There was so much blood, on her body, on the ground at her feet, there was no mistaking the facts. She'd been alive when it happened.

"She's tied up," Aaron mumbled. "They found her…they tore her apart. This just happened?"

Yes.

The blood was still viscous, her body not yet cold. Rigor mortis hadn't even set in which could happen as quickly as four hours after death in some cases.

"Yeah," Daryl answered, his shoulder brushing mine as he stepped forward.

"How the hell did this happen?"

In a word, evil.

I knew what we'd see before Daryl lifted her head, but still I wasn't prepared. The barbaric W carved into her forehead made my stomach swim. I turned my head away, taking a few measured breaths. I didn't think I'd ever get used to seeing that. I didn't want to.

The Wolves.

Her snarls of reanimation flipped a switch inside me. I drove a knife into her head before either man could make a move, body shaking with barely contained rage. I was going to find every member of The Wolves. I was going to rip their bodies apart, piece by piece, then put their heads on spikes outside of Alexandria's gates. I was going to tie their bodies to trees so tight they wouldn't be able to feel their fingers or toes, but they'd feel the walkers when they came. They'd feel their claws flaying their flesh, and their teeth ripping them open.

"Red." Daryl placed a hand on either shoulder, forcing me to face him. "Come back to me."

My body shook, my eyes distant. "They don't get to live."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Not like this."

He knew what I was thinking. It shouldn't have surprised me, and it definitely should have made me feel ashamed, but it didn't. He knew I wanted them dead. What's more, he knew I wanted them to suffer. I didn't want him to now I was capable of such thoughts, but I couldn't mask it. I was blinded by hatred.

I nodded and he narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe me. It was a testament to how well he knew me. There was only one way to fight evil, and that was with evil. If I had to become that evil to end this kind of atrocity then so be it. The Wolves were living on borrowed time. Every breath they took a gift I granted.

"Let's go."

We decide the safest option was to leave the area. The Wolves were clearly nearby, and while I wanted them gone I didn't want Aaron and Daryl with me. Too many things could go wrong. I wouldn't chance either man getting hurt. Instead, we backtracked to our vehicles, deciding to scout the road leading back to Alexandria.

"Here," I said.

We were standing next to the bike. His eyebrows furrowed as he peered down at my outstretched hand. He took the black Ray-Ban sunglasses, rubbing dirt off the lenses with his thumb, smiling slightly. He was going to look drool worthy wearing those while riding his bike. Lord knows the dead guy missing a head wasn't going to need them anymore. When he put them on I glanced down at my panty's to see if they spontaneously caught fire.

"Like what ya see Red?"

"You know, I've never chased a man in my life, but for you, I'd power walk like a mofo."

His 100-watt smile lit up his face. He stepped into my personal space, arms going around my waist and pulling me flush against him. My eyes fluttered closed as his lips pressed against mine. I could taste the cigarette he'd smoked earlier this morning. He smelled like the woods, the scent of pine trees whirling around me. It was a powerful combo.

"Uh, I'm thrilled you guys are keeping the spark alive, but if we want to check out some other places before dark we need to go."

Daryl pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead and jumping on the bike. I pointed two fingers at my eyes then at Aaron. Cock blocking was a no-no. He swallowed hard, ducking into the safety of his car.

"Quit it," Daryl chastised, starting the bike.

"He started it. Cock blocking will not be tolerated."

He snorted, twisting the throttle, the tires digging into the asphalt and propelling us forward. I buried my head in-between his shoulder blades. The crisp morning air was giving way to warmer temperatures now that the sun was up, but the wind beat across my face causing my long hair to slap at my eyes. Plus, it was still chilly. It would be winter soon, and that was going to suck.

About 10 minutes later Daryl pulled to the side of the road, Aaron following suit, and I hopped off the bike. We all walked along the side of the road, looking for any signs of life. I found a set of tracks, maybe a day old that led deeper into the forest.

"Got something."

Daryl jogged over, inspecting them. "Ain't fresh."

I nodded, "It's all we've got."

At this point something was better than nothing. Every person we found before the Wolves was a life we could potentially save. If these tracks happen to belong to The Wolves, well, that saved me the trouble of hunting them down.

"Let's go," I stated, following the tracks.

It was easy enough to follow the footprints. Whoever left them either wasn't concerned with covering their trail or didn't know how.

"Are you going to be able to find them?" Daryl and I stopped, both turning in unison to stare at our companion. He held up his hands as if to apologize for doubting us. "Right, stupid question." I pivoted on my heel, continuing. "If we see them, we hang back, set up the mike, watch and listen."

I was going to assume he was talking to Daryl. I hadn't agreed to anything of the sort, and I didn't want to break a promise.

"For how long?" Daryl asked, following me.

"Until we know."

Waste of time if you asked me. I didn't need a camera and mic to find out what I needed to know.

"You sent people away?" Daryl asked.

Aaron hesitated for a second, and I glanced at him over my shoulder. By the way he hung his head and the slight slouch in his shoulders they had, and he still felt guilty over it.

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Daryl continued, driving the conversation. He must have really warmed up to Aaron otherwise this journey would have been made in complete silence.

"It was early on. It was three people. Two men and a woman. Davidson was their leader. Smart as hell, strong. I thought they'd work out. They didn't. I brought them in, and I had to see them out. Have you ever had to do that?"

I knelt next to a log, examining the footprints. "I don't think your idea of showing people out is the same as mine."

He laughed to cover up how nervous my answer made him while Daryl snorted. "We thought of doin' the same thing in the beginning."

He was talking about Randall. The dilemma of what to do with the young man was our first real "test" as a group. It was an issue that fundamentally divided us. Did we kill someone who might potentially be a threat, or set them loose and hope it didn't bite us in the ass? In the end, it hadn't mattered. Shane took the decision out of our hands.

"It's never easy, is it?" That sounded rhetorical so I said nothing. "So me, Aiden, and Nicholas, drove them out, gave them a day's worth of food and water, and left them."

Aaron, Aiden and Nicholas, what could possibly go wrong?

"They just went?" What Aaron was describing was difficult for Daryl to comprehend. If anyone tried to do that to him they'd end up with an arrow or two in undesirable locations.

"We had their guns."

I clamped my lips together to keep from saying anything. They had our guns also, or at least most of them. Not that it would change the tide if we decided to oust them, but still. It was a form of control, and I hated being controlled.

"We had all their guns. I can't make that kind of mistake again," he admitted, voice tinged with regret.

"Stop," I ordered, squatting down near a tree. Both men complied instantly, but Daryl scooted forward, eyes alert.

"Whatcha see Red?"

"Clifford." I pointed at the clearing ahead of us, or more specifically at the man wearing a bright red poncho. Daryl stared in stunned silence. "Are you experiencing poncho envy honey?"

He shot me the finger, making me chuckle, while Aaron immediately went into NBC correspondent mode, pulling out the camera and microphone. The man strolled through the field, alert, but in no hurry to get anywhere if his pace was any indication.

"Binoculars," Daryl requested, and I turned, allowing him access to my pack.

"What's he doing?"

The man rubbed his hands together rapidly before wiping his face. I smiled, he may have poor camouflage skills, but he had above average survival skills.

"Wild leeks." Daryl's tone held a hint of respect. "Son of a bitch knows about how to keep mosquitos off of him."

"Leeks?"

"Better than the alternative," I answered, trying to conceal my smile.

"What alternative?"

I glanced at Aaron, grimacing. "Animal feces."

"Feces as in…?" I nodded grimly, ignoring Daryl's chastising look. Messing with Aaron was too much fun to pass up. "I think I'll take the mosquitoes."

"Amen."

My husband sighed, shaking his head. "Come on."

He led us into the field, making sure to stay a good distance away from the man. We didn't need to stay close. His florescent poncho and heavy footsteps should have made him easy to follow, but one second he was 200 yards ahead of us and the next he wasn't. I halted, turning in a complete circle looking for the familiar clothing, and saw nothing but the muted browns of the forest.

"Where'd he go?"

Daryl and I split up, jogging ahead, searching for any sign of his trail. His distinctive footprints stopped abruptly, but it was the four or five sets surrounding the area that were cause for alarm. The vegetation in the area was disturbed, and the tracks led in multiple directions.

"Little dust up." I nodded in agreement, scanning the woods. "Ain't no way to know which way they took him."

"Someone took him?" Aaron asked, reaching for his weapon. If I had to guess it was The Wolves. The obviously operated in this area, and they weren't subtle. "What do we do?"

"Gimme the map." Aaron handed it over, and I took a moment to orientate myself. "OK, there's a town about three miles northeast. Not much, but it will give us a landmark. Katniss, take Aaron and head east," I pointed in the direction with the heaviest foot traffic. "I'll go west for a few miles, and then circle back and meet you in town."

I expected Daryl to flat out say no, or at the very least argue, but he shocked me when he nodded in agreement. By his demeanor he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, but we were out here to recruit. We couldn't give up on Clifford, especially if he was in the hands of The Wolves. Sending Aaron anywhere alone simply wasn't an option, and I could cover more distance in a faster period of time by myself. Daryl waked over, stopping directly in front of me, face worried. I smiled, trying to put him at ease, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"One hour."

"I'll be there with bells on. Just make sure you're there Neytiri."

He cupped the side of my face, lips pressed into a hard line. "Don't take no chances."

"I never do." He scowled, pulling me closer. "Take care of Aaron."

I wanted to say more, but didn't have the words or the time. It seemed we were destined to always be saying goodbye to each other. I told myself he would be OK the same way he told himself I would be OK. It was the only way for us to do what needed to be done.

"I'll see ya again Red."

He closed the distance between us, kissing me until my toes curled. I yielded to his direction, literal putty in his hands. It was over far too soon in my estimation, but if it was up to me I'd spend the rest of my life kissing Daryl Dixon. He pulled back, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, giving me a wolfish grin that made me swoon.

"This side or the other Legolas."

He took a measured breath, and then turned on his heel, stalking off without a backwards glance. Aaron stood there dumbfounded, unsure what to do, and I laughed.

"He won't wait." Aaron snapped his mouth closed, adjusting his backpack as he got ready to run. "Hey Aaron." He stopped, turning to face me. "He's everything to me so keep him safe, OK? If anything happen…don't let him sacrifice himself, not for anything."

"I won't."

I bit my lip, staring directly in his eyes. "Promise me."

He squared his shoulders, meeting my hard gaze with one of his own. "I promise Alex."

"Thank you."

I followed a set of tracks for about a mile, but the longer I followed them the more I was convinced they weren't Clifford's. For starters, the tracks were the wrong size. Whoever made them was much shorter and lighter than him. Second, they weren't dragging anyone with them. There was no indication of a struggle, just two sets of tracks side-by-side continuing further and further away from town. Clifford wouldn't go with The Wolves, not willingly, so there should be evidence of his resistance.

Frustrated I changed direction. I didn't want to give up on him, but following two sets of tracks that probably belonged to The Wolves was a fool's errand. My walk morphed into a slight jog. We'd been gone from Alexandria for almost two days now, and we were easily 60 miles away. If I found the guys and we headed back immediately we'd be lucky to make it by nightfall.

It wasn't unusual for recruiting runs to span several days, but leaving the group made me anxious. We weren't exactly the most pro-social people to ever stroll through the gates. A lot could pop off in 48 hours, especially with Officer Friendly, Captain Hook, and a Pyromaniac housewife behind the wheel.

I could just see the outline of a warehouse in the distance when I felt it. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and a slight shiver racing down my spine alerting me to the danger lurking nearby. In the blink of an eye I rounded on the intruder, PPQ raised, finger wrapped around the trigger. The man swung a long, thin, staff with brutal efficiency, connecting with my hand, and sending my weapon skirting into the grass. I dropped down, pivoting on my heel and swinging my left leg out, connecting with his ankle. He stumbled, falling onto his back with an "ompf".

I popped back to my feet, drawing a knife and taking up a fighting stance. The man wasted no time recovering, executing a perfect kip-up. He dropped into his own stance, swinging the staff around his head before tucking it under his arm.

Flashy.

I raised my eyebrows slightly, and he smirked. Clearly this guy had some skills, but I wasn't your ordinary survivor with a few self-defense classes under her belt.

I didn't have to wait too long for the good stuff as he lunged at me, one end of his staff aimed directly at my stomach. I side-stepped the move, grabbing the end of the staff with my left hand while grabbing his staff in-between his hands. Instead of trying to put distance between us I pulled him to me, the move surprising him. When I twisted the staff it threw him off balance. He was forced to release the staff with his right hand or risk dislocating his shoulder. With his weight tipping to one side it wasn't difficult to push him to the ground, taking control of the staff he'd been trying to pummel me with. He didn't give up. In fact, he was undeterred by losing the upper hand, using his momentum to roll on his shoulder and back to his feet, ready for round two.

A flurry of papers and supplies spilled out of his open pack, the wind blowing them across the road. He didn't look as confident now that I had his staff, and I grinned, twirling the staff just like he did only moments earlier.

"Wanna try again?" I asked, tossing him the staff. He caught it, an incredulous look on his face.

"Who are you?"

"Better question, why did you attack me with a stick when you have a handgun stuffed in your pants?"

His hand shifted to his back, and he swallowed hard. "I don't wish to kill you."

"Really? You have a funny way of showing it."

"You surprised me with your quickness, and I reacted. I apologize for my haste."

He bowed slightly, and scratched my head. He reminded me of someone, or more accurately, two someone's. This guy could be Billy Ray Cyrus and Gabby's love child. The way he spoke, his word selection, inflection, southern drawl, even his cadence was a dead match to the fake scientist and disgruntled priest.

The wind blew a map to my feet, and I bent down, picking up the crumpled paper. My mouth went dry when I saw the messy scrawl written across the Atlantic Ocean.

 _Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world's gonna need_ _Rick Grimes_ _._

I pulled my backup piece from the waistband of my jeans, pointing it at the man. I was officially done messing around.

He froze, slowly putting his staff on the ground, and raising both hands obediently. I took my time examining him, searching my mind for any recollection of him, but there was nothing. I didn't know him, had never seen him before today, and yet, he had Abraham's map. Was he following us? If so, why?

"Who are you?"

He cocked his head to the side, studying me. "I'm a traveler who's lost his way."

"You didn't answer my question."

He smiled. "My name is Morgan. I'm looking for my friend."

It _couldn't_ be.

"What's your friend's name?"

I knew what he was going to say before he said it, but hearing it was a shock all the same.

"Officer Rick Grimes."

I dropped my arm to my side in stunned disbelief. "Holy shit." He also lowered his hands, a small smile on his haggard face. "You're Rick's walkie-talkie pen pal? The one he met in the beginning?"

He chuckled at the description. "I am."

"Holy shit."

"I believe you said that already." His smile was kind, but I saw the suffering swirling in the depths of his dark eyes. The world had not been kind to him. "I take it you know him?"

 _Know him? Know him?_

We'd been part of the same group for close to two years. We'd fought together, suffered together, survived together. He was family. He was my brother. I'd kill for him, and I'd die to protect him.

"Maybe."

"I understand your caution." I sincerely doubted that. "If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction I would be in your debt."

"Do you always talk like your reading from a fortune cookie?" He shrugged, a slight grin tugging at his lips. "Listen Mr. Miyagi, I need to find my people. Come with me and then we'll talk about hooking you up with your long, lost pen pal. Deal?"

"I agree to your terms," he said, bowing.

"Well…swell."

We walked down the street towards town, and I tried to think of something to fill the awkward silence. Well, maybe I was the only one who found it awkward. Morgan looked content, if not relaxed, as he strolled next to me.

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I've been alone for some time."

No shit.

"I'm not uncomfortable." I was anxious, there was a difference.

"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

I rubbed my temples. It was bad enough dealing with Billy Ray Cyrus' 1800's lexicon. Throwing Mr. Miyagi into the mix was going to test the limits of my patience.

"Alex."

"Pleasure." He inclined his head, and I waved because I was an idiot. "Do you mind me asking where you learned Krav Maga?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you learn Aikido?"

"From a friend."

That was a non-answer if I'd ever heard it. "Same."

He laughed, "I'm sorry for attacking you. I've been on edge since a particularly troublesome encounter this morning involving men who've taken to branding themselves."

I stopped in the middle of the road, facing him. "Did they carve a W in their forehead?" He also stopped, eyebrows furrowed as he nodded. "The Wolves."

"Yes, I believe that's what they called themselves."

"Tell me you killed them."

His eyes bulged. "No, absolutely not."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I have taken a vow."

I rubbed a frustrated hand down my face. "Of course you have." He remained silent, and I put a hand on my hip. "Lemme guess, your vow goes something like _no snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible_?"

My voice was dripping with sarcasm he either didn't pick up, or ignored.

"Everything gets returned."

Oh my god.

I rolled my eyes, walking away while wagging a finger above my head in disagreement. "Not gift cards. You can't return those puppies."

He fell into step beside me, lips pursed in concentration. I hoped we could make the rest of the journey in silence, and thankfully we did, but it wasn't without effort on both our parts. I could practically feel his need to quote a fortune cookie, and by contrast I had a retort locked, loaded, and ready to shoot across his bow. He didn't give me the chance which was probably a good thing. Nothing brought out my homicidal tendencies like a pacifist.

"Do you hear that?" I asked, putting up a hand. Morgan stopped, cocking his head to the side, listening.

"It sounds like…"

I didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. I already knew what it was, walkers, lots and lots of walkers. I sprinted forward, skidding to a stop outside a fence, eyes wide, dread flooding my system.

It was a food distribution center, or at least it was at one time. There were six white trailers lined up at a loading dock with pictures of canned fruits, vegetables, and beans on the side. The facility was flooded with walkers. I couldn't count how many there were, and frankly I didn't want to. The bulk of them were surrounding something, pounding on it, and I moved left and right until I caught a glimpse of the compact car. The way the dead were salivating and clawing at the car, Daryl and Aaron had to be inside.

I knelt down, frantically searching through my pack until I found what I needed. When I stood up Morgan was looking at the grisly scene with a grim face.

"Open the gate." His head twisted to the side, and it was obvious by the look on his face he thought I was joking. "You're the one who said everything gets returned. It's time to put up or shut up Mr. Miyagi."

"There's too many."

"Death is only the beginning," I countered, cinching down my pack.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Fine, how about this, that's my husband and friend in there. You're going to help me or I'm going to kill you!"

He calmly rolled both option around in his head while stood beside him, vibrating with tension. The entire exchange took no more than 30 seconds, but it was 30 seconds Daryl and Aaron were trapped in a car where the windows could break at any moment.

"I'll help you."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."

He ignored me, swinging the gate open. I ran in immediately, peeling off to the right. Morgan followed, albeit less enthusiastically.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Yeah, it's called making shit happen."

I lit the string of Black Cats, and tossed them to my right. Morgan's eyes went wide and he smiled, giving me a nod as we both darted back to our left. A second later the string ignited, a series of loud _**POP**_ _**POP POP's**_ drawing the walker's attention away from the car.

"Go!"

Morgan and I rushed forward, the majority of the walkers attracted to the far side of the facility by the fireworks. I fired my PPQ, blowing the head off a walker in front of me then I dropped two more in rapid succession. My heart thumped in my chest, my need to make sure Daryl was alright overriding common sense. I whirled around, ducking under the arms of a walker and coming up behind her only to sink my knife in her head. Before her body even hit the ground I fired my gun, killing another.

I fought my way to the vehicle, shooting a walker point blank in the face. His brain splattered across the car, but I barely noticed. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, ignoring the gore coating my hand, tossing his body aside. The driver's side door exploded open and Daryl scrambled out. He faltered when he saw me, shock, surprise, and relief flashing across his face.

"Hey Katniss." He winked at me, and I grinned. Two walkers were trying to sneak up behind him and I fired two rounds, rolling my eyes when he flinched at the sound. I lunged forward, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him further away from the car. "We gotta go."

I saw Morgan twirling his staff, clearing a path for himself and Aaron. He looked scared, but unharmed. Thank god. If anything happened to him Eric would never give me another blueberry scone. The four of us ran passed the gate, Aaron locking it behind us. The walkers pushed against the fence, growling and snarling, but it held, for now.

"That was…" Aaron was so out of breath he couldn't talk. "Oh man…" More panting. "Thank you…"

I ignored him, moving Daryl's jacket aside, looking for any cut or bite.

"I'm good Red."

My eyes watered as I searched, patting him down, frantic in my need to make sure he was really unharmed. He shouldered his crossbow, both hands encircling my wrist, forcing me to stop.

"Hey, look at me."

My lips trembled as I looked him in the eye. He flashed me his signature half-smile, half-smirk, pulling me in for a hug. I sagged against him, burying my head in the crook of his neck.

"I told you those fireworks would come in handy," I whispered. He chuckled, pulling back so he could brush a tender kiss across my lips.

"I'm Aaron, this is Daryl, and apparently you know Alex."

I kept my eyes on Daryl, moving the stubborn hair out of his eyes. "That's Mr. Miyagi. He likes to talk in riddles."

Our new companion laughed, "My name is Morgan."

Daryl slid his hand into mine, finally facing the stranger. "Why?" Morgan frowned, not understanding the question. "I know why Red did it, but ya don't know us. We ain't nothin' to ya, so why?"

"Because all life is precious Daryl."

"But you can't return gift cards." Aaron and Daryl turned to look at me, and I shrugged. "He started it."

"Plus, your wife is very persuasive," he added, smiling at our inside joke. I wondered if now was a bad time to tell him I wasn't kidding about killing him?

Aaron turned his attention back to the walkers. "Whoever set that trap, they're coming. We have a community not too…"

"Let me stop you there." Aaron's mouth snapped shut, eyes flicking to me. "Show them the map."

Daryl squeezed my hand, taking a slight step forward so his body partially shielded mine. Did he think Morgan was going to kill us with a map? I'd been alone with the man for a while now, and the only one in danger during that time was him.

Morgan dug through his pack, pulling out the familiar, crumpled map, and handing it to Daryl. He snatched the map out of the stranger's hand, damn near crushing the tiny bones in my fingers when he read Abraham's message written on it. Aaron took a step closer, reading over his shoulder.

"Who are you?" Aaron questioned.

"Do you remember Rick's walkie talkie pen pal from Atlanta?" I hadn't been a part of the group then, but Rick told me the story of the man who saved his life. The man he desperately tried to leave a trail for, but eventually gave up on. "Well…this is him."

"That's unbelievable," Aaron mumbled.

"Yes, it's a real miracle, but we need to go, now," I added, checking our surroundings. Aaron said this was a set-up. It didn't take a genius to guess who was behind that. "We can gush over the improbability on the way back."

"So you'll take me, to Rick?" Morgan asked.

Aaron bit his lip, deferring to us. Daryl bit his thumbnail, deferring to me. I rolled my eyes. Men.

"We'll take you back, but I'm going to sit behind you with a gun pressed against the seat. If you so much as twitch in a way I don't like I'm going to redecorate the windshield with your brain. Deal?"

Morgan flashed me a beaming smile. "To be sure you hit your target, shoot first and call whatever you hit your target."

I groaned, walking passed him and dragging Daryl with me. It was going to be a long trip home. If he quoted fortune cookies the entire time I might shoot him just to shut him up.

"Wait, is that a yes or…?" Aaron asked, throwing his hands in the air when no one answered.

* * *

 **Morgan's back and things with The Wolves are escalating. What do you guys think? They have no idea what's waiting for them back in Alexandria.**

 **Cue suspenseful music.**


	58. Bad Moon Rising

**Bad Moon Rising**

Thankfully Morgan kept the fortune cookie wisdom to a minimum. At least I think he did. When it became obvious he wasn't going to try and murder us I fell asleep in the backseat. Hopefully Aaron didn't tell Eric I'd left him unprotected. I could live with a lot of things, but no blueberry scones wasn't one of them.

It was the dead of night by the time we got back to Alexandria. The minute we rolled to a stop outside the gate I knew something was wrong. Not only was there no guard at the gate, but there wasn't a soul in sight. No one in the clock tower, no one on the guard tower, no one _anywhere_. I was forced to scale the fence, unlocking the gate from the inside to let us in. It was creepier once we were inside. Admittedly it was late, but there were always a few night owls roaming the streets or sitting on their porch. There was none of that tonight.

"Where is everyone?" I asked Aaron who looked surprised at the state of the community.

"I don't know…" He trailed off, turning in a slow circle, scratching his head. "Maybe they're having a meeting? We do that sometimes."

The way he said "sometimes" sounded more like never.

"Where?" Daryl questioned.

"Middle of town."

The mild alarm I experienced when we found the gate unguarded was multiplied exponentially as we made our way through town. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty, our group was at the center of it. Whatever " _it"_ was. It wasn't difficult to imagine things unexpectedly turning sour. Since arriving we'd lied, stolen, and had plans to unleash a violent coupe if necessary. Any or all those things could have reared their ugly head, biting us in the ass.

Sometimes it sucked being right all the time.

I really wanted to be surprised by what we found at the meeting. I wasn't. We rounded the side of a small, brick wall to find Ariel pinning a man on the ground, his bear paw threatening to crush the man's tiny skull. I'd give the guy credit, even facing a crushed cranium he continued to thrash and struggle even though it accomplished absolutely nothing. That was the good news. Things went decidedly downhill after that.

Deanna's husband, Reg, was lying in her arms with his throat slit. There was blood covering the ground all around them. She was crying, begging for Reg to stay with her even though he was clearly already dead. She either didn't notice or didn't care, pressing her tiny hand against the ghastly, fatal wound on his neck.

Standing in the center of the mayhem was Rick. He was covered in blood, face cut like he'd high-fived a window. None of that made my skin prickle with unease. It was the crazed look in his eye, and the weapon in his hand that made me grind my teeth, readying myself for a fight.

"Rick, do it," Deanna ordered, eyes focused on her husband's body.

He didn't hesitate. Ariel released the man he was holding, Jesse's husband, just before Rick fired a single shot directly in his head. Everyone flinched at the sound, a few crying, or crying harder than they already were. The only people who looked unfazed by the morbid turn of events were our people.

"Rick?"

I forgot about Morgan until he spoke. He looked stunned, and more than a little horrified. Not that I blamed him. This wasn't exactly putting your best foot forward. I didn't know Rick Grimes in the beginning, but it was a safe bet whoever he was it was a far cry from the erratic, bloodied man who'd just executed someone.

"Morgan?" Rick sounded just as shocked though for an entirely different reason. "How?"

"Maybe we should talk about it later," Aaron suggested, eyes darting around warily.

Rick frowned, looking around like he was seeing the gruesome scene for the first time. He licked his lips, shaking his head in agreement. Whatever was going on Morgan didn't need to witness it. We'd brought him back to be a part of the community, but judging by this little display he might decline.

"Take him to the holding cell," he ordered, looking apologetically at his long, lost friend. "I'm sorry, but we don't take chances anymore."

Morgan accepted the confinement far better than I would have; allowing Aaron to led him away without further comment. Rick walked over, appraising Daryl and I carefully, raising a singular eyebrow in that creepy cop way of his.

"Alright, what'd we miss?" I asked.

There would be plenty of time to explain The Wolves later. Compared to what we'd walked in on our trip seemed tame by comparison.

"Things got out of hand with Pete so Deanna called a meeting. She was considering kicking me out."

I glanced over his shoulder. It didn't escape my attention he glossed over the part about Pete. He was downplaying the severity of the situation. Pete's abusive tendencies were the worst kept secret in Alexandria. It didn't take a detective to imagine what happened between him and Officer Friendly.

I licked my lips, eyeing Deanna. If _"things getting out of hand"_ prompted this meeting lord knew what the Congresswoman would do now. Although, judging by her current state she was liable to do nothing at all. She hadn't moved, still holding her dead husband in her arms, tears streaming down her wrinkled face.

"Someone's got to deal with that." I gestured to Deanna. Her husband may be dead, but he could reanimate any second.

Rick nodded, turning on his heel. "Abraham."

He nodded his chin at Reg, and the hulking red-head gave him a curt nod in return. In two lumbering strides he was in front of the grieving widow. Carol and Deadpool did their best to coax the woman away from the body though she hardly put up much of a fight. The women deposited her in a chair close to the fire making sure to keep her back to her husband. When she was seated away from the body Ariel quickly stabbed her husband, ending his life for a second time.

"You need to tell her."

I frowned at Rick, shaking my head. "Do you really think now's the time?"

These people were hanging on by a thread. I wasn't sure they could take any more tonight, but Rick was insistent. He wanted to make a point, ensure they understood what they were facing. Tonight would mark the end to their way of life in more ways than one.

"We're done hiding, and they're done being lucky. They're gonna adapt, or they're gonna die."

Daryl bit his nail next to me, shrugging his shoulders a second later. "Ain't gonna matter when ya tell 'em Red. They ain't gonna wanna hear it. Might as well be now."

I sighed, following Rick as he walked to the center of the circle. He looked at the Alexandrian's, no pity or sympathy on his face, only loathing. These people had enjoyed the safety and security we'd been denied, and it wasn't due to skill or work. It was pure luck. If things continued the way they were going this place would cease to exist, one way or another.

"I'm sorry how things played out tonight. I truly am."

Rick paused, looking around. Deadpool stood next to Deanna, arms folded across her chest, perma-scowl plastered on her face, but I saw the subtle head nod she offered him. Carol stood on the other side of Deanna, wearing another heinous sweater that threatened to make my eyes bleed, but her eyes were sharp. She was ready to pounce if anyone decided this new direction wasn't for them. Maggie stood with her chin held high, an air of authority rolling off her that didn't surprise me in the least. She was a born leader, and I saw more than a few community members watching her, taking their cues from her with Deanna out of commission. Ariel casually wiped his knife on his shirt, keeping the blade out and ready. He was a giant red-headed deterrent to anyone who had a mind to voice opposition. Merle was positioned in front of an exit, his posture deceptively casually. He made a point of fiddling with his knife stub, and I smothered a smile when two men shifted away from him.

"You've been lucky up until now, but luck will only carry you so far. You have to change. This place, has to change. It's the only way we can survive."

"Why should we listen to you? You killed Pete! You got Reg killed! This is your fault!" a man standing on the opposite side of the fire yelled.

"Nothing like this ever happened until your group came along!" a woman added, "This place is safe! We're safe! We have guards, fences, nothing can get through if we don't let it!"

I snorted, drawing everyone's attention. Some just looked scared, but a select few looked like they were itching for a fight. Daryl stiffened beside me, his hands tightening on his crossbow. Merle pushed off the wall, and strolled over, stopping on my other side, tucking a thumb into the waistband of his jeans. I could imagine what it looked like, the three of us standing shoulder to shoulder, identical deadly glares on our faces. A few brave souls might have tried taking on one of us, but all three, no way in hell.

"Tell them Alex," Rick commanded.

I hesitated, biting my lip. This wouldn't be easy to say, and it definitely wouldn't be easy to hear. I knew Rick was right, they needed to hear this. They were living in a fantasy land, and that was a problem. Not that I particularly cared if they lived or died, but I might be standing near them when shit kicked off. I'd done them a disservice by keeping their lack of readiness to myself.

"She's crazy!" a woman accused, "She's a murderer!"

"She's just some washed up singer! What the hell does she know?!"

While I wasn't a washed up singer, I _was_ crazy, and I _was_ a murderer. It didn't appear the townsfolk cared for my assessment of this death trap, but Deanna surprised me when her eyes found mine. Tears still streaked down her face, but she squared her shoulders, facing the dissenters. It wasn't hard to imagine her as a Congresswoman in that moment. She commanded everyone's attention despite her grief, and the screaming instantly died down.

"This place…" Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "It isn't what we thought. Rick's right, we need to be ready." She turned her sorrowful gaze on me. "Please Alex, tell me what you know."

Oh boy.

Maybe I could deliver the news with some tact, lessen the impact of the brutal truth. I took a deep breath, quickly glancing at Daryl who nodded encouragingly.

"I've walked every square inch of this place. You think this place is safe because it's surrounded by walls and there's a lock on the gate. Well, walls can be scaled, and locks can be picked." I licked my lips, eyeing the crowd briefly before my eyes slid to Deanna. "You want the truth?"

She didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Here goes nothing.

"The guards on the front gate are worthless, the perimeter's soft, and this whole compound is a goddamn snipers paradise." Her eyes got wider and wider until they appeared to take up half her small face. If she didn't like that she was going to hate the ending. "I hate to break it to you, but if any big element gets in here, living or dead…we're all gonna fucking die."

Rick sighed, shaking his head slightly and I shrugged. Clearly I had no tact, but I did have a healthy dose of bitchcraft, the art of pissing people off by telling them the truth.

"Well…that's heart-warming," Deanna's son, Spencer, muttered.

"No offense," I added, hands raised.

Deanna blinked at me. I couldn't tell if she was shocked at my assessment, or just shocked in general. Her son put his arm around her, pulling her close before turning his attention to me.

"Let's cut the bullshit shall we?" I smirked, nodding in agreement. "You weren't really a singer before all this, were you?"

He said it like a question, but he already knew the answer. Everyone did.

"I won a karaoke competition one time during spring break. Does that count?"

Merle chuckled while Daryl blew out a heavy breath, finally relaxing. I winked at Ariel who smirked before pulling a small bottle of liquor out of his jacket, taking a healthy swig. He was still drinking which meant Tara was still unconscious. He had a fondness for the young woman, and seeing her brought back broken and bleeding was hard for him. He was also struggling to find a reason to keep living which drove him deeper into the bottle. I couldn't help him with that. No one could. We all had to find our way through that particular gauntlet on our own.

The meeting broke up shortly after that. I was glad. It'd been a long two days. I was ready for some food, a shower, and sleep, in no particular order. Daryl suggested we check on Morgan so we walked to the house serving as a holding cell. I didn't bother knocking, swinging the door open and strolling inside. Not that Morgan noticed. He was sitting in the barren living room, legs crossed, eyes closed.

"What's he doin'?" Daryl asked.

"Meditating," I answered, walking by the unresponsive man into the kitchen. I rooted through the pantry, taking out a few cans and bowls. "You want ABCs and 123s or chili?"

"Chili," my other half answered automatically. "I don't know how you eat that shit Red."

"ABCs and 123s sounds good to me."

Morgan's startled Daryl who whirled around, arrow aimed at his head. I didn't even look up, concentrating on getting the can opener to cooperate.

"No ABCs and 123s for you Mr. Miyagi."

Daryl lowered his weapon, stepping aside and letting Morgan into the kitchen. He sure was jumpy. I suppose almost getting almost eaten by a herd of walkers was enough to make anyone hyper-sensitive, even unflappable rednecks.

"Why not?"

Morgan didn't sound disappointed or annoyed, just curious. He was a disciplined man. Aikido demanded a level of self-control I'd never found appealing though it was obvious he found comfort in the restraint.

"Because I don't like you enough…yet." My eyes flicked to him, a small grin on my face. He smiled back. "You get to share gross chili with Katniss."

"Fair enough," he conceded, sitting down at the kitchen island.

"Yur a pain in my ass," Daryl mumbled, snatching the bowl out of my hand.

"I love you too sweetheart."

Daryl plopped down on a stool opposite Morgan while I settled for sitting on top of the granite countertop, eating ABCs and 123s straight from the can. Why dirty a bowl Morgan would just have to wash later?

The front door opened, Rick's high heels clicking on the hardwood floors. I slid off the counter, leaning over and kissing Daryl quickly on the cheek. He raised his eyebrows in questions.

"I'm gonna go check on Tara."

He put a finger in his mouth, licking some chili sauce off his fingers. "I'll meet ya at the house."

Rick stopped me in the living room, giving me the once over now that we were alone. "Ya good?"

"Gotta be." I turned his head left and right, wincing slightly at the numerous cuts. Based on the state of his face it was me who should be asking that. "What about you?"

He squeezed my hand, pulling it away from his battered face. "Gotta be."

Lie. I let it go because there was nothing I could do about it, especially not in mixed company.

It only took me a few minutes to get to the infirmary. I was expecting to find Apocalypse Barbie working, Billy Ray Cyrus sleeping, and Tara still unconscious, but was pleasantly surprised by the latter. Tara was awake, sitting propped up on a few pillows. She looked a little pale, and weak, but she was awake and that was a start.

"You look like shit," I told her, smiling as I flopped into a seat next to the fake scientist. "You too Billy Ray Cyrus."

"That is offense and hurtful," he deadpanned. I nudged him with my elbow, wagging my eyebrows at him, urging him to play along. I could tell he was thinking of a comeback, and waited patiently. "You also look like animal excrement."

Tara hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. I threw my head back, laughing harder than I had in a long time.

"Oh man, I needed that," Tara admitted, wiping tears from her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Like I got my head split open." I shrugged. Well, she had so… "I'll be alright."

"Glenn was in here a few minutes ago." I was out of my chair so fast it tipped over. Apocalypse Barbie put her hands up, trying to calm me down. "He's fine. Maggie took him home."

"If he's fine, why was he here?"

She sighed, "He and Nicholas got jumped in the woods by some walkers."

What were they doing outside the walls, together? That sounded all kinds of wrong.

"Your facial expression suggests you do not believe he is telling the truth about what occurred."

Billy Ray Cyrus was right. I wasn't buying that bullshit. Glenn wouldn't willingly go anywhere with Nicholas, not after what happened. I gave Tara a quick hug, promising to visit her tomorrow then made my way back to the house.

I wanted to talk to Glenn, know what really happened, make sure he was OK, but when I got home my heart sank. All the lights in the house were off, and Glenn and Maggie's bedroom door was closed. I stood in the hall, hand poised to knock, but hesitated when I heard their hushed whispers. Alone time with your significant other was a luxury. I wouldn't want anyone knocking on my door on the rare occasion I got to be alone with Daryl. I let my hand fall, turning and walking to the basement.

I showered as quickly as possible, climbing into bed and staring at the ceiling. I meant to wait up for Daryl, but one second I was listing all the reasons I hated our comforter and the next I was asleep. I felt the bed dip down sometime later, a large, warm body curling around mine from behind. He draped his heavy arm over my hip, pulling me flush against his body, and I stirred.

"Daryl…" I slurred voice thick with sleep.

"Shhh, go to sleep Red."

Unfortunately the next day wasn't much better than the one that preceded it. It was early afternoon, and I was sitting beside Daryl on a window seat, biting my lip. I listened to Rick explain in horrifying detail what he and Morgan found while out burying Pete, walkers, tens of thousands of walkers. I felt dread building in my stomach thinking about the danger. This explained how the community had survived so long, and why they'd never encountered any sizeable herds. They were all trapped in a quarry a few miles from here.

"We've done it before. It'll work," Rick insisted despite the group's apprehension.

He was talking about Senoia. Rick's plan was draw the herd away, and lead them West in a controlled manner, controlled being the operative word. It was exactly what we'd done in Senoia save one minor detail, the sheer number of walkers.

Could it work? Sure.

Was it dangerous? Without a fucking doubt.

"I don't understand, how did they get there?" Carter questioned. He was afraid. He should be. This was about as bad as it got.

"My team, we saw it early on, back when we were on one of our first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one of those…trucks back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it. They were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

I felt my hackles rise listening to Heath. He'd been out on a run when we arrived at Alexandria, and had just come back this morning according to Billy Ray. Deanna swore he was competent, so did his "team", but so far I'd heard nothing that screamed competent.

"And you didn't think it was important to mention there was a herd of walker's living around the corner?"

"Easy Red," Daryl muttered, placing a hand on my thigh.

"There wasn't a herd then…it was just a few…I didn't think it would ever get like this."

I huffed in exasperation, leaning back. This was why thinking should be left to the professionals.

"No one's been back since?" Maggie asked, somehow managing to throw shade and not sound like a complete bitch. Girl had skills.

"DC, every town worth scavenging, they're all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound, and they're making more sound, and they're drawing more in," Deadpool concluded.

Rick put his hands on his hips, not bothering to sugar coat it. "And here we are." He scanned the nervous crowd. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us."

I had to give Rick credit. He'd gotten better at this. It was a little too doom and gloom for my taste, but it was better than his usual motivational speech.

"This isn't about _if_ it gives, it's _when_. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

A fake shudder rolled through Carol. "This is…I don't even have another word for it. This is terrifying." She didn't sound terrified. She sounded like she was reciting words from a dictionary. "All of it, but it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

I still didn't understand how anyone fell for her act. She was a terrible actress, truly awful. So bad I'd nominate her for a Razzie.

"Maybe there is," Carter stated, "I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg." The name of Deanna's recently deceased husband made everyone uncomfortable. "Construction crew…we can try and make it safe."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

His eyes swung to me, lips pressed in a hard line. "Not everything can be solved with a knife or a gun." Technically, Rick's plan didn't require either, not really, but he clearly wasn't done. "This puts us all at risk."

I laughed, "We're at risk right now asshole."

He took a step in my direction, but was cut off by my brother-in-law who did nothing more than shake his knife stub in his face. Carter paled, backtracking so quickly he almost tripped over the couch. Unbelievable. I was more dangerous than everyone in this room combined, but he freaks out over a one-handed redneck.

"Enough." It was the first time Deanna had spoken since the meeting began. She kept her back to the room, staring out the window. "We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out."

She spoke in a monotone voice laced with grief. I knew this was a difficult time for her personally, but these people counted on her, they trusted her judgment. If they had any hope of seeing this through she was going to have to pull herself together, publicly at least.

Rick nodded, "I told you all, we're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

"Me too," Sasha spoke up. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. Can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy."

It was the first time in a long time the woman didn't sound like she was merely waiting to die. I sincerely hoped she had her shit together because this could get ugly in a hurry. She was going to be out there with my husband. If she messed up, he died. If she tried to commit suicide, he died. If he died, she died. I'd make sure of that.

"I'll go with her." Rick studied Ariel who merely shrugged. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing." I liked how he called escorting a herd with numbers upward of 100,000 _"managing"_. "We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly." He pointed at each one. "So they're out. So who's in?

"Me." Deadpool raised her hand, giving Rick a tiny smile, or a less angry scowl.

"Sounds like a good 'ol time Officer Friendly." Merle's idea of fun and mine were drastically different.

"I'm in," I said

Rick's sighed, turning to look at me, and I could already tell I wasn't going to like what he said next.

"I need you here."

Yep, I was right, I didn't like it.

"Not a fucking chance." He didn't seem surprised at my outburst. Good, then he wouldn't be surprised by what came next. "My husband will be out there…my brother-in-law…my family."

By the time I was done Daryl was squeezing my thigh so hard I was positive it would bruise. I didn't dare look at him. If I did my resolve would crumble. He agreed with Rick, maybe not for the same reasons, but he didn't want me out there. I knew because I felt the same way about him. Thinking about him leading the herd away made me want to puke.

"I need you here, protecting Alexandria," Rick insisted, "This place will be vulnerable until we get back, and if this goes south, well…"

All the more reason for me to be out there.

"Don't ask me to do this. I can't. I won't."

His pale blue eyes burned a hole straight through me. "I need you to look after my children," his voice wobbled. The first sign he was feeling the stress of our situation. "I need you to watch over Carl and Judith."

Just like that all the fight whooshed out of me. There was nothing, and I do mean nothing, I wouldn't do for those kids.

I slumped back, defeated. "Fine, but you can't use that again for a whole month."

"I would like to help," Gabby said, voice small and uncertain.

"No." Any softness in Rick's expression vanished in an instant. His denial of Gabby's request was swift and absolute. "Who else?"

Noah and Beth both tried to volunteer, but Rick shot them down, albeit more gently than he did Gabby. I agreed with him on this one. Beth had no business being out there, and Noah was still shaken by the ill-fated run. A few Alexandrian's volunteered although by the look on their faces you'd think they were volunteering for the guillotine.

"There's got to be another play," Carter urged, getting desperate. "We can't just control that many."

Rick sighed, "I said it before, walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"So, what? We're supposed to just take your word for it?" Carter scoffed. "We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after…"

"After what?" Rick's voice was calm, but he was on a hair trigger.

I didn't realize I'd plucked a knife from my waist until I felt the cool leather of the hilt in the palm of my hand. I'd had about enough of this. I was benched, unable to participate in what was our deadliest plan to date, and this ass-clown was trying to find any excuse to not pull his weight. Daryl didn't notice the knife, eyes locked on Carter like he was a bomb about to explode. I told myself to play it cool, that there was no need for violence, but then he opened his big, fat mouth.

"After you waved a gun around! After you shot a man in the face! After you…"

Carter never got the opportunity to finish his sentence. He didn't see the knife hurtling through the air, but he heard it digging into the wall beside his head. He jumped, swallowing hard while probing his ear to see if it was still there as he leaned away from the weapon. I stood slowly, ignoring the shocked faces, making my way across the room like a predator stalking prey. I curled my hand around the hilt of my knife, pulling it out of the wall, and shoving the razor sharp tip in his face.

"You better watch your mouth sunshine," I threatened. No one got to call Rick's plans stupid but us.

Ariel barked out a laugh, easing some of the tension from the room, at least on our end. The others still looked ready to piss themselves, but I had a sneaking suspicion that was their default setting. When were they _not_ scared?

"Appreciate the support Alex, but for now, maybe it'd be best if you took a break," Rick suggested more for Carter's sake than mine.

"Sure thing."

I slipped the knife back into the sheath at my waist, giving Carter a final glare before turning on my heel and leaving. I ended up back at the house, and not a moment too soon judging by Carl's exasperated expression. He loved his little sister, but playing the role of never-ending babysitter was a lot to ask of a teenager.

"Who missed Aunt Alex?" I cooed, taking the pudgy baby from him. Carl smiled, watching his sister shove a handful of red hair in her mouth. "I was talking to you too tough guy."

He laughed, "I always miss you."

"Damn straight."

"Is it OK if I go out for a while?"

He looked nervous, embarrassed, and I grinned. "Who you going out with?"

"It's not like that," he backtracked.

"What's not like that?"

"She's just a friend."

I cocked my head to the side, propping Nugget up on my hip. "Who's just a friend?"

"Enid." Carl's blush was slowly creeping up his neck.

"She seems cool."

In reality I'd never talked to the kid, but watching Carl freak out over a girl was so…normal. It reminded me of the world before, and I couldn't let the opportunity to mess with him slip by unrealized. Things like this were what being an Aunt was all about.

"I don't like her, like her!" he shouted, voice cracking. "She's just a friend…who also happens to be a girl."

Nugget babbled incoherently, still munching on my hair. I sat down on the floor, spreading out some blocks and setting her down before she choked on a hairball.

"Your sister disagrees," I joked. Carl covered his face with his hands. "OK, OK, calm down before you pop a blood vessel." Or a boner. That would be awkward for both of us.

Carl quickly escaped the humility of trying to deny his undying love for Enid, and it was just the me and Nugget. She crawled around the floor, picking up blocks, putting them in her mouth, coating them in slobber then handing them to me and moving on. I cringed, dropping the latest block on the ground and wiping my hand on my jeans. Having a baby was like living in a frat house, things were always sticky, and you were never sure why.

The front door opened, the Dixon brothers waltzing through like redneck runway models. Nugget squealed, spitting out a block and crawling to them. I couldn't blame her. She was hardly the first girl to shriek and beg to be held by Legolas. This must be what being in a boy band was like. Daryl smiled, bending down and picking her up.

"Why's she always sticky?" he pondered, rubbing two fingers together with a furrowed brow.

"One of life's great mysteries." I stood, putting both hands on my hip and glaring at the pair. "Did you know?"

I didn't need to elaborate. They knew what I meant. My displeasure was obvious, and they froze. It was clear they were both trying to figure out how to sacrifice the other, but Merle beat Daryl to the punch.

"Oh shit, I just 'membered, I gotta do that thing," he babbled. Daryl's head snapped to the side, his head shaking wildly.

"Ya ain't got nothin' to do."

The older redneck walked backwards, fumbling with the door knob, frantically trying to get out of the house. "Yeah I do. 'Member, I told ya, about helpin' that guy?"

"Ya lyin' piece of…"

"Good luck Darlina."

Merle scampered out of the house, the sound of the door slamming shut reverberating in the empty house. Nugget's gibberish was the only other sound when Daryl finally turned around to face me. He held the baby in front of him like a shield, and I rolled my eyes.

"He talked to you about it didn't he? You knew?"

Nugget wiggled in his arms, and he put her on the ground so she could lick more blocks.

"He mentioned it this mornin'."

I exhaled harshly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ya were with Tara all mornin'. I didn't see ya till the meetin'." That was true, and it annoyed me. It was hard to be pissed at people when they made sense. "'Sides, ya ain't exactly known for takin' bad news in stride."

"Please," I scoffed, "I can take bad news in stride."

He smirked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Is that what ya were doin' with Carter? Takin' the news in stride?"

"That's different." He snorted, hugging me. "I don't like this."

"I know." He didn't sound very sympathetic to my suffering. He sounded thrilled. "I ain't gonna lie and say knowin' yur gonna be here don't make me feel better."

"Then I won't lie and pretend it isn't straight up bullshit." He released me, signature smirk on his handsome face. "Next time we have to lure the majority of the Eastern seaboard away from the community you get to stay behind and protect the home front, and I get to ride a motorcycle and look like a badass."

"Sounds fair."

Nugget shouted, clapping her chubby hands together while she bounced up-and-down with childlike excitement. She had two wooden blocks crammed in her mouth with a third inbound. I shook my head, snatching the block out of her hand then extracting the choking hazards with two fingers. She was none too pleased with the development, her shrill cries threatening to shatter the windows and my eardrums.

"Can you get over here and baby whisper?"

The second Daryl picked her up the infant quieted. It was amazing. Nugget cooed at him, resting her head on his shoulder while he bounced her lightly. He looked around the room, slowly turning in a circle.

"Why's it look like a bomb went off in here?"

I counted 25 block letters scattered around the room, and sincerely hoped the 26th wasn't currently being digested by Nugget. There was a stuffed animal with its head ripped off, piles of stuffing lying randomly around the room looking like a teddy bear crime scene. The books on the ground had the spines bent, and were dripping with an unidentified yellowish substance. There were various baby chew toys piled up on the very expensive looking recliner. I was praying the puddle beside them wasn't puke. A set of train tracks Carl built earlier was running through the middle of the mayhem. I used them earlier to re-enact a scene from Unstoppable, but Nugget disagreed they could successfully negotiate the "Devil's Curve" in Stanton. The plastic train she hurled into the kitchen was a testament to her viewpoint.

"Having a baby is like owning a blender, and not being able to find the lid."

* * *

 **I went back-and forth trying to decide where Alex would be during the groups effort to relocate the herd. Ultimately, I thought being at Alexandria was the best option. Her separation from Daryl, the herd breaking loose unexpectedly, The Wolves, it all just lent itself to her staying put.**

 **The next few chapters are packed full of action and suspense...at least I hope so. Excited?**


	59. Luck Favors the Prepared

**Luck Favors the Prepared**

It may have been fall teetering on the verge of winter, but when you spent from sunup till sundown engaged in manual labor it was still hot. Sweat dripped down my face, beads of salty tears I could taste on my lips. I felt it trickling down my back, free flowing like condensation on a window pane, making my tank top stick to my skin uncomfortably. The longer we were out here the less bearable the conditions became. Really I shouldn't be complaining. The heat in Virginia was nothing compared to Georgia, and soon enough it would be so cold we'd wish for heat stroke, but complaining made the time go faster.

I watched Daryl roll a wheelbarrow over to Rick, and sighed dreamily. He had to be just as hot as I was, but you wouldn't know it. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed the affects of the heat, or our never-ending to do list in preparations to move the herd. We'd been working since sunrise, but he showed no signs of fatigue. He kept his head down, working diligently, oblivious to the stares of the female population. Not that I blamed them. If our day was half as nice as his ass I'd be a happy camper.

I liked my lips as I watched him unloading sandbags. The sheen of sweat coating his arms made them glistening in the afternoon sun, and was almost pornographic. The way it highlighted the contours of his defined muscles reminded what a powerhouse he was, and made my heart gallop in my chest. His body was built to perform at peak physical condition, and boy did it show. Maybe I would pass the time fantasizing about my husband instead of grumbling about the weather.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from my smokin' hot significant other when Deadpool dumped a shovel of sand on my arms. Not the open sandbag, not the ground, my arms. My head snapped up, mouth opened to rip her a new one, but I stopped when I saw her thunderous scowl. I'd incorrectly assumed she'd done it on purpose because I was planning tonight's marital congress instead of concentrating on work. I was wrong. She wasn't focused on me. In fact, she wasn't focused on work _at all_.

Shaking my head I dropped the bag to the ground, standing and wiping sand that was reluctant to leave my arms due to perspiration. Even that didn't draw my friend's attention away from the silent exchange currently taking place between Rick and Jesse. I reached out, prying the shovel from her hands before she decided to use it as a weapon, but still her eyes never strayed from the pair who were oblivious to her interloping.

This had to stop. When guys got jealous it could be cute, kind of, if you were into that sort of bullshit. When girls got jealous it was liable to start WWIII. We had a pretty full schedule the next couple of weeks. I didn't have time to help Deadpool hide Jesse's body.

"Jealousy does not look good on you my friend."

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to me, face deadly. "I'm not jealous."

I shook my head in fake agreement, fishing one of Daryl's old shirt sleeves out of my back pocket and offering to her. "Here, you have a little bullshit right there."

I pointed at her face, and she slapped my hand away. She snatched the shovel back with a huff that made me smile. I knelt down, picking up the sandbag and holding it open so she could shovel dirt in. Until now I didn't know it was possible to shovel dirt angrily, but Deadpool was doing it.

"I'm not jealous." She continued to scoop dirt into the full bag. She didn't stop. Not even when the bag was overflowing. I didn't say anything because I didn't want a shovel to the forehead. _"I'm not."_

I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.

"How long are you two going to dance around this?" Daryl always said I was suicidal. Judging by the way she was looking at me right now I had to agree he had a point. "Come on, it's me you're talking to. You guys have been eye fucking each other since the prison."

She scowled, and several of the Alexandrian's working near us decided it was safer to relocate.

"We haven't been doing anything," she disagreed, back to shoveling dirt. Was that disappointment I heard in her voice?

"That's the problem." She picked up the shovel, and I took a step back, hands raised. "Jesus Christ, calm down." She lowered the shovel, albeit a little too reluctantly for my taste. "The first day we met you were drooling over _'his vibe_ '."

It was a minor miracle I didn't vomit. I was all for helping a sister out, but talking about a man I considered a brother in "that way" made my temperamental third eye twitch.

"If you really didn't care you wouldn't be contemplating pulling a Cabin Fever." She frowned, eyeing the shovel briefly before tossing it to the ground like it was scalding. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"No."

"I think you need to man up and do something."

She hefted a sandbag up, tossing it into the wheelbarrow. "We're just friends."

I threw my head back, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. That was hilarious. Friends didn't undress each other mentally. Friends didn't cause so much sexual tension to build in a room it was difficult to breathe. And friends most certainly _did not_ stare at each other's asses all day.

"Is that what you guys felt like with me and Legolas?" It took me a while to get the questions out I was laughing so hard. "Cause if so, I totally get the frustration now."

"Shut up."

We went back to shoveling dirt. I eyed my friend, part of me amused and the other part exasperated. Deadpool just looked pissed, and not her everyday level of pissed. No, this was the kind of pissed that normally resulted in a 15 to 20-year stretch in the clink.

"What are you waiting for?"

She didn't answer, devoting laser-like focus to our task though it didn't require a single brain cell. These two were killing me. It was obvious to everyone they wanted to bone. Well, obvious to everyone but the two of them.

I thought something might happen at the prison, but Rick was a mess. He was grieving while trying to figure out where he fit into our new normal, and then, in the blink of an eye, it was snatched away from us. Between Terminus, the hospital, and almost dying on the road admittedly there wasn't a lot of time for romance, but Alexandria was the perfect opportunity to remedy that. I'd simply assumed the idiots would fall into bed together, but they hadn't. In fact, they seemed to have friend-zoned each other though it was clear neither was particularly happy with the development.

"It's not like that."

"Bullshit." She narrowed her eyes, and I raised my eyebrows in response. "You might be able to sell the others on that crap, but don't insult my intelligence."

Her eyes dropped to the ground, shoulders slumping. "He doesn't…His interests lie elsewhere."

I followed her gaze to Jesse, and fought the urge to strangle her. Rick wasn't interested in Jesse, not like that. Her husband was an abusive asshole. Now he was a dead, abusive asshole. Rick was a lot of things, but he was still a cop at heart. His need to fix things, to help others, still lingered despite his desire to harden that part of himself. Now as the community's only form of law enforcement he saw it not only as his responsibility, but his job. Being the one who'd killed her husband made him feel indebted to the woman. He wanted to make sure Jesse and her sons found a way to stand on their own two feet. His interest in her ended there.

"He's not interested in her. Not like that." Deadpool didn't look persuaded. "Trust me, he's trying to help her. That's it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know him."

She kicked the dirt, biting her lip. "It just seems stupid. We may have some sense of security at Alexandria, but we're still facing life and death choices every day."

I put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "That's exactly why it _does_ matter."

Making it until tomorrow really didn't matter if you were miserable. There was more to life than killing walkers and surviving. My eyes drifted to Daryl who was working near his brother. Having someone to share your life with was what made all this worth it. If we weren't fighting for that then what the hell were we doing?

"It's been so long…I wouldn't even know what to do."

Seeing Deadpool insecure was like seeing a mountain lion cower, simply unnatural.

"It's really simple," I explained while she waited expectantly. "You walk up to him and stick your tongue in his mouth." Her smile lit up her face, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "If you really want to seal the deal do it naked. Nothing says I don't want to be friends like naked hugging."

She wiped tears from her eyes. "Why do I feel like you're not kidding?"

Cause I wasn't.

I started humming, and she frowned. I moved my shoulders in sync with the beat, and now she was really frowning. I hummed louder, pulling away from her so I could twirl in a circle.

 _"If I was your girl, oh the things I'd do to you. I'd make you call out my name. I'd ask you who it belongs to."_

Deadpool looked at me like I was insane, but I kept singing, even throwing in some classic Janet Jackson dance moves to really sell it. I'd memorized this video when I was younger, and I wasn't ashamed to admit…I still had it.

 _"If I was your woman the things I'd do to you. But I'm not. So I can't. Then I won't. But…if I was your girl."_

"Stop it!" she hissed, grabbing my arm and halting my dance-dance revolution. She ducked her head, trying to avoid the stares of just about everyone. "You're insane."

"Maybe, but that doesn't make me wrong."

We finished loading the wheelbarrow in silence, me still humming the tune, and Deadpool fantasizing about playing with Rick's dangly parts. Gag.

"I'm going to take these over," she said, picking up the wheelbarrow and gesturing to Rick.

"Remember, Carpe Scrotum." Grabbing life by the balls was a motto everyone should live by.

She tripped, the wheelbarrow tipping sideways precariously before she righted it. She glared at me over her shoulder. "You need professional help."

I snorted, "Don't I know it."

Carol stopped beside me, offering me a cup of water. She looked troubled, eyes constantly straying back to Mr. Miyagi.

"Were you just dancing and singing?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I took a sip of the water, and almost moaned it was so good. "Trying to convince Deadpool to let Rick feed her kitty."

Carol stared at me like I was speaking Swahili for a good 5-seconds before she nodded in agreement. "Is it bad I'm no longer shocked by what comes out of your mouth?"

"No, it just means you know me." She hummed in agreement, forehead scrunched up in thought. Something was bothering her, and it had nothing to do with our reluctant love-birds. "What's up?"

She drug her teeth across her lip, looking around to make sure no one was listening before answering. "Something Morgan said…he thought I was a cop."

I stopped shoveling dirt, bracing my hands on my knees as my shoulders shook with laughter. Who knew preparing for what might be imminent death would be so entertaining? The only thing funnier than Carol pretending to be a docile housewife was someone thinking she used to be a cop.

"Pull yourself together," she scolded, slapping my arm, "People are starting to stare, again."

"They're staring at your stupid sweater not me." She pursed her lips, grumbling under her breath. "Are you really surprised he didn't buy your bullshit?"

"Everyone else did."

I shook my head. "Because they only see what they want to. Morgan see's what's really there."

"I don't think we can trust him."

"To keep your secret or not kill us?" I asked.

Personally, I wasn't worried about either. I already knew Mr. Miyagi wouldn't kill us, and even if he did tattle on Carol, no one would believe him. She was right. She had these people snowed.

"I'm going to keep my eyes on him."

"You do that," I said, watching her leave. There was paranoid and then there was Carol.

I lost track of time digging and filling sandbags. I'd forgotten how shitty this kind of work could be. There was so much to be done. The worst part was the herd could break loss any second, whether we were ready or not.

"Here," Daryl said, tapping a tube of sunscreen on my arm. "Look like a cooked lobster."

I glanced at my shoulders and cringed. Ouch.

"Thanks," I replied, squeezing out a generous amount and slathering my arms, face, and neck. My attention was drawn to Rick and Deadpool who were standing a few feet apart, hands shoved in their pockets like awkward prepubescent teenagers. "Do you think they're ever going to fuck?"

Daryl spit out his water, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Jesus Christ woman."

"Sorry babe, do you think they're ever going to _make love_?"

Merle strolled by, two sandbags on either shoulder. "Can of ABCs says they don't even make it to first base."

"You're on Captain Hook!" I yelled, rubbing my hands together. "I'm so gonna win this one."

My husband studied Rick and Deadpool with a shake of his head. "I don't know Red. Been a year, and ain't shit happened."

"We've been a little preoccupied with not dying. Now that things have settled down." He raised his eyebrows, questioning my assessment of our current situation. "In a manner of speaking, there's plenty of time for those two to cuddle naked."

"Whatever ya say." He took a step closer, using his finger to turn my head so I was facing him. "Ya got a little…"

He cupped the side of my face, his thumb rubbing in a blob of sunscreen on my nose I'd missed. I leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. I felt him move closer, and my hands automatically curled in the front of his shirt. His smell surrounded me, that spicy scent that was a combination of the outdoors, motorcycle grease, and smoke. With his other hand he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He was so close I could feel the puffs of air across my face as he exhaled, and my gut clenched in anticipation. I could practically taste him, and fought the urge to yank him the final few inches, but before he could press his irresistible lips to mine the moment was ruined.

"Did you know sex burns as many calories as running for five miles?" Ariel sing-songed, sauntering by with an amused Apocalypse Barbie in tow.

That was preposterous. Who the fuck could run five miles in 30-seconds?

I let my head fall against Daryl's shoulder, flipping Ariel the bird. "I hate people."

Daryl lifted my head, pressing a brief and annoyingly chaste kiss on my forehead. "In the wrong line of work Red."

"No shit," I snorted. He turned to leave, and I couldn't stop myself from slapping his ass. He stopped, turning slightly. "What? I couldn't _not_ slap it."

"Gonna pay for that later."

His eyes darkened suggestively, and I felt my throat go dry. Hell, could I pay for it now? Twice?

"Promises, promises," I taunted.

He smirked like he knew something I didn't, and I barely resisted the urge to fan myself. Needing something to distract myself from the sexiness that was Daryl Dixon I walked over to Maggie, pausing a few feet away while she and Tara finished hugging. The younger woman sniffled when she pulled away, offering me a brief nod before leaving. I casually leaned against the RV, watching Nicholas and Glenn working in strained silence.

"Did you tell her?" I asked, and Maggie nodded. "How'd she take it?"

"She wants to kill him." Finally, something Tara and I could agree on. "She agreed to let it be, for Glenn."

I nodded, cocking my head to the side as I watched Aiden's former right hand man. His face looked like chewed up hamburger meet, and Glenn's wasn't much better. Just thinking about him luring Glenn into the woods to kill him made my blood boil.

"If he tries anything again it won't matter what Glenn wants," I promised, eyes never straying from Nicholas.

I was willing to honor my friend's wishes, this time, but if he made a move, _any move_ , I was putting him down.

"Thank you."

My eyes shifted to Maggie. "You don't have to thank me for that." She swallowed hard, clearly nervous. I'd waited days for her to spill the beans on her happy news, but she hadn't so I took pity on her, offering up a soft, "Congratulations."

Her eyes flicked to me, wide and…scared? I exhaled harshly, moving to stand in directly front of her before pulling her in for a hug. She sagged against me, squeezing me tight, sniffling. I rubbed her back, rocking back-and-forth slightly for a few seconds while she pulled herself together. When she pulled back she looked slightly better.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to…it's just…you and Daryl just lost the baby and…"

"Maggie," I interrupted, "You don't have to apologize. I'm so happy for you guys. Really."

She nodded, eyes filled with unshed tears. "Thank you Alex." I smiled at her. "How did you know?"

"Please, being in the know is what I do." She snorted, laughing. "Are you doing OK? Is the baby OK?"

She shrugged, "I feel a little nauseous in the morning, but it's not bad. I haven't been to see the new doctor yet, but I will after we deal with the herd."

Ah yes, Denise, the anxiety plagued psychiatrist turned doctor. I suppose _some_ medical school was better than no medical school. Since Rick redecorated the sidewalk with Pete's brain matter it wasn't like we had much choice.

"Let me know what she says after you see her." She nodded. I saw Rick talking with Deanna and frowned. "How's she doing?"

Maggie glanced at the community leader, face thoughtful. "She's struggling."

No shit. First her son then her husband. That would be a lot for anyone to handle, but for a group of people who'd escaped the majority of the awfulness in this world, it was enough to crush them. She showed no signs of recovery, and that worried me.

"Make any progress convincing her to give our weapons back?"

"No, but Rick's going to talk to her. She's coming around, it's just gonna take time."

I sighed, "Time's the one thing we don't have."

As if the universe wanted to prove my point I heard the snarl of a handful of walkers pushing through the woods. I jogged over to Rick who put up a hand, stopping me from intervening.

"Carter, heads up," he warned.

Deadpool, Ariel, and Apocalypse Barbie joined me while the Dixon brother's and Mr. Miyagi rushed in from the opposite side. All of us had our weapons drawn, ready to take out the walkers, but Rick held us back.

"Use your shovels," Rick instructed, but it was wasted effort. Carter realized they were on their own, and his face paled, body visibly shaking in fear. "Guns will draw more."

I was all for on the job training, but it was clear these people weren't ready. I only counted three walkers, but by the look on their faces they may as well be staring down a herd.

"What do we do?" Deadpool whispered, sword in her hand.

"We wait," I answered, two knives in either hand.

Rick was right. They had to learn. It would be a disservice if we stepped in. There might come a time in the not so distant future we weren't there to save them. They had to learn how to survive in this world if they had any hope of making it.

"This is gonna go down about as well as finger-bangin' a dolphin." Deadpool and I slowly turned to Ariel who only shrugged. "Just sayin'."

"Help us!" Carter pleaded.

"You can do this! You need to! All of you!" Rick screamed.

A walker lunged for a man in front of Carter, but instead of killing her he pushed her away, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. The walker came right back at him, snarling and growling, and again he only kicked her. The group stood there, making no move to save themselves, eyes constantly darting behind them to see if the cavalry had been unleashed. And then all of a sudden there weren't three walkers to contend with there were 10. That's how quickly it could happen, how abruptly you could go from safety to fighting for your life.

I reared back, throwing the knife in my left hand as hard as I could. It impaled the female walker just before she sunk her claws into the prone man still lying on the ground. I quickly threw a second knife, taking out the walker closing in on Carter.

"Morgan go!" Rick yelled, "Daryl!"

I ran, pulling two more knives without breaking stride. Morgan cracked a walker in the head with his staff shattering his skull as I landed a roundhouse kick to the head of another. I didn't hesitate, pushing forward and leaving Deadpool to finish off the walker. I heard the whoosh of her blade slicing through the air moments before a wet thwack signaled the end of the walker.

I jumped in the middle of three walkers, and almost immediately an arrow slammed into the head of the one closest to me. I slashed at the walker on my right, taking him out, and turned my attention to the other, but Rick was there, shoving a knife into the crown of his head. Deadpool and Merle killed two more, and it was over. The only sound I heard our group's slight panting, and the Alexandrian's muffled crying.

Daryl appeared at my side, eyes scanning me intently, and I nodded. He exhaled harshly, nodding in return, helping me collect my knives. Merle crouched next to a walker, pulling out my knife and rubbing the gore on its shirt before silently offering it to me. It was only then I noticed the tension in the air, but it had nothing to do with the walkers.

Rick and Morgan faced each other, engaged in some kind of silent dick measuring contest. I looked between the men, wondering if it would be rude to just keep walking, but Daryl's hand slid into mine. He shook his head, firmly holding me in place. I pursed my lips, cocking a hand on my hip, waiting.

"You said you don't take chances anymore," Morgan said, eyes blazing with challenge.

Rick had no answer for that so he simply walked away. I looked at Daryl expectantly and he waved his hand, indicating the dick measuring had officially concluded. Men were so weird.

It was too late in the day to safely work outside the gate any longer so we quickly packed our supplies, and headed for Alexandria. I'd just finished stowing the shovels and leftover sandbags when Mr. Miyagi stopped beside the truck. He didn't say anything, just stood there with his hands wrapped around his staff, face contemplative. I waited for him to speak his mind. The man did nothing without a purpose, and this was no different.

"Rick is different," he finally said. I closed the truck bed, turning to face him.

"Different from what, the man you knew two years ago for less than 24-hours?"

"You know what I mean," he huffed.

"I really don't."

I started walking to Daryl's bike, Mr. Miyagi trailing behind me.

"He's reckless. He doesn't value life."

That stopped me in my tracks.

"Neither did you not so long ago." Morgan flinched. I hated myself for going there, but he left me with little choice. "We're all doing the best we can in this world. We aren't murderers. We aren't marauders. We're still people. That's what counts. That's all we can do."

Hello Terminus, The Wolves, The Governor.

Morgan considered my words, the two of us walking in silence. I hated bringing up his painful past. I didn't know much, but I'd heard enough. After the death of his son he'd lost his mind to madness. When Rick, Deadpool, and Carl ran across him back in Georgia he was hell bent on singlehandedly exterminating the walker population in the state of Georgia. I was all for setting goals, but seriously? I knew he'd murdered innocent survivors in his haze of hate. I also knew it haunted him. It was how I knew we could trust him. Regret was where we all found our salvation.

"I want to believe there is a way to survive this world without bloodshed."

I glanced at him. "I have no problem with that." So long as it didn't get me or anyone I loved killed. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, urging me to continue. "Why does Rick's behavior bother you, but not mine?"

If anyone in this group was reckless, savage, and didn't value life, it was me.

"I don't know what you mean."

I snorted, "Don't play dumb with me." He ducked his head. "You don't bitch about my homicidal tendencies because you accept it's who I am. It bothers you to see Rick do the same thing because you think you know him. You still see the shaken, traumatized man who just woke from a coma searching for his family. That's not who he is anymore."

It hadn't been for a long time.

"I suppose you're right." He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the horizon. "However, I still believe there is way to survive this nightmare without succumbing to…violence."

That was a nice idea, in theory. Truthfully, it would never work. Some people may be able to skate by without doing things that haunted their dreams, but only if there were people like Rick, like me, who did what had to be done. As much as Morgan wanted to believe there was a way around violence there might come a day when the world forced his hand.

I put a hand on his arm causing him to stop. Our group wasn't the sharing kind. What happened to us was our business, and ours alone. However, Morgan was a part of that group, kind of, and he needed to understand how we got here.

"We spent last winter on the road. Every day was a struggle. We had no food, nowhere to go, and little hope things would ever change." Morgan's eyebrows furrowed as he listened intently. "Despite everything we went through to survive that winter it was nothing compared to what Rick endured. He was our leader. He kept us alive. He kept us fed. He gave us hope, and all the while he had to watch his wife's belly grow with a child he knew wasn't his."

Morgan's eyes widened in surprise, and I nodded mutely. Rick wasn't Nugget's biological father, but he _was_ her dad.

"Can you imagine what that was like? Trying to keep your wife, pregnant by your best friend, alive in the dead of winter with no supplies surrounded by walkers at every turn? God forbid you ever have to walk a mile in his shoes because then you might know what it's like to have to choose."

I could have stopped there, he got the idea, but I was hammering this one home.

"After we found the prison we all thought things would be different, but the world doesn't change, not really. We were attacked and driven from our home, but not before we were forced to watch a madman kill Maggie and Beth's father."

Morgan opened him mouth to say something, probably offer condolences for a man he'd never met, but I held up a hand, stopping him.

"But before that he called Rick out, demanded he choose…our home, our freedom, or Hershel's life." A shiver raced across my skin recalling the memory. "I can still hear his daughter's screams; hear Rick's anguished wails of horror as he watched a monster murder Hershel. God forbid you ever have to watch something like that cause then you might know what it's like to have to lose."

He put a hand on my shoulder, drawing my mind away from those awful times. "Thank you Alex."

"No problem Mr. Miyagi."

He turned on his heel, walking away, but stopped after only a few steps. "What you said, about being forced to choose, I've heard it before. What philosopher were you quoting?"

"Everlast."

He frowned at the answer, and I smiled, hopping on Daryl's bike. Once we were inside the gates Rick, Daryl, Morgan and I made our way to Goggles place while Rick filled us in on his chat with Deanna. Bottom line, we were getting our weapons back. _Finally_ , a bit of good news.

Rick opened Goggle's door, and we all stopped. Billy Ray Cyrus was on the ground huddled against the wall, hands raised in surrender while Carter held him at gunpoint.

So much for good news.

I didn't think. I reacted.

One second I was standing beside Rick in the doorway and the next I was in front of Carter. He swung the gun towards me causing Daryl to let out a string of threats that made the four people cowering in the corner cringe in fear. My husband was rightly pissed there was a gun pointed at my chest, again, but it was exactly what I wanted.

I moved quickly, my right hand connecting with Carter's just below his wrist, my fingers wrapping around his arm. At the same time my left hand closed around the barrel of the gun, and I twisted it into his body as quickly as I could, angling the barrel away from my body. I didn't think he'd be able to get a shot off, but just in case I'd prefer he be the one taking a bullet to the trachea. Predictably he wasn't ready for the move, and before he knew it I was the one holding the gun.

"Get on your knees," I ordered, gun pointed at his forehead. He swallowed hard, face pale as he fell to the floor. My eyes shifted to Billy Ray. "You good?"

"I am remarkably unharmed considering the seriousness of the situation in which I find myself."

I assumed that was Billy Ray for "Gotta be".

Rick stalked forward, face every bit the reckless survivor Morgan thought him to be. He gave me a grateful nod, stopping directly in front of Carter. I dropped the gun, but kept my finger on the trigger just in case.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked though the answer was pretty clear. "What are you doing?"

"Taking this place back from you," Carter admitted.

I laughed, hard, only belatedly realizing he was serious. "Jesus man, ever heard the saying aim small, miss small?"

This guy probably couldn't take out Goggles much less overthrow Rick.

"That's what you were talking about in here?" No one standing in the side room could hold Rick's murderous gaze.

"That's what he was talking about."

Rick nodded like the explanation made sense even though it made none. "See, I would have set up some lookouts. That would have been the smart thing to do."

Well, that's why they didn't do it. None of these people were smart.

Without warning Rick punched Carter in the face causing him to fall on his side. "Did you really think you could take this community from us? From Alex, from Michonne, from Daryl, _from me_?" One of the guys in the side room looked like he was contemplating getting in the mix so I shook my head at him. He stopped immediately. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"It was just me," Carter cried. "It was just me." So the other four people were what, exchanging casserole tips? "Just kill me."

I rolled my eyes. These people were so dramatic. Rick wasn't going to kill anyone. If he was he wouldn't be talking. He'd be shooting.

"Rick," Daryl said, drawing his friend's attention away from Carter.

Rick stepped away from the crying, bleeding man, rolling his shoulders. "I'm good." He eyed the others briefly before turning his attention back to Carter. "You can try to work with us. You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

The unsaid threat was fairly obvious; if they didn't we would promptly arrange a dirt nap for them. Carter nodded, the others following suit. Rick offered them a friendly smile like he hadn't just beat the shit out of Carter and threatened their lives, walking out of the house without further comment.

I tucked Carter's weapon into the waistband of my jeans, kneeling in front of him. He leaned away from me, trying to keep as much distance as possible between us. I cocked my head to the side with a lopsided smile on my face.

"Don't worry about it man. You're hardly the first person to try and kill us." I was being kind labeling this as a legitimate assassination attempt. I was pretty sure the paper cut I got a few weeks ago had a better chance of killing me. "Don't you know this is all just a contest? The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest."

He paled, and I slapped him playfully on the cheek before standing, and meeting Morgan's stern gaze.

"Everlast?" he asked, unhappy at the violent turn of events.

I smirked, sliding my hand in Daryl's. Only once I was standing beside him, our hands joined, did his shoulders relax, marginally.

"Pink."

* * *

 **I decided Rick and Jesse weren't going to be an item. I was never a fan of that development so in this story it's always been Deadpool and him...even if it takes** **a while to get there.**

 **Next chapter starts the story arc with the herd and The Wolves. Hope you're excited.**

 **The songs Alex quotes (plagiarizes) are Everlast - What It's Like, and Pink - Please Don't Leave Me.**


	60. Come and Take It

**Come and Take It**

"Poutin' ain't gonna change nothin'."

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not pouting. I'm expressing my displeasure in a non-violent way."

Daryl took a slow drag of his cigarette, studying me. "Uh-huh. So when ya hit Merle in the stomach earlier...?"

"Alright, I'm expressing my displeasure in a non-violent way _now_ ," I clarified.

I'd be the first to admit my shit needed work. I was handling today's practice run about as well as Nugget handled eating pureed peas. The only difference between my displeasure and hers was mine wasn't visible on the kitchen walls.

Truthfully, I was nervous and it scared me. Being nervous implied something was going to go wrong. If something went wrong Daryl would be out there, in front of a massive herd, and I would be stuck here with no way to help him. That didn't sit well with me.

"We're just gonna walk through the plan so these pussies don't freak out when the time comes."

Calling the these people pussies was an insult to vaginas. Those things could take a pounding. These people couldn't take a pounding of any kind.

"I know," I hummed, biting my lip to the point it started bleeding, again. "I'm just not used to being left behind."

I couldn't remember a plan that didn't have me in the center of the mayhem. Normally, I _was_ the mayhem. It wasn't ego making my anxiety flare. It was the not knowing. My family, save a select few, would all be outside the compound with nothing but "pussies" to watch their back. The mere notion made bile churn uncomfortably in my stomach. For the millionth time since Rick asked me to stay behind I swallowed down the worry the decision elicited.

Daryl flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it before stepping into my personal space. One large hand settled at my hip, drawing me closer, while the other gentle cupped the side of my face.

"Be back b'fore ya know it," he promised.

My stomach shifted uneasily. I'd been trying to dismiss the feeling of impending doom since it settled on my shoulders late last night. I hardly slept a wink, tossing and turning to the point the bed sheets were knotted around my legs by the time the first rays of the sun spilled through our tiny window. Daryl was right, this is just a dry run, working out the final logistics before the "big day", but it didn't feel like that. The problem was I don't know what it felt like so instead of voicing my irrational fears I balled them up and shoved them away. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it, whatever _it_ was.

"Right." I attempted to smile causing Daryl to press his lips together in displeasure. He knew I was faking it. "Just promise me you'll be careful...that you'll be back." Unharmed I add silently, trying to conceal the shaking in my hands by curling them in his vest.

He smirked, that devilishly handsome look that did funny things to my heart. "Always."

"Say I promise."

He cradled my face with both hands, blue eyes penetrating. "I promise Red. I'll always come back to ya."

When his lips touched mine I felt like crying, unable to explain why this felt like a goodbye instead of a see you later. I pulled him closer, choking on a sob that got stuck in the back of throat. I would not cry. This was just a test run. Nothing was going to happen. He was going to be fine. Everyone was going to be fine. Maybe if I kept saying it I'd start believing it.

By the time he pulled back I'd halfway convinced myself today wasn't going to be the emotional equivalent of getting shit on by a bird. Daryl sighed heavily, not buying my fake optimism.

"Whatcha got planned?"

My plan for the day consisted of staring at the gate and pacing, or at least it did until this morning.

"Carol's going to teach me how to make a casserole."

"A casserole?" he repeated, scratching the stubble on his chin.

"Yeah." I totally understood his confusion. I didn't cook, and I certainly didn't casserole. "She makes it sound like it's a real task, but I think you just dump crap in a pan and bake it."

"Is that what's for dinner?"

"Oh hell no." I suppressed a shudder. "We're having spaghetti at Eric and Aaron's."

Dinner at Eric and Aaron's was becoming a regular occurrence for us. Our newfound friendship with the couple was a surprise to most, but not to me. I knew the moment I threatened to kill Aaron and lifted a Ford Focus off Eric we would be thick as thieves. When we weren't eating at their place we always had an open invitation at Francine's. We had mooching down to a science.

"Sounds like a plan." He hugged me, his chest rumbling as he whispered in my ear, "I'll see ya again."

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, replying with a barely audible, "This side or the other."

"For Christ sake, cut the cord already!" Merle yelled, striding to a car. That was rich coming from a guy who had more than his tongue in Francine a few minutes ago.

We kept our eyes on each other while simultaneously flipping his brother the bird. I reluctantly let him go, curling my fingers into my palm to keep from reaching for him. He adjusted the strap of his crossbow, eyes never straying from me, and I told myself to breathe. I offered him a shaky smile, and he winked at me in return. I knew what he was doing, trying to calm my nerves by being irresistible. I also knew it was working. I had no idea how he did it. Being that sexy must be exhausting, exhausting but effective. Just like that I was no longer worried about everything that could go wrong today. I was wondering if we had time for a quickie.

"Won't be nothin' quick 'bout it." Daryl's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Do we have time for a quick hug?" That turned into sex, I added mentally, knowing he'd hear it.

"Ya got a dirty mind Red."

"Sexy imagination," I corrected, genuinely smiling for the first time today. "I love you Katniss."

"Love ya too Red."

As soon as he was on his bike my heart started pounding so hard it was painful. Today was going to suck. There was absolutely no way around it. Until he was back, until they were all back, I wasn't going to relax.

Rick stopped in front of me, face serious. Something told me he didn't want to talk about a quickie which was good because throwing up wasn't in my game plan for today.

"We'll be back by sundown." I nodded, and he pulled me in for a hug. "If anything happens you do what you have to."

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling apprehensive. I don't know why he was worried about me, watching Carol make a casserole was hardly life-threatening. If anything was going to happen it was going to happen outside the walls.

"Yeah," I replied, "I won't let anything happen to them."

Rick worried about everyone, but his children were on an entirely different level. I needed him to know I would keep them safe, no matter what, so he could stay focused on the task at hand. The last thing we needed was someone getting hurt, or worse killed, because they were distracted.

He blinked rapidly like he was trying to stave off tears, nodding curtly before pivoting on his high heel and leaving. I watched the procession of cars pull away, Daryl in the lead. I kept watching long after the guard closed the gate. I didn't move until Carol finally put her arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the house.

If someone had told me this morning I was more likely to die from boredom than a walker I'd have called them crazy. Carol had been making celery soup casserole for the better part of an hour though there wasn't much to show for her efforts. So far all she had was a baking dish filled to the brim with a suspiciously green, soupy mixture that wasn't fit for human consumption.

"Get your feet off the counter," she chastised, dumping a can of water chestnuts into the pan.

I re-crossed my feet at the ankle, smiling sweetly at her around a mouthful of cold beans.

"Is it supposed to be that color?" I asked, eyeing the dish warily. I really hoped tasting wasn't part of this cooking lesson.

She glared at me. "You're supposed to be learning how to do this. You're a married woman now. You know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Spoken like a wife in the 50's." She glared at me, and I laughed. "Besides, the way to my man's heart isn't through his stomach. It's through his giant..."

"Stop."

I grinned, "You know, for someone who reads porn all day you sure are a prude."

"It's not porn," she huffed, "It's a romance novel."

In my experience romance didn't come with a ball gag and whip, but whatever did it for you.

"Are we almost done making casseroles?"

"You haven't done shit," she countered, opening the oven and carefully putting the pan of green mush in. Unless that was a magic oven it wasn't going to help.

"Oooh, you said a bad language word."

You couldn't be a fake housewife and go around dropping bad language words. What would they say at the next PTO meeting?

She shook her head, adjusting the temp on the oven. "Can you set the timer for 45-minutes?"

I did as she asked, albeit skeptically. "Is 45-minutes enough time to turn that into food?"

"You're officially not invited to dinner."

That was all it took to be excluded from celery soup casserole night? Good to know.

I smiled at the monitor, watching Nugget sleep peacefully upstairs. Casseroles, baby monitors, and granite countertops, it was like the world never ended. I guess for these people it hadn't. Not really.

Carol walked over to the window, shaking her head. "That woman."

"Who?"

"Shelly." That didn't clear up my confusion. Who the hell was Shelly? "Oh my god."

I was off the counter and beside Carol in a flash. A heavy set man wielding a machete emerged from behind a house. His face twisted into a maniacal snarl as he hefted the blade, the weapon traveling in a half-circle before the blade sunk into Shelly's head, killing her. I grabbed Carol's sweater vest, pulling her away from the window.

"Carl, get down here!" I yelled, opening the hall closet and pulling out my rifle. Carl flew down the stairs, face pale.

"I saw from upstairs. They're coming in from all over."

I handed him my rifle, "Stay here and protect Nugget. If anyone you don't know walks through that door you put a bullet in their brain. Got it?"

"Got it."

Outside was pandemonium. I heard terrified screams followed by the deranged laughter. A few people ran by in the distance followed closely by strangers chasing them with machetes. I took a deep breath, telling myself to calm down and work the problem, but a rustle in the bushes made my skin prickle. I rounded on the intruder, PPQ raised as I advanced slowly. Enid's head popped out, the girl's eyes wide as she scanned the immediate area.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hollered, dragging her out of the bushes.

She didn't get the chance to answer as Beth and Noah barreled around the corner. Seeing the couple alive and unharmed made my shoulders slump in relief. I pulled Beth forward, hugging her hard.

"They're everywhere," she mumbled, a shudder of fear rolling through her.

"I know." I squeezed her arm, trying to offer her comfort though it didn't do much. We were under attack, and they'd come for blood. I directed my attention to Noah. "Get inside. Carl has a spare rifle. Stay here and stay safe."

He nodded, "I will."

"I can't find Maggie." Beth was legit crying now.

I pressed my lips together, looking around like the eldest Greene daughter might magically appear out of thin air. I remembered her saying something about showing Deanna the plans for a garden this morning, something about carrots which meant she was probably outside by the expansion. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing at the moment.

"She can handle herself," Carol assured Beth.

Yes, she could, but she was most likely alone. Worse she might be with an Alexandrian. Add to the fact she was pregnant and we had all the makings of a Greek tragedy. Carol was right, Maggie could handle herself, but it wouldn't stop her sister from worrying. Hell, it wouldn't stop me from worrying, but there was nothing I could do at the moment.

"Take her with you." I shoved Enid into Beth's arms, ignoring the girl's weak protests. She could have a pre-menstrual moment later, after we didn't die. "I don't care if you have to tie her up."

Enid's eyes blazed with anger at the statement. She may be young and she may live in Alexandria, but she wasn't one of them. I didn't know much of her story, but the little I'd heard was gut-wrenching. The one thing I was absolutely sure of was that she was a survivor. Right now I needed her to stay put. We needed the extra set of eyes at the house. Plus, if she ran Carl might do something stupid, like try to follow her. I didn't need that kind of shit in my life right now.

Once everyone was safely inside Carol and I crept forward slowly, using the houses for cover. I stopped briefly at the corner of the house across the street before motioning her forward. We watched a filthy man walk by dragging a man in chains behind him, oblivious to our hiding spot. A few feet away there was a man on his knees stabbing a body over-and-over. Blood splashed across his face each time he plunged the weapon into the lifeless body. He laughed hysterically, stopping only to put a single finger in the mutilated body, coating his finger in blood then drawing a W on his forehead.

"The Wolves," I muttered, fury bubbling in my chest, "We have to get to the armory."

Carol nodded, surveying the mayhem with analytical detachment. "Follow me."

She led us through the streets, careful to keep us hidden. I paused when I saw one of The Wolves dismembering a body, but Carol's hand wrapped firmly around my arm, pulling me back.

"You can't help him," she insisted, dragging me in the opposite direction. "We have to go."

Reluctantly I let her lead me away. She was right. I couldn't help him, but I could help others, if we got to the armory before they did. We heard a cry for help and sprinted around a corner. I immediately sprang forward, wrestling a man with a knife away from a woman. He slashed at my stomach, and I jumped back, pivoting on my heel, delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as his body went limp, hitting the concrete with a thud. I wasted no time sinking a knife in his head.

When I turned I saw Carol cradling the dying woman in her arms. Her stomach was ripped open, intestines spilling onto the ground beneath her. Her body convulsed, her lifeblood gushing from her body like a waterfall.

"Shhh," Carol cooed, holding her close, a hand covering her mouth to muffle her cries.

I knelt on the other side as Carol angled the woman's head into her chest, exposing the back of her head. As quickly and gently as I could I slipped the knife into the base of her skull, and her struggling instantly ceased. Carol laid her down on the blood stained concrete, eyes vacant as she stared at the dead woman. I knew that look.

"We have to go," I urged, pulling Carol to her feet. We couldn't stop. There would be time for grief when this was over. "Come on."

This time it was me pulling her away from the grisly scene. I hadn't known the woman, but Carol did. She knew everyone. Carol may only be pretending to be a housewife, but there was a part of her that wished it was true. No one wanted to live like this. No one wanted things like this to be a part of their life.

A semi-automatic rifle fired from the clock tower, and I hoped to god whoever was up there was worth a damn. Almost all of our good shooters were out on the practice run which meant the odds were high whoever was shooting was missing their intended targets.

The rate of fire increased so rapidly it was hard to distinguish between shots. It was then I knew shit had gotten real. We were in trouble, big trouble. If the shooter was firing the 30-round magazine almost uninterrupted something bad was headed our way, something worse than what was already here.

We didn't have to wait long to find out. There was a loud crash followed by the unmistakable sound of metal groaning and wood splintering. A horn blasted a second later, making Carol and I flinch. It was so loud, so piercing it made me want to cover my ears. We looked at each other, our faces a mirror image of trepidation. Most of the walkers in this area were confined in the quarry, but any that weren't would be drawn here like a moth to a flame thanks to that sound.

The horn stopped as abruptly as it started, but we didn't have time to ponder the development. A group of Wolves formed a loose circle around us, wicked smiles on their filthy faces. Carol straightened her spine, raising the knife in her hand, ready to defend herself. I didn't give her the chance. I fired four rounds, killing them. She turned slowly, eyebrows raised.

"I'm done with the fuck-fuck games." She shrugged, indifferent to the dead men at our feet. She immediately started pulling a long, hooded overcoat off one of them. When she removed his bandana, tying it around her face I nodded in appreciation. "Almost, but you need a little something..."

I swiped my finger through a puddle of blood, painting a W on her forehead. When I was done I took a step back, giving her the once over.

"How do I look?"

"Honestly, better than you did in that stupid sweater," I answered with a wink.

"We've got to hurry."

We jogged in the direction of the armory, slowing down when we saw a Wolf standing-off with none other than Mr. Miyagi. I frowned, confused at his appearance. He was supposed to be with Rick. Even if he'd been sent back when they heard the horn there was absolutely no way he would've made it here so quickly.

"Leave," Morgan demanded, body braced for an imminent attack.

"Gonna be slow," the man taunted, taking a step forward.

I shot him in the back of the head, his legs crumpling unceremoniously as he fell forward. Morgan's eyes went wide as Carol and I stepped into the open. He looked back-and-forth between us. Well, really he was looking more at Carol who finally pulled down her bandana.

His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes slid to me. "I could have stopped him."

I knew that. I just didn't care. Today wasn't a _stop_ _him_ kind of day. It was a _kill_ _him_ kind of day.

"Are the others back?" Carol asked, undoing the chain around the dead man's waist.

"No, it's happening out there."

In two large strides I was in Morgan's face, one hand curled in his shirt as I fought the urge to shove my gun in his face. "What happened?"

"We had to do it. They got out, all of them, starting coming this way. The others are leading the herd away."

My vision narrowed to pin holes, my breathing come too fast. I felt dizzy and nausea, having a difficult time keeping my legs under me. Daryl was out there, in the lead, as a herd of over 100,000 trailed behind him. I shouldn't be freaking out. This was, after all, the plan, but it wasn't supposed to be the plan _today_. The Alexandrian's weren't ready. Hell, I wasn't ready.

"Alex!" Carol bellowed and I shook my head, trying to clear it. We had our own problems right now. I could freak out over my husband later, assuming we survived that long.

"I'm good."

"We have to get to the armory," she explained to Morgan, holding up the chains. He eyed them warily, not that I blamed him. I didn't do role play either. "They don't have guns."

He ignored her. "I could have stopped him." He gestured to the dead man and I shrugged. "You didn't have to kill him."

"These people forfeited their right to mercy when they tracked us down, scaled our walls, and slaughtered our people," I fired back, "They started this fight. Now we're going to finish it."

I wasn't a monster, or at least I tried really fucking hard not to be, but this kind of fuckery was crossing the line. Raiding someone's community, killing mercilessly, hacking up bodies, all of it was unforgivable. Mercy wasn't intended for men like this. He had no answer for that, mainly because there wasn't one. Some acts demanded violence. This was one of those acts.

Carol handed the chains to Morgan who took them though he didn't look thrilled. She pulled her bandana up, covering her face.

"We need a diversion. Do you think you can get their attention?" she asked me. "If they're focused on you it will be easier for us to sneak into the armory."

"Yeah, sure."

"What are you going to do?" Morgan asked, curling his wrists into the chain to make it look like he was restrained.

"Pick a fight," I shrugged.

"Be careful," Carol added, already pulling Morgan in the opposite direction.

"Same to you."

When they were out of sight I looked around, listening, then headed in the direction of the most commotion. I rounded the corner, coming face-to-face with 10 Wolves. They had three Alexandrian's on their knees in front of them. I only recognized one, Francine.

"Well, well, well, come to join the party?" a man asked, stepping away from the pack.

Something about him was vaguely familiar though I was certain I'd never laid eyes on him. His hair was long and stringy; black strands obscuring most of his dirty face. Clearly personal hygiene wasn't a requirement with this group.

"If by join the party you mean fuck your shit up, then yeah, that's why I'm here."

He laughed, eyes blazing with insanity. "But I have 10 and there's only you."

"I can count, but thanks for the head's up."

Carol was right. They didn't have guns. If they did they would have shot me by now. I tightened the grip on my weapon, trying to figure out a way to save Merle's girlfriend. She couldn't die. I simply wouldn't allow it. For the first time since Melinda he was happy, and I refused to let some assholes who called themselves The Wolves take that away from him. The leader of the group followed my eyes back to Francine. He clucked his tongue, moving to stand next to her, smiling wide.

"Do you know her?" I stayed silent, cursing myself for giving anything away. "How about a little trade? You for her?"

The man holding a knife to Francine's throat pressed the blade harder to her neck, a few drops of blood marring her skin. He was already dead. He just didn't know it yet.

"Go fuck yourself you piece of shit."

Francine said it like a straight baller. I mean, holy shit, she was on her knees with a knife about to sever her carotid artery, and she was spitting venom like a boss. If that wasn't savage I didn't know what was.

The crazy leader laughed, running his fingers through his greasy hair causing the sleeve of his jacket to ride up his arm. It was then that all the pieces finally fell into place. His tattoo, I'd seen an identical one not not too long ago. Suddenly the facial features I couldn't quite identify fell into place. He looked exactly like Sam, same eyes, same hair, same skin tone. They were related. Brothers if I was betting.

Sam's brother raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to make a move. I was out of time. Carol needed a diversion, and Francine needed an out. Hopefully this would be both.

"Real shame what happened to Sam and Reggie," I taunted, watching his smile vanish. "Bullet to the forehead is such a downer."

I didn't wait for a reaction. I fired three quick shots, taking out The Wolves holding knives on our people. Once I was sure Francine was out of danger I pivoted on my heel and ran.

"Get her!" Sam's brother screamed.

Just as I'd hoped he was blinded by revenge, all but forgetting about the hostages. The seven of them followed me, shouting and hollering threats. I rounded a corner and saw two Wolves about to hack up a woman. I shot one in the forehead and another in the chest without breaking stride, jumping over the crying woman. Someone screamed in outrage, and I chanced a look behind me. The pack of Wolves following me was getting larger, and I turned, pumping my legs harder.

A few of our people had armed themselves, taking up positions on porches and inside houses. They shot at the Wolves as I ran by, killing a select few. My lungs burned and my legs ached, but I didn't slow down, didn't dare stop. I knew they were back there. I could hear them shouting threats and promising pain followed by death.

Well, I officially had their attention, now what?

I darted to my right in-between two houses. The Wolves were gaining on me, and I couldn't run forever. Someone threw a knife, the blade skimming the top of my shoulder before skidding across the grass. Two men rounded the corner at the opposite end of the alley, cutting off my escape route. I looked around for somewhere to go, but I was pinned in by the massive houses flanking me and Wolves on both sides. Without a better option I darted to my left, diving through a living room window, and sliding across the floor for several feet before coming to a stop. I wasted no time, scrambling to my feet, running to the kitchen. Gunshots tore through the walls and windows just as I dove headfirst over the kitchen island, landing with a thud on the other side. I sat with my back against the island, panting, checking the remaining ammo in my weapon.

I heard The Wolves shouting outside, and looked around for an exit, knowing they would burst through the door any second. Footsteps charging up the porch made my pulse skyrocket. I leaned around the kitchen island, staying low and scattering a few rounds in the door and front windows that would hopefully make them think twice about coming in. I heard a muffled scream then a voice commanding everyone to get back.

"There's no way out of this!" Sam's brother yelled. "If you give up now I promise to kill you quickly!"

I surveyed the kitchen, taking a measured breath when my eyes landed on the stainless, steel oven. I swallowed hard as I scooted forward, turning all four burners to high. I wiggled my arm in-between the oven and cabinetry until I felt the cool metal of the gas line, and quickly disconnected the hose running from the oven to the wall. The gas vapors rippled in the air, the pungent scent tickling my noise.

"I really appreciate the offer!" I screamed, pulling a fork out of a drawer and tossing it into the microwave. I'd never been more thankful for electricity. "But I have a better one...eat shit and die!"

I slammed the door shut, pressing the 30-second button. The microwave lit up, cooking the metal utensil. Sparks flickered in the confined space as the glass plate turned in a lazy circle.

 **20 seconds**

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die!" The front door swung open just as I dove into the laundry room. "Find her! I want that bitch alive so I can kill her myself!"

 **10 seconds**

Ignoring their threats I opened the door of the spare refrigerator, positing my body directly behind it while I braced for the inevitable impact.

 **5 seconds**

"Do you smell that?" someone asked just as the microwaved dinged.

There was a moment of almost eerily silence, no one spoke, no one moved, then an overwhelming burst of light enveloped the house. Heat exploded in every direction, a fireball consuming most of the kitchen. Flames danced up the wall, racing quickly across the ceiling. My eyes slammed shut just as a deep boom sounded, making my bones rattle painfully. An invisible force slammed into my body, hurling me backwards until I collided with the wall. I slid to the ground, falling on my side, tasting blood on my tongue. Black plumes of smoke filled the air, burning my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. My ears were ringing and my vision blurry, but I could see well enough to make out the blazing fireball quickly consuming the house.

I coughed, crawling on my hands and knees. The incessant ringing in my ears wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of men screaming as they were burned alive. I groped for the door knob, twisting and turning until it finally gave way allowing me to crawl out. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. In my sensory deprivation I never saw the porch stairs, but I felt each and every one of them as I rolled down.

I thought I heard someone scream my name, two pairs of hands wrapping around my upper arms, and dragging me further away from the burning house. I blinked away tears, my vision blurry for another moment before it finally cleared, revealing the worried faces of Apocalypse Barbie and Aaron.

"Are you OK?" Aaron helped me sit up, scanning me for injuries.

"Gotta be."

My body ached, my ears were still ringing, and my lungs burned with each inhale. There were numerous shallow cuts on my arms, but nothing that required immediate medical attention. Considering I blew myself up I was doing surprisingly well.

"What happened?" Aaron asked, patting my back lightly as I coughed.

"Pulled a Terminus."

Apocalypse Barbie smirked, "Nice."

I returned her smile. Look at the two of us, getting along and shit. Guess all we needed in order to be friends were deranged lunatics attacking us.

"Do I want to know?"

I smiled at Aaron. "Probably not."

He helped me to my feet, the two departing to scour the area for any remaining Wolves. I told them to be careful, and headed in the opposite direction. I needed to check on Carl and Nugget, find Maggie, and make sure Carol and Morgan were alright.

I limped through the streets, taking in the grisly aftermath of the attack. Our community was bathed in blood, some The Wolves, but most of it ours. Bodies lined the sidewalk and blood coated the once pristine streets. I stopped at every body, ensuring none would reanimate.

"Alex!" I turned, watching Francine rush towards me. I frowned when she didn't stop, barreling into me and hugging me. "Thank you."

Now I understood what Daryl felt like all those times I hugged him back when we first met. My arms hug loose at my side for far too long to be socially acceptable before I awkwardly patted her back, wincing in pain.

"You don't have to thank me," I said as she pulled away. "You good?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Did you hear...about the herd?"

"Yeah." She looked worried for Merle, and would have laughed if I wasn't absolutely sure we weren't on that level yet. "He'll be fine."

She swallowed hard, "How do you know? That herd is..."

"No one can kill Merle, but Merle."

She smiled, nodding. "I'm sure Daryl will be fine too."

"He better be or I'll kill him myself," I countered, "I need to check on the kids. I'll talk to you later."

The only thing scarier than a herd of 100,000 strong was an angry wife. He'd be back, and he'd be fine. I refused to consider any alternative.

I jogged the rest of the way to the house despite the pain. Carol was sitting on the steps when I got there, a pack of cigarettes and lighter in her hand. She didn't hear me approach, and didn't acknowledge me when I sat down. Instead she bowed her head and cried.

I didn't ask her what was wrong because I already knew. Killing took something from you, something you never got back. Instead, I put my arm around her, pulling her close. Her head fell on my shoulder just as a gut-wrenching sob slipped from her lips. I stroked her hair, comforting her while she struggled to come to terms with what she'd done, with who she was now.

Carol had been conflicted for as long as I'd known her. She never wanted to be the timid controlled woman from before the apocalypse, but she also didn't want to be a ruthless survivor. Deep down I knew she longed for peace, the type of peace this world would never grant her. She was a warrior, merciless when the situation called for it, but that part had never been the issue. She didn't struggle with committing the act. She struggled to live with it. It was the aftermath that broke her spirit.

A few minutes later she finally sat up, wiping away any trace of tears from her bloody face. Gone was the woman grappling with her choices. In her place was the steadfast fighter who offered no apologies for her actions.

"The kids are safe," she assured me. "Enid's gone."

I nodded, not the least bit surprised at that development. I knew the girl snuck out from time to time. I also knew Carl followed her a few times. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. We were all desperate to find the safety and security a place like Alexandria offered only to have a difficult time living in it once we found it.

"She'll be back. When she's ready," I said.

I knew Carl cared for the girl, but there wasn't anything I could do about her disappearing act right now. I had an entire family out there. I couldn't worry about someone who'd made the decision to leave.

"We need to clean up. Check on the others."

I stood, scanning the streets. "Yeah, I saw Apocalypse Barbie earlier, but I haven't found Maggie, Tara, or Eugene."

"Maggie doesn't need this right now." Did any of us?

My eyes strayed outside the fence. "The noise is going to draw the herd here. We need to get ready for what's coming."

I didn't need to clarify what that meant. A herd of that size would obliterate the town. Our only hope was the group figuring out a way to keep them away from here. We couldn't run, not from a herd that size, and we certainly couldn't hide. Only time would tell if they were able to corral the walker's after the horn. All we could now was wait and see. If they weren't able to get them back on track we were as good as dead.

My disappointment this morning at being left behind seemed like a distant memory. I should have known better. There was no safe, not anymore, and there certainly wasn't any sideline. Suddenly dealing with the largest herd we'd ever encountered seemed like the better option. Daryl may be leading them away, but at least he had a means of escape. We were trapped. I could only hope he didn't know what happened. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand. There was nothing he could do except finish the job. Leading the herd away might be the only thing that could save us now.

I walked down the street, my boots splashing in the crimson red that was the brutal truth of the new world. Walkers were never the threat. It was always the living.

* * *

 **Ready or not, here we go. The group has survived the initial attack, but the herd is loose and we all know what comes next.**

 **Are you excited, nervous...? What was your favorite part?**


	61. What Hurts the Most

**What Hurts the Most**

"The town was overrun," Deadpool explained, lips quivering. "He split off with Nicholas."

I kept my arms around Maggie, her body shaking from fear and exhaustion. She didn't need this. None of us did, but her most of all. She was pregnant, and now her husband was missing. It was bad enough Deadpool didn't know what happened to him, but to know he was out there with only Nicholas to watch his back made me feel sick.

"Boy got the idea that if he lit a fire it would stop the walkers from headin' this way," Merle interjected, "I'd have gone myself, but I'm slower than a Sunday afternoon."

That actually made Maggie laugh, and I gave my brother-in-law a tiny smile. I was so relieved when he showed up with Deadpool I almost cried. He looked no worse for the wear, but just as I'd feared they couldn't control the herd, not all of them, not after the horn.

"The fire never got lit. We had to keep going. I'm sorry." Deadpool's shoulders slumped in defeat. She blamed herself for not bringing back Maggie's husband.

I wanted to ask about Daryl, but it felt insensitive. He was most likely alright, or at least better than whatever situation Glenn was in at the moment. He was with Ariel and Sasha, leading what was left of the herd away. He had a vehicle, weapons, and solid backup. Glenn had none of that.

"He said if he got stuck, he would find a way to send us a signal."

Maggie's head snapped up, eyes boring into Deadpool. "A signal?"

"Open the gate!" I bolted from Maggie's side, running to the gate. Too many people were shouting to make out anything other than the loud, "Open the gate!"

The man standing by the gate moved too slowly for my liking so I shoved him out of the way, unlocking it myself, and pulling it open.

"Alex, wait!" Maggie yelled.

"Firecracker, don't ya fuckin' dare!"

I ignored both their frantic please. I didn't stop, didn't think, I just reacted. I couldn't control what was happening with Daryl. I had no idea if Glenn was even alive. The list of things I couldn't influence was a mile long, but this, this I could do. I slashed at a lone walker stumbling out of the woods with my knife, the slice cutting horizontally across her face and dropping her.

"Oh my god!" Apocalypse Barbie screamed from behind me.

"Keep it open!" I hollered, sprinting forward.

Rick was running down the street, a herd hot on his heels. I pulled my PPQ, pumping my legs harder, trying to close the distance between us before the unthinkable happened. He looked bloody and beaten, knuckles scrapped, face battered, and clothes in tatters. A walker lunged for him from behind, and I raised my weapon, firing. Rick never broke stride as the bullet sailed over his shoulder, missing him by only inches. The walker flew off her feet, her flailing limbs knocking into two more walkers and sending them sprawling to the ground.

I was able to give Rick some breathing room, but there were still a sizeable number of walkers hot on his heels. With no visible weapons he was forced to drive his shoulder into the chest of a walker, tackling it to the ground to avoid a bite. He popped back up quickly, and I fired three shots, killing the walkers reaching for him. I reached down, grabbing hold of his arm and yanking him forward.

"Come on, we gotta go!" He staggered to his feet, exhaustion and injury making his movements sloppy and slow. "Go!"

I shoved him in front of me before turning and back peddling, continuing to shoot walker. The herd was enormous, and I felt a ball of dread expand in the pit of my stomach. I recognized the feeling for what it was, fear. Our lives were hinging on the group leading the herd away, somehow finding a way to keep them on track after the horn. Clearly, it hadn't worked, and that might prove fatal for everyone in Alexandria.

"Alex, get back in here!" Deadpool shouted.

I glanced over my shoulder just as Rick dove through the gate, collapsing on the ground in a heap. I pivoted on my heel, sprinting the remaining few feet before turning sidways to avoid the already closing gate. Once I was safely though Deadpool immediately slammed it closed, and not a second too soon. The herd collided with the fence, snarling and groaning, their arms extending through the bars as they tried to reach us.

I panted, hands on my knees, eyeing the fence warily. The herd was big, too big. These walls may be reinforced with steel, but walkers didn't get tired, ever. They would push and claw at our defenses until they found a way in. That wasn't even the bad news. We were trapped with no way out, no way to get additional supplies we desperately needed. The walkers didn't even need to breach the walls. All they had to do was stand there, and eventually we'd starve to death.

I was catastrophizing. I knew that so I told myself to calm down, but with every horrible possibility racing through my mind at 100 mph it was difficult. That was what fear did to you. It negated your ability to make good decisions. When that happened it was imperative to wait before trying to solve a problem. People who jumped into action while their brain was temporarily offline were the ones who ended up dead.

"Close the screen," I wheezed.

It wouldn't do much to thwart the herd, but it put an additional barrier between us and them. Right now, we needed every advantage we could get. Discreetly I eyed the crowd around us. Deanna looked catatonic, and few others looked close to passing out. They'd likely never seen a herd of walkers much less a herd of walkers knocking on their front doors. I hated to break it to them, but they were in for one hell of a ride, one way or another.

I made my way to Rick, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You good?"

He nodded, still breathing hard. "Gotta be." I snorted, smiling despite the severity of our situation. He smirked, standing and immediately pulling me into a hug. "Thanks."

"It's what we do," I whispered.

He pulled away, and I stepped back, Deapool instantly replacing me in his arms. The two shared a few words I couldn't hear before Rick smiled slightly, using his thumb to brush a lone tear from her face. I looked away, my heart literally aching.

"How many?" Maggie asked, arms wrapped around her waist protectively.

"Half, maybe more." The collective gasp of shock wasn't surprising. "I was going to try and lead them back to Daryl, but the RV wouldn't start."

"Is he..." I trailed off, unable to finish the question.

Rick's eyes softened. "He's with Sasha and Abraham. They're sticking to the plan with the rest of the herd."

I swallowed hard, nodding. The number of Alexandrians at the fence had doubled in a matter of minutes. They were nervous and scared. They had a right to be. This was bad.

"What do we do?"

Rick eyed the crowd, standing up straight, trying to appear confident and not near death. He waited for Deanna to take charge, to say something, _to do something_ , but like every time since the death of her family she faltered. She stared at the ground, immobile, and Rick sighed.

"We need to reinforce the fence," he instructed, "Check the perimeter, make sure there isn't anywhere they can get through."

Maggie and Deadpool stepped forward, dolling out tasks and assignments to the group. Staying busy was crucial. The more time people had to sit around with nothing but fear as company the more likely it was we'd have issues. Rick nodded his head, and the two of us stepped aside, speaking in hushed tones.

"What happened?"

He eyed me up-and-down slowly, cop face firmly in place. He may look like absolute shit, but I wasn't going to win any beauty pageants. My clothes were covered in blood, and my hands were tinged in red. I hadn't had a chance to clean or bandage the cuts on my arm, and my shirt and pants were covered in black soot. I self-consciously scrubbed at the dried blood caked on my nails, licking my lips nervously. I wasn't ashamed of what I'd done despite Morgan's disapproval. I'd done what I had to for myself and my family.

"The Wolves happened," I explained. "The horn you heard was them ramming the outer fence with a semi. The got inside. We took heavy losses."

"Carl and Judith?"

"Fine," I answered quickly, and he exhaled harshly. "Our people are all accounted for."

He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. "Thank you Alex."

"Of course." The herd pounding on the fence drew my attention, and I pulled my ponytail tighter, anxiety clawing at my throat. "You should get cleaned up. Gonna be a long day."

He nodded, walking away, but stopped. "Daryl will be alright."

"I know."

He jogged home to clean up and check on the kids. The efforts to reinforce the wall were already well under way, but it was obvious the community was at its emotional limit. I heard their hushed murmurs, and conspiracy theories about why this happened. They were at their breaking point. The irony wasn't lost on me. We hadn't even collected the bodies off the street, and here we were, facing another imminent threat.

Welcome to the apocalypse Alexandria.

"Look like shit lil' sister."

I glanced at Merle, eyeing him slowly up-and-down. "You're not looking so hot either."

He clothes were coated in walker blood and sweat, but it was the telltale tinges of bright, red blood that explained how a practice run had turned into a blood bath. The group that left this morning was noticeable smaller than the one that returned this afternoon. That was how the world worked now. You were here one second, and gone the next.

"Why's it look like ya set yourself on fire?"

I glanced down at my shirt, brushing at the blackened edges, and watching them float to the ground. "I didn't set myself on fire. I blew myself up."

There was a _big_ difference.

His eyebrows rose into his hairline. "So the house that's a smokin' pile of rubble?"

"Yeah, that was me."

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Ya never disappoint." Tell that to my husband. He was going to be pissed when he found out I pulled a Terminus. I wasn't supposed to make bombs. "Shit's gonna get a hellova lot worse b'fore it gets better."

I sighed, "Tell me something I don't know."

Despite the precariousness of our situation I couldn't keep my thoughts from drifting to my husband. Both Rick and Merle assured me he was fine", but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was in trouble. He wasn't late, yet. It would take them another couple of hours or more to lead the herd away then double back safely. Still, when I thought about him out there my throat tightened and it got hard to breath.

"Darlina's fine," Merle repeated, reading my mind just like his brother. Vulcan mind melds must be genetic.

"Uh-huh."

I had no viable explanation, no proof, but I didn't believe that. I'd always felt a connection with Daryl I couldn't explain. I knew it sounded insane, but I could just feel when he was in trouble, in danger, and I felt that now. I could barely stop myself from hopping the fence, fighting my way through the herd, and tracking him down.

Rick's arrival pulled me out of my own head. He walked forward slowly, eyeing the crowd with calm authority.

"You can hear it." He stalked to the fence, raising a single eyebrow. "Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us 20 deep."

The murmurs of the crowd were overwhelming; a singular thought repeated by the masses, what do we do? Rick's public speaking had gotten better over the years, but he was still a Debbie Downer. He didn't beat around the bush. He stomped all over the bush then told it to stop bitching.

"Look, I know you're scared. You haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe for now." That was a bold-faced lie if I'd ever heard one. "The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together."

That my friends was the power of positivity.

"Can you?" His question was for everyone, and he glared at them, daring anyone to voice their doubts.

Merle leaned over, whispering. "Officer Friendly's talkin' with his tongue outta his shoe."

I frowned, looking down at Rick's high heels. I saw nothing even resembling a tongue.

"What?"

"Yur special Firecracker."

"When you say that it feels like you mean I should be wearing a helmet?" I harrumphed.

"If the shoe fits," he grinned and I punched his arm. Enough with the shoe talk.

Rick continued his dismal motivational speech despite the general apprehensive of the group. "The others are going to be back."

For a beat no one moved, but it was obvious what they were thinking. Not likely.

"They're gonna be back," Apocalypse Barbie agreed, a determined set in her jaw. Rick nodded his head in thanks.

"Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles. They're gonna lead 'em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after." Maggie walked into the center of the circle, hope on her pale face. "They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. We'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on."

"This place _is_ a graveyard."

I didn't know the woman who spoke, but her words pissed me off. These people complaining about life in general ruffled my feathers. This world was shitty, but these people had only felt the very tip of its dick.

"You want to see a graveyard, step outside the walls," I said, coming to Rick's defense. "They did everything they could to keep the herd away from here. If you think you can do better, be my guest."

The woman shrunk back without further comment. It was easy to throw stones at glass houses. It wasn't as much fun when the house hit back.

"The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way. All of them," Aaron added, turning in a slow circle. "The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away."

No one could hold his gaze. My recruiting partner looked about as bad as I'd ever seen him, covered in blood and suffering from a healthy dose of shock.

"I was...I was out there recruiting with Daryl and Alex. I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge. Alex broke off to try and find the man we were tracking. Daryl wanted to keep looking for him too."

I already knew about the pack Aaron found on a dead Wolf. In my eyes it changed nothing. I knew the second we ran across them at the Salvation Army they'd come for Alexandria. Finding Aaron's pack only expedited the inevitable.

"We did what I wanted...and we wound up in a trap set by those people, and I lost my pack. They must've followed our tracks. The people who attacked us...they found their way back here because of me."

Aaron's news was too much for Deanna. She staggered away like a walker. It was a shitty thing to think, but it didn't change the facts. Unless she found a way to snap out her funk she was already dead.

"They'll be more to talk about," Rick said.

"Deanna?" The community turned to watch its former leader walk away without a word or backwards glance. "Deanna?"

I'd seen the look the petite woman was wearing on the faces of Soldiers in war. It was a difficult thing to stomach, watching the life slowly drain from someone's eyes. It only made it worse it wasn't due to a visible wound. No, what Deanna was suffering was terrible, but it was a conscience choice. She wore her hopelessness like a set of shackles. It was a metaphorical knife in her gut slowly killing her. It was something only she could overcome.

We proceeded with clean-up, collecting bodies and pilling them up near the fence. It was grim work, work the community was struggling to complete. It seemed like everywhere I looked someone was crying, puking, or bitching.

When Aaron walked passed me, head down, shoulders slumped in self-loathing I grabbed his shirt, hauling him aside. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Stay with Maggie."

He frowned, eyes straying to the woman in question. "Is there something I should know?"

I licked my lips, "She's going to try and leave to find Glenn."

"But...that would be..."

"Crazy, yeah, I know." The irony of my words weren't lost on me. I was considering doing the exact same thing for my significant other. I leaned closer, eyes serious. "I don't care what you have to do, keep her here."

"I will," he agreed, turning to leave so he could plaster himself to Maggie's side like a conjoined twin.

"Hey Aaron." He stopped, looking at me. "It's not your fault."

I didn't wait for him to reply. My head was killing me, and I had more than a few cuts that were still slowly oozing blood. I told Merle where I was going then set out to find the new doc. When I opened her door I found Tara sitting backwards on a stool, and the doc sitting on the ground looking ready to cry. There was an unconscious man on a gurney hooked up to a monitor that was beeping far too frequently for anything good to be happening. It didn't take a medical degree to know he was in bad shape. He had a wound on his leg that looked inflamed, a sure sign of infection. His sweaty clothes were an indication he was fighting a raging fever.

"Can I help you?" the doc sniffled.

"Got any Tylenol?" She nodded, pointing to a cabinet. "Bandages?"

"Over there." She watched me in silence for a few seconds before medical curiosity got the better of her. "What happened?"

"Blew myself up."

Tara laughed, and I winked at her. Denise sat there speechless, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

"You blew yourself up?"

Tara smiled, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

I popped two pills in my mouth then set to work cleaning and bandaging the worst of the cuts on my arms. Tara stood, drawing the doc's attention. She smiled at the woman, putting her foot on the book by the door and sliding it across the floor.

"It's not like I don't feel it. You know, being afraid sucks."

Denise let Tara leave without further comment, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. These two were almost as bad as Deadpool and Rick, making googly eyes at each other all day, but doing nothing about it. Who knew unresolved sexual tension would be the main issue during the apocalypse.

The monitor attached to her lone patient started beeping, the pace picking up as his blood pressure and heart rate plummeted. Denise swallowed hard, staring at the dying man, making no move to intervene.

"You gonna sit there or save this guy's life?"

She shook her head wildly, tears falling. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, getting off the floor would be a good start." She looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. "He's got an infection, right?" She nodded. "And we have no antibiotics?" Another nod. "So what else can you do?"

"Um, I could..." she trailed off, fear of failure staying her tongue.

"Denise, look at me." I squatted down, snapping my fingers in her face a few times. Her hazy eyes focused on me. "What did we do before antibiotics?"

"We died."

I snorted, "You're my kinda doctor." I walked to her desk, snagging a bottle and tossing it in her lap. "While I appreciate your honesty I think you'll find most people need a slightly softer bedside manner."

She held the bottle in her hand. "Honey?"

"Nature's antibiotic," I said, and her eyes flew to mine.

"Honey contains hydrogen peroxide."

No shit.

"You need to lance the wound and drain the puss then you can lather it in honey, and redress it. Try to control his fever as best you can. Alternate Tylenol and Ibuprofen every four hours."

"I can do that," she said, sounding slightly more confident. Slightly.

I put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "You'll be fine doc."

"Right." She was trying to convince herself she could do it. "Do you have medical training?"

"No." I did, however, get fucked up on the regular. Life was an excellent teacher as was necessity. "Fake it till you make it."

"Fake it till you make it," she repeated, sweating profusely.

Far too quickly day turned into night. I sat atop a lookout, the dead growling below, but I barely heard them. My eyes were locked on the horizon, waiting for the man I loved to return. He should have been here by now. They all should. The sinking feeling in my gut was horrific.

"Nice night."

Merle casually sat down beside me, feet dangling over the edge of the wall. He hocked a huge loogie, spitting it on the walkers. I took a few deep breaths, trying to quell my rising panic.

"Somethings wrong," I admittedly quietly.

Merle scratched the stubbly lining his jaw, considering my statement. "Ya don't know that. Lots of things could've held him up."

Lots of things like death, walkers, The Wolves, or something equally as terrible. Every possibility I imagined was worse than the last.

"I'm telling you...he's in trouble."

"Ain't much ya can do 'cept wait." The fact he didn't disagree with me made my lips trembled, and I blinked back the tears building in my eyes. "Gotta be strong Firecracker. He'll be back."

He was right. When you were separated from someone the worst thing you could do was move around. Someone had to stay put and wait. I just wasn't good at waiting. I never had been.

I fidgeted with the ring on my left hand, trying to hold my shit together. Merle sighed heavily, looping his big arm around my shoulder and pulling me against him.

"He knows what he's doin'." I sniffled, unable to stop the tears. "Ain't nothin' can kill a Dixon 'cept a Dixon."

Love was a beautiful thing, probably the best thing that'd every happened to me, but it didn't come without consequences. The fear I might never see him again was slowly killing me. I didn't know what was worse, knowing with absolute certainty he was dead or knowing nothing at all. Both options left me cold and empty.

This was never part of the plan. I knew forever wasn't guaranteed, but missing him, losing him like this, was a special kind of torture. He was my everything. Before him I lived my life in darkness, listening to the voices in my head that said I would never measure up. He was the first person to tell me I was loved, that I was strong, that I was more than the sum of all my lows. In him I found my worth. I found my identity. Together we suffered every failure, and rejoiced in every victory. We could handle whatever this world threw at us as long as we were together. Without him I felt like I was dying.

I didn't know how to deal with this because it was never part of the plan. If anyone was going to die it was going to be me. It was _supposed_ to be me. I was prepared to do whatever I had to make sure it was always me, never him. Without him I felt like a different person, like the worst version of myself. It'd been so long since I'd felt like this I no longer knew how to do it. On the outside I pretended to be OK, but inside I was a mess.

"I...I can't do this without him," I sobbed, bowing my head.

"The hell you can't." That tone was normally reserved for someone he was about to pummel. "This ain't helpin' him. Look at me." I kept my head down. "Look at me goddamnit!"

So I did. I looked at him, tears streaking down my face, lips trembling. I could be strong in front of everyone else, but not now. Right now, alone with my brother-in-law, I wasn't a hardened killer nothing could touch. Right now I was a wife who desperately needed her husband. I just got him back, and somehow, I'd lost him all over again.

"Christ," he cursed, letting out a puff of air. "Stop cryin'." I continued crying, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. "Please, stop cryin'."

I sniffled, wiping tears from my face, but more replaced them instantly. Merle fidgeted beside me, unable to navigate a situation that didn't require killing or lewd comments. For a second I didn't think he'd say anything, but he surprised me. He squeezed my shoulder, gaze focused on the horizon though it was too dark to see anything clearly.

"Ya really think he's dead?"

It was the first time I'd ever heard him unsure. It wasn't just my husband out there. It was his little brother. The brother he desperately wanted to make amends with. He may tell anyone that would listen the Dixon's were immortal, but in reality we were only human. One wrong step, one false move, and that was it, game over.

I closed my eyes, blocking out the memories from today, the sounds of the herd below, and my frenzied emotions. I didn't know what I was doing. You couldn't close your eyes and _feel_ something. That was impossible. It was batshit crazy, but somehow I could. I couldn't explain it. I definitely couldn't rationalize it, but it didn't make it less true. Daryl was alive. He was in trouble, but he was alive.

"No, I don't," I answered, opening my eyes. Merle glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, skeptical.

"How the hell ya know that?"

Talk about confusing. First he's brow beating me into accepting my husband, his brother, was alive despite all evidence to the contrary. Now that I agreed with him he questioned me. Unbelievable.

"The force," I answered, smothering my smile when he frowned in confusion.

"The what?"

"The force." He still wasn't following which just made it all the more amusing. "It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us...binds us...holds the world together."

What I lacked in formal education I more than made up for with Star Wars. When Yoda said the greatest teacher was failure I really felt that shit deep in my bones. Merle, on the other hand, had clearly never seen iconic trilogy. If he had he was too high to remember, probably the latter.

"That don't make no damn sense."

When he started looking around like he would somehow be able to see the force I almost burst out laughing. Man, I needed that.

"Don't underestimate the power of the Force," I cautioned, smiling.

He shook his head. "Glad yur done cryin' like a titty baby."

I _was_ done crying. I was also done waiting. I'd give Daryl until tomorrow night, then I was going after him, herd be damned.

"Oh hell, I know that look. That look means yur 'bout to do somethin' stupid," Merle accused, "Yur the most stubborn woman I ever met."

"I'm not stubborn," I countered, eyes still searching for Daryl, "My way's just better."

* * *

 **This chapter sets the stage for the big finale of this particular arc. I know it may seem like filler, but I thought it was important to really see how The Wolves attacking and the herd surrounding the town affects the group, mainly Alex. The decision to separate her from Daryl during these episodes was so we could explore her vulnerable side so it didn't make sense to skip over it.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter, especially the Star Wars references at the end. I'm a huge fan of all things Star Wars so working it into the story makes me smile.**


	62. It Never Ends

**It Never Ends**

"Were you up here all night?" I turned to Rick, the answer obvious by my bloodshot eyes. "You can't keep this up. I know you're worried, hell, we all are, but..."

"You need me ready to pull a Sicario," I finished, looking away, "Don't worry."

I was always ready to kill, whether I liked it or not.

"I was going to say right now I'm more worried about you than them." _That_ got my attention. He chuckled. "Don't look so surprised. We're family. Looking out for each other is what we do."

I nodded, exhaling slowly, trying to push back the tide of emotions surging inside. "Francine's due to relieve me any minute. I'll go home, shower, eat, maybe even sleep." At best I'd do one of those things, but it was what he needed to hear. "You should go check on her."

I pointed to the opposite lookout where Maggie stood. She took over halfway through the night, and had been there ever since. Not that I could blame her. Well, not without being a complete hypocrite, but if anyone needed rest it was her.

"It never gets any easier," he murmured, glancing down at the herd in disgust.

"Yes it does." He searched my face and I smiled. "When I found this group, when you became my family, it got easier. Things might not change." I sighed, surveying the herd. "But when you have people worth fighting for, it makes this worth it. No matter what happens, I'll always be grateful I found you guys."

His lips trembled slightly, and I saw tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Stop by the house later. There's something we need to talk about."

He gave me a brotherly side-hug, planting a chaste kiss atop my head before climbing down and heading for Maggie. Francine ascended the ladder a beat later, flashing me a genuine smile.

"Right on time."

She laughed. "Figured it was the least I could do considering you pulled every shift last night, and this morning."

"Yeah, well..." I trailed off, moving to leave. "Be careful. I don't want to hear any shit from Captain Hook."

She waved me off with a good-natured laugh. Clearly she didn't know her boyfriend all that well yet. If she left this platform in any anything less than pristine condition he was liable to loss blow a gasket.

By the time I made it back to the house, took a quick shower, and put on fresh clothes Rick was sitting at the dining room table with Carol, Morgan and Deadpool. Everyone looked tense, defensive even, and I bit my lip. Whatever Rick wanted to talk about it wasn't good, and I resisted the urge to jump out the window to avoid the inevitable confrontation. I didn't have the energy for this. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept or eaten. I knew sleeping wasn't going to happen, not anytime soon, so I opted to rummage through the pantry until I found a can of ABCs and 123s. Once I had it open I pulled a dining room chair out, falling into it, and propping my feet up on an adjacent one. Rick merely raised a singular eyebrow, waiting for me to get comfortable before starting.

Morgan beat him to the punch. "What's going on?"

"When I was coming back," he cleared his throat, the subject matter clearly difficult to talk about. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV. Lead the walkers away, but five of those people with the W's on their foreheads, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV. Now, Carol says she saw you...and that you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol posed it as a question, but it was an accusation.

"Yes, I did," Morgan admitted without hesitation.

Deadpool's shoulders stiffened, and Rick's eyes strayed to me. I nodded, letting him know it was the truth. I didn't need my internal lie detector for this. I'd personally witnessed him spare our attackers in the heat of battle. Plus, Morgan didn't lie, ever.

"I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill."

Carol scoffed, his statement firing her up. "They burned people alive!"

That was rich coming from her. It was the truth, but pot, meet kettle, and what do you know, both black. Who knew?

"Yeah." The notion clearly made Morgan sick, as it should. "Why didn't you kill me, Rick, back in King County? I pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. So why didn't you kill me? Was it cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"Cause I knew who you were," Rick defended.

It was a weak rebuttal. Truth was, they hadn't known each other then, not really. Shit, they _barely_ knew each other now. I'd had a longer relationship with the can of ABCs and 123s I was currently eating.

"Back there I would have killed you as soon as look at you, and I tried. But you, you let me live, and then I was there to help them." He gestured to me. "See, if I...if I wasn't there...if they died, maybe those wolves wouldn't have been able to come back here." His lips trembled as he continued to speak, "I don't know what's right anymore. I saw what they did, what they keep doing. I knew I could end it."

The way he said it made it obvious the fact pained him. Not everyone was built for this world. Sure, Morgan had survived it, but everything comes with a price. The price of survival in this world was your soul.

"Everything gets returned," I whispered, and he nodded, head bowed.

"All life is precious." I didn't agree with that, not 100%. There were no absolutes. Some people were assholes, plain and simple. "That idea...it changed me. It brought me back, and it keeps me living."

"I just don't think it's that easy," Deadpool said.

"It's not _easy_."

Deadpool's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I wasn't sayin'..."

"I...I know," he backtracked, "I thought about letting that idea go...but I don't want to."

"You may have to," she countered. "Things aren't as simple as four words."

"Why not?" All eyes shifted to me as I licked my spoon, dropping it in the empty can. "You know what you know and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

Her shoulders deflated. It was a low blow, using her own words against her, but sometimes that was the only way to get through to someone. Rick sat up straighter. He was surprised I was siding with his pen pal, but I wasn't. I was merely playing devil's advocate.

"Do you really think someone can survive without getting blood on their hands?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"It takes all kinds." He frowned, perplexed by my statement so I continued, "The world needs people like him." I pointed at Morgan. "And you." Then Carol. "And you." Now Deadpool. "And you." Lastly, Rick. "At some point each and everyone one of us will be asked to play a role only we can fill." I looked at each of them. "We'll need leadership, mercy, loyalty, and pragmatism."

The three of them were silent while they considered my words. I didn't have moments like this often, but when I did, it was because I was stressed, sleep deprived, and all out of fucks to give.

The meeting adjourned quickly after that, and I walked outside to the porch. Morgan stopped next to me, drumming his finger against his staff.

"Thank you for what you said in there."

I sighed, leaning my head back, savoring the feeling of the sun on my face. I hadn't done it for him. It was something I wanted to believe, needed to believe in order to make it through the day. I turned to him, face serious, and he fought the urge to take a step back. I was giving him the murder face.

"I know you're hiding something." I stepped into his personal space. "If it ends up hurting anyone I care about I'll kill you myself."

I left a shocked Morgan in my wake, making my way back to the front gate. In an open area Apocalypse Barbie was teaching a class on killing walkers. The Alexandrian's listened with rapt attention, attempting to recreate her moves, and failing in epic fashion.

That wasn't what caught my eye though. My attention was focused on Billy Ray Cyrus. He wasn't even trying. Instead he stood there, eyes distant, body tense, a bundle of nervous energy with no outlet. It didn't seem possible, but he worse at self-defense than being a fake scientist which was a statistical anomaly.

I stopped, arms crossed over my chest, silently observing the much smaller woman as she teed off on him. Billy Ray stuttered and mumbled until eventually admitting the truth, he was scared of dying. If she was pissed before she was downright rabid now. She stood on the tips of her toes, getting as close to him as possible, screaming at him to do something, anything to protect himself. By the time she was done the fake scientists she'd once risked her life to protect looked ready to cry. He quickly pivoted on his heel, walking away liked a whipped dog.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" a woman in the back of the group asked.

I scoffed, walking in front of the group. I was trying to be more positive, but I swear, the longer this day drug on the only thing I was positive about was that I was going to fuck someone up.

"I'd take her brutal honesty over your sugar-coated bullshit any day of the week." None of them could look me in the eye, and it pissed me off even more. I was itching for a fight, problem was, no one here could give me one. "If you want to see harsh, step outside the walls. Oh that's right, you guys don't do that. You let _other_ people to fight your battles. Well guess what, there are no other people. If you want to live you'll listen to her because it might be the only thing that saves your miserable lives when the time comes."

I saw surprise on Apocalypse Barbie's face for about a millisecond before it vanished, reverting back to a mask of cool indifference. She did offer me a subtle head nod which for us was a big deal. I returned the gesture before leaving.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Francine asked as I scaled the ladder.

I shrugged, ignoring her worried stare. "Anything?"

"No, nothing yet...what, what is he doing?"

I turned to the right, and my eyes bulged in utter disbelief. There was a grappling hook on a building a few feet away, a rope attached to the end leading back to a lookout platform. Deanna's idiot son, Spencer, hoisted himself up, attempting to traverse the rope so he could avoid the herd below. The grappling hook groaned, the sound of metal scratching causing goose bumps to break out on my arms.

"Spencer! Get back! It's not going to hold!" I screamed.

He either didn't hear me or didn't care, continuing to shimmy across the rope like he was in a Tomb Raider video game. Rick yelled at him, scrambling to the top of the platform.

"Gimme the rifle." I held my hand out, and Francine handed the weapon over without question. "Grab my belt, and whatever you do, don't let go."

I straddled the fence, leaning over to get the best vantage point while Francine desperately clung to my belt loop to keep me from falling. I could see Spencer's rope bowing, ready to snap under his weight. Suddenly the grappling hook dislodged, scrapping across the tin roof before catching on the edge of the roof. The abrupt movement of the rope caused Spencer to lose his grip, and he yelped. He clutched the rope in his hands, boots barely above the herd.

"Brace your legs against the fence," I instructed. Francine grunted, moving forward until the souls of her boots her positioned against two posts. "I'm going to lean further over."

She didn't answer, sweat dripping down her face. Her knuckles were white as she clung to my belt. She was the only thing standing between me and the herd. Tara hoped over the fence on another platform, one hand holding onto the fence, the other clutching a handgun.

The rope finally gave way, sending Spencer directly into the herd. I wasted no time firing three shots in rapid succession, killing the walkers closest to him.

"Spencer, come on!" Rick screamed, urging him to grab the rope.

Tara and I fired again and again, trying to hold off the dead. I kept firing as Rick pulled Spencer up. Tara screamed in frustration when her weapon was empty, quickly retreating back to the safety of the platform.

Spencer was almost out of danger when two walkers latched onto his ankle. The men pulled trying to free him, but the walkers wouldn't budge, steadily dragging him down. I leaned over as far as I could, Francine panting with exertion, eyes squeezed shut. I fired two shots, and the walker's heads exploded, allowing Rick to pull him to safety.

I grabbed onto the fence, hauling myself over and collapsing on the platform next to Francine. Rick was screaming at Tara, admonishing her putting her life at risk. It was only when I heard him refer to the Alexandrian's as " _these people_ " that I realized our mistake. We still viewed this community as two separate groups, us and them. I was guilty of it too. That way of thinking had to change. We were in this together. There couldn't be anymore us and them, not if we wanted to survive.

Rick turned his attention to me, unleashing a bevy of loud reprimands that made me shake my head. I didn't sit up, didn't even open my eyes. I didn't have the energy for anything more than a loud, "Fuck you!"

He didn't have a response to that.

"Are things always this...exciting?" Francine wheezed.

"It's kind of par for the course."

She hummed in agreement. "Merle's gonna be pissed."

"So let's not tell him."

"Deal," she laughed, helping me to my feet.

"Are you guys alright?"

I glanced down below into the worried eyes of Noah and Beth. I gave them a thumbs up, trying to put their minds at ease.

Beth put a hand up, shielding her eyes from the sun. "We made lunch. I'm supposed to watch Nugget later, but thought you guys could use some food."

"And rest," Noah added, giving me a look.

"I already ate."

Beth pursed her lips. "ABCs and 123s is not food." Yes it was. "Alex."

I rolled my eyes, agreeing with her because it was the lesser of two evils. The Greene daughters were not to be trifled with when they put their mind to something.

"Sounds good, just let me..." I trailed off, turning around.

I heard the sound of wood snapping, and looked around, trying to identify the source. There was an audible groan right before dust and charred pieces of wood fell from the top of the clock tower. No one else seemed to notice because just then a set of green balloons floated into the air in the distance.

"It's Glenn," Beth marveled, face lighting up. "It's Glenn!"

She looked around for her sister, but my eyes drifted back to the clock tower. It seemed like it was shaking, moving even, and I tilted my head to the side, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. A horrible cracking sound made me take a tentative step back just as a large fissure raced up the back side of the charred tower.

It seemed like it happened in slow motion. The tower swayed towards the fence, boards and shingles falling in its wake. It didn't stop. It just kept falling. It wasn't until it almost crashed through the fence that my brain kicked into overdrive.

"Go!" I yelled, pushing Francine down the ladder.

She slipped, stumbling and almost falling, but Noah and Beth raced forward helping her down. I glanced over my shoulder, heart pounding in my chest like a thoroughbred race horse. I had no time to climb down, not without risking a tower falling on my freakin' head.

"Get back!" I screamed, motioning for the three of them to run.

Just as the tower crashed through the fence I jumped, tucking into a roll when my feet hit the hard packed ground. I sprang up, snagging Beth with one hand and Francine with the other, and shoving them in front of me. Noah wrapped his arms around his fiancé, pulling her further away from the mayhem. When it was obvious we were out of time he pulled her against him, using his body as a human shield. I dove forward, tackling Francine to the ground as the tower crashed behind us with an ear-splitting bang.

Wood, dust, and debris coated our bodies, particles floating in the air making it hard to breathe. I pushed the wood planks off us, coughing as I waved a hand in front of my face. I frantically searched for Beth and Noah, finding them a few feet away, unharmed.

I heard the walkers long before I saw them. They shuffled through the opening, mindlessly flooding the community that until moments ago was safe. I jumped to my feet immediately drawing two knives. Francine stood, but then immediately fell, clutching her ankle, a pained expression on her dirty face.

"Beth, Noah, help her!"

I slashed at the first walker to reach me, taking it down, but there was already another to replace it.

"Everyone get back!" Rick ordered, firing his cannon. "Get into your houses! Go!"

There were too many to fight so I pivoted on my heel, delivering a roundhouse kick to the side of a walker's head before retreating. Beth and Noah had Francine's arms draped over their shoulders, but all three sets of eyes were locked on the herd swarming us.

"Find us somewhere to hide!" I yelled, turning around and cutting down another walker.

"Alex, go, there's too many!"

On the other side of the rubble stood Rick. His face was pale. His eyes were wide and fearful. There were walkers everywhere with more and more pouring through the hole in the fence every second. I couldn't get to him, to anyone, not without dying. Our best chance of survival was to hunker down and hope like hell the herd moved on, or at least downsized to a more manageable number. Whatever happened we'd have to face it alone.

I took a deep breath, nodding at him then pivoting on my heel and running. In no time I caught up with Noah, Beth and Francine, moving in a protective circle around them so I could keep their path clear of walkers while we searched for a sanctuary. They were boxing us in, converging on us from all sides. If they surrounded us we were dead.

"There!" Noah said, pointing at a house up ahead.

I pulled my PPQ, firing off three rounds as fast as humanly possible. "Go! Hurry!"

The two of them drug an injured Francine towards the house while I followed, clearing a path. An unsettling feeling swelled in my belly. This reminded me of the prison, of the day we lost Lori and T. I didn't let myself think about them often. It was too hard. It hurt too much. This was just like that except now I had to figure out a way to save Beth, Noah and Francine. I couldn't fail them like I'd failed Lori and T.

Pushing the grief aside I plunged my knife into a walker, letting out an anguished war cry. Quickly I pulled the knife out, twirling on the balls of my feet so I could kill another before running up the stairs to the house. I noticed the blood coating the porch and ground my teeth together. It was like a bloody welcome mat likely to draw every walker in the vicinity right to us, but we had little choice at this point.

Noah held the door open, slamming it closed the second I skidded through. Beth was with Francine on the stairs, tending to her twisted ankle.

"It won't close," Noah said, panic making his voice crack. "The door is broken. It won't close."

I swore to all things holy. Our luck was the equivalent of a bald man who just won a comb.

Noah's eyes were petrified as he frantically looked around the house. I dove for the door, ramming it with my shoulder at the exact same time the walkers pushed from the other side.

"The bookshelf!" I hollered, digging my feet in, trying to hold them off. "Tip it over!"

Beth moved with efficiency born from a woman familiar with high-stress situations. She grunted, the bookshelf legs scraping along the floor. Noah and I braced our palms flat against the door, getting ready to jump back the second the heavy piece of furniture was ready. It wouldn't stop them, but it would hopefully slow them down.

Beth heaved, and the bookshelf finally tipped over. We moved back, letting it fall in front of the door. The frame hit the wall, punching a hole in the drywall, but it blocked the entrance. The walkers snarled, pushing against the door, arms snaking through the tiny opening.

"Will it hold?" Francine asked.

I didn't get the chance to answer. A loud _thump_ came from the other side of the door, and the bookshelf bowed before splintering, allowing the door to open wider. We were standing in an $800,000 house furnished with particle board furniture. Cheap fuckers.

"Upstairs, go!" I ordered, pushing Noah towards the stairs.

"Upstairs? What's that gonna do?!" he screeched.

One problem at a time.

I grabbed Francine, helping her up the stairs. We'd just cleared the landing when the walkers busted through the barricade, flooding the house. The first two through saw us, and immediately went for the stairs.

"Hurry!" Beth cried, standing in the threshold of the master bedroom.

We ran into the room, closing the door then moving the dresser in front of it for good measure, not that it would do any good. Francine sat down on the bed massaging her swelling ankle while I surveyed the room, looking for a way out of this. There were a set of double doors that led to a small balcony. Going down wasn't an option since the yard was filled with walkers. I leaned over the railing, biting my lip as a plan formed in my head.

"What do we do?" Noah whispered, eyes locked on the door.

I came back inside, quickly searching through the closet, bathroom, and nightstands. There was a backpack in the closet and a battery powered MP3 player. I pressed the power button, grinning slightly when the digital display lit up. OK, I could work with this.

"What weapons do you have?" I asked the group.

"I've got this."

Beth held up her baton. It'd been so long since I'd seen the weapon I'd assumed it was gone. It felt like a lifetime ago that I'd given it to her in an effort to purge myself of all things Daryl. Now, I felt drawn to it, like being near it might somehow help me be closer to the man himself.

"Here."

Francine handed me a machete, and I nodded at her. It was quick thinking to pick this up despite being injured and swarmed by walkers. We all had smaller knives, and I had my PPQ, but that was it. I'd left my rifle behind on the platform in my haste.

"Alright, put everything in here." I opened the backpack, and they put the weapons in. "Here's what we're going to do." Walkers pounded on the door, nails clawing at the wood. "Noah, you're going to stand on the railing and climb on the roof. Once you're there you can help Beth and Francine up."

"We're gonna do _what_?" he yell-whispered, breathing hard. If he had a better plan I was all ears.

"The only way out is up," I explained, shoving the backpack into his arms. "We're cut off. It's this or we die."

"What do we do once we're up there?" Francine asked, nervous.

I shook my head. "Worry about that later. All that matters right now is getting out of this room."

They didn't look convinced, and that wouldn't do. They had to believe we could do this or we might as well wait to get eaten.

"Do you trust me?"

Beth stood tall, face eerily calm despite our desperation. "Yes."

She did. Fuck my life, she really did. Her confidence gave the others confidence and they nodded. I swallowed hard, hoping like hell this didn't end up getting us all killed. That wasn't something a trustworthy person let happen.

"Let's go." I led them to the balcony, gesturing to Noah. "You first. Be careful once you're up there, it's steep."

"OK."

He looked like he was going to puke as he climbed on the railing. He was tall enough it wasn't much of a reach for the roof, but it took him a solid 30-seconds to jump, dragging his tall frame up and finally out of sight. We could hear him crawling on the roof before his head popped back into view.

"I'm good." He held his hand out, gesturing to Francine. "Come on, gimme your hand."

The walkers pushed against the bedroom door, dislodging the dresser.

"They're coming through," Beth said, backing up even though there was nowhere to go. I pulled two knives, stepping back into the room. "What are you doing?"

Noah grunted as he hoisted Francine up, struggling to get her on the roof and out of imminent danger.

"Giving you a chance," I said, sliding my left foot behind my right, and raising my hands into a defensive stance.

"Beth, let's go!"

The youngest Greene sister hesitated, stuck between fleeing and helping me. I glanced at her over my shoulder, giving her a small smile.

"Go, I'll see you in a second."

She nodded though it was clear she wasn't sold. The walkers busted through the door, and that got her ass in gear. She quickly scaled the railing, Francine and Noah pulling her up. I killed three walkers before being forced to backtrack. I had no idea how many were on the second floor, but I couldn't stay here. The bedroom was too small. There was no way to maneuver without eventually making a fatal mistake.

"Alex, come on!" Noah yelled, hands reaching for me.

I put my boot in the chest of a walker, and kicked as hard as I could. He tumbled backwards, taking a few others with him. I didn't hesitate, all but jumping to the top of the railing while simultaneously reaching for Noah's hand. He better catch me or I was going to kick his skinny ass.

My hand slapped into his, and he instantly curled his long fingers around my wrist. Beth was flat on her stomach, reaching for my other hand, Francine doing her best to keep them both from sliding off the steep roof. I extended my right hand, and Beth grabbed it, pulling. Before I could sigh in relief a walker grabbed my ankle, yanking me down. I felt myself descending, and kicked my leg wildly in an effort to dislodge their hold.

"Pull!" Noah screamed, body straining.

The steel toe of my boot connected with the walker's forehead, and their grip faltered. The instant he released me I flew up the roof so fast the rough edges of the shingles scrapped across my forearms. I hissed in pain, but didn't let go until my entire body was on the roof. I lay on my belly panting, Noah and Beth an either side of me. I patted Beth's arm lightly then put my knives away, trying to catch my breath. Francine laughed, and I was instantly worried I'd broken her.

"Par for the course," she laughed, eyes watering.

Noah snorted, falling on his back, chest heaving. If she could find the humor in _this_ situation she was perfect for my brother-in-law. My stomach bottomed out when I thought of Merle. I had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive. I didn't know where anyone was, and the thought made my mouth go dry.

"We need to see if we can find the others," I said. "Let's climb to the top, and see what we see."

Noah frowned. "What does that mean?"

I shrugged, gesturing for he and Francine to go first, followed by Beth. "I have no idea."

My heart ached at the familiar redneck phrase my husband adored. There was too much happening too quickly to process. I needed a break, for things to slow down, if only for a moment. Too bad the world didn't give a flying fuck what I wanted.

Beth was almost at the top of the roof when a shingle dislodged causing her to slip. Her arms and legs flailed as she tried and failed to maintain her balance. Noah reached for her, but tripped instead. Francine lunged for him despite her bum ankle, righting him at the last second before he too fell.

Beth's scream caught in her throat making it sound more like a squeak than a scream, but the noise was enough to draw my attention. I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes going big as saucers when I saw her tumbling straight at me. I had no time to move, no time to prepare, no time to do anything other than grunt when her body collided with mine causing us both to lose our balance. We hit the roof hard, nails and shingles scrapping our skin as we slid far too fast towards the edge of the roof.

I desperately tried to stop our fall, reaching for anything that might slow us down. My green eyes locked with Beth's bright, blue eyes, and my heart stopped. She didn't look scared, not like she should, and I realized it was because she trusted me. She believed I would find a way to save us, even from this.

The edge of the roof was only a few feet away, and if the fall didn't kill us the walkers waiting below certainly would. The way we were positioned Beth would go over first with me following close behind.

I reached to my waist, pulling a knife with one hand while simultaneously reaching for Beth's outstretched hand with the other. Her fingertips brushed mine before our hands connected, and I squeezed as tight as I could before twisting around and bringing my arm down in a 180 degree arc. My knife was met with bone jarring resistance as it connected with the roof, but it was sharp enough to penetrate the shingles, digging into the thick material just as Beth went over the ledge.

Our descent was stopped so abruptly I swear all the ligaments in my shoulders were shredded instantaneously. Tears pooled in my eyes from pain as muscles pulled and stretched at unnatural angles. My upper body was pressed against the roof, my hand wrapped around the knife that was the only thing standing between life and death. Beth was dangling below me, desperately clinging to my hand with both of hers. Sweat poured down my face, making my hands slick. I felt Beth slipping. I felt my fingers uncurling from around the knife. We didn't have much time. Noah and Francine were hysterical above us, scrambling as fast as they could to our aid. Below us the walker's arms were outstretched like loved ones waiting to welcome us home.

I looked down at Beth. She was attempting to stay as still as possible, her hands impossibly tight on mine. The only sign she was scared was the slight tremble of her pale, pink lips. This was the woman Daryl described after the prison. She was a fighter, an optimist despite our hopeless circumstances. The Beth I met back at the Greene farm would have already let go off. Hell, she wouldn't have made it onto the roof. The woman whose life I literally held in my hand would never give up, ever.

"I won't let go," I promised, muscles in my shoulders burning like a raging inferno.

"I know."

We would live together or we would die together. It was what we did.

Noah finally made it safely to the ledge. He quickly assessed the situation; wordless leaning over to the point it looked like he would surely fall. He may have been terrified a few minutes ago, but now that Beth's life was on the line that fear vanished.

He wrapped his hand around Beth's arm, yelling for Francine to pull. I did my best to help, but at this point it was all I could do just to hang on. It seemed like it took forever to pull the tiny woman back to safety, but the moment her upper body was back on the roof I almost cried in relief. I let go of her hand, quickly wrapping it around the hilt of my knife, pulling myself up. Francine and Noah flanked me on either side, grabbed anything they could and tugging me firmly back on the roof.

When I was safely back on the roof I let go off the knife, tears spilling from my eyes as my muscles contracted. The muscles spasmed, forming a knot that started at the base of my neck and ended in my lower back. I panted, trying to breathe through the excruciating throbbing.

"Are you alright?" Francine asked, rolling me onto my back.

I blinked away tears, staring into the pre-dusk sky. "Gotta be."

Beth laughed and I turned my head, meeting her eyes. She held her hand out, and I gingerly place mine in it, ignoring the slight tinge of pain the action caused. She squeezed gently, her own tears falling unchecked.

"How about we try that again without the falling?" I suggested.

Noah laughed, but it quickly turned into tears. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless. The four of us carefully made our way to the rooftop. Once we were there we had a front row seat to the destruction. I sank down, cradling my right arm against my chest. Walkers were everywhere, milling about the community aimlessly. There were far too many to count, hundreds, maybe thousands. The once idyllic streets of Alexandria were now a walking graveyard.

Before today, before this, there was hope. It wasn't much, a tiny flicker even a small gust of wind could extinguish, but it was there. It was what kept us going. That was gone now. It reminded me of what T said at the prison, how it was a tomb. Alexandria felt like that now. That was how quickly everything could change. One second we were living in a sanctuary, and the next we weren't.

My eyes skimmed the walkers, looking for signs of life, but I saw none of our people. In fact, I saw no people _at all._ As far as the eye could see there was nothing but the dead. I didn't know if that gave me hope, or crushed what little I had left. Despair felt like concrete in my veins. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on this roof and let nature take its course, but I'd made a promise to these people. Lord help me, I'd promised them I would save them. I could feel their eyes on me, waiting, for me. If I broke they would too. If I gave up they would do the same.

"We're gonna make it," I whispered.

"How do you know?" Francine wasn't disagreeing. She simply needed more.

I held my head high, injected confidence into my voice I didn't feel. "Because we have to."

"It's what we do."

My eyes flew to Beth who smiled, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. We sat side-by-side, watching another place we called home go up in flames, but I felt a spark of optimism that hadn't been there before. We weren't the only ones who made it. I'd seen Rick and Deadpool running. I was fairly certain I'd caught a glimpse of Tara fleeing to safety. It didn't matter if I didn't know where they were now. Just like I knew Daryl wasn't dead I knew the others were out there, waiting, waiting for the opportunity to take this place back.

We would take it back.

We had to.

Our path may be dark, but it wasn't blocked. We'd found our way through the darkness before, and we could do it again.

There was simply no other option.

* * *

 **I liked the idea of putting this group together for these events. Since we didn't see the characters go through this, they were already dead, or they didn't exist in the first place anything was possible. I tried to come up with something different than the other characters experienced. Hopefully you enjoyed the action.**

 **What do you guys think? Next chapter a lot happens, including our fav couple reuniting.**


	63. No Easy Way Out

**No Easy Way Out**

Even the most patient person had their limit, and I was far from a patient person. The sun set roughly an hour ago. So far the walkers showed no signs of dispersing which wasn't surprising given their numbers. The dead bodies and blood on the streets wasn't exactly helping. They were clustered together in groups, shoving and pushing to get at the all-you-could-eat buffet. It could take days, if not weeks, for them to wander off on their own. We didn't have days, and we certainly didn't have weeks. We were on a roof with no shelter, no food, and no water.

"We need a plan," Noah insisted for the billionth time. "There must be some kind of way out of here."

"Said the joker to the thief," I hummed, ignoring his irritation. He'd walked right into that.

I said nothing further on the subject. I _had_ a plan. I just hadn't shared it because I knew they'd freak out. Now that it was dark there was little reason to wait. Well, if I was being honest there were a shit-ton of reasons to wait, but none of them mattered. It didn't matter I had torn muscles in my shoulder. It didn't matter I was running on fumes. It didn't matter I was poorly equipped in the weapon department. It didn't matter that walkers outnumbered us 100 to 1.

All that mattered was if we stayed here we died. Period.

A single gunshot drew the attention of the herd. They stood slowly, dropping body parts while still chewing on human flesh. The dead moved unison, drifting to the sound like a moth to a flame. I stood, ignoring the aches and pains of my body, frantically looking for the source of the shot. No one would fire a shot in a herd of walkers unless it was absolutely necessary which meant someone was in trouble.

I felt bile bubble in my throat when I saw Deadpool wildly cutting a path through the herd, Rick trailing behind with a limp body in his arms. Even at night and from this distance I could see the blood coating the person's face, Carl's face, and my knees got weak.

"Oh my god," Francine said, sucking in a harsh breath.

"Is that Carl?"

I didn't answer Beth, turning and tearing open the backpack Noah still wore. I pulled out the machete, baton, and MP3 player. I walked the perimeter of the roof, trying to find the best route. Unfortunately there wasn't a "best route" only progressively shitter routes.

"What are you doing?" Ignoring Noah I tossed the baton and machete to the ground in an area with the least amount of walkers. Then I went to the opposite side of the roof where the majority of walkers were loitering. "Are you crazy?! You just threw away our only weapons!"

"Noah," Beth said, trying to restrain him, but he shrugged off her hand.

When his fingers curled around my upper arm I whirled on him, grabbing a few fingers and bending them back, stopping just shy of snapping bone. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain, trying to find a way to relieve the pressure on his joints.

"Those are just tools," I explained, pointing at the weapons on the ground. "I'm the weapon."

"What are you going to do?"

I looked at Francine, holding up one finger. "Step one, get down."

She blanched. "And step two?"

"Fuck them up."

"Oh, well, OK then."

I turned the MP3 player on, cranking the volume as loud as it would go. I selected a song and quickly hit pause. Striding to the edge of the roof where I planned to jump down I hit play, throwing the MP3 in the opposite direction. The device hadn't even hit the ground when the first beats from the song started playing. I nodded in appreciation. That thing may be tiny, but it packed a punch.

 **Baby I'm preying on you tonight**

 **Hunt you down eat you alive**

 **Just like animals**

 **Animals**

 **Like animals-mals**

The walkers instantly started moving towards the sound. Still, a stubborn few refused to budge, lapping up blood and fighting over human remains. This was as good as it was going to get. I put my hands on Beth's shoulders, looking her dead in the eye.

"Stay here. No matter what happens, no matter what you see, stay here." She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. I pulled her closer, hugging her hard. "If anything happens...tell him..."

I couldn't finish the sentence. There were no words that could express what I felt for my husband, what he would feel if something happened to me. How did you sum up your love for someone in only a sentence?

"I will," she promised.

 **Maybe you think that you can hide**

 **I can smell your scent for miles**

 **Just like animals**

 **Animals**

 **Like animals-mals**

 **Baby I'm**

The coast was relatively clear so I got down on my stomach, sliding to the edge of the roof. There was a drainage system, a flimsy gutter, attached to the edge of the roof and snaking down the side of the house ending at an underground French drain. The boxy metal attached to the house by concrete screws wasn't very wide, or very sturdy. It was a struggle to wedge a few fingers around the gutter while digging the toe of my boot on the rough brick wall. I managed to use a set of screws as a crimp, three fingers balancing on a ledge the width of a credit card.

"Is that gonna hold her?" I paused, glaring at Noah. "Sorry, my bad, I'm sure you'll be fine."

 **So what you trying to do to me**

 **It's like we can't stop, we're enemies**

 **But we get along when I'm inside you, eh**

 **You're like a drug that's killing me**

 **I cut you out entirely**

 **But I get so high when I'm inside you**

I rolled my eyes, returning my attention to the climb. I pushed and pressed with everything I had, knowing one wrong move, one slip, and it was over. I tried not to think about all the ways this could go wrong. Instead, I focused on Carl, on Rick, on Deadpool. They needed help.

Slowly I started my descent, selecting each foot and hand hold with care. The sharp screws cut into the tips of my fingers, and my boots, not meant for climbing, slipped more than once.

I was about halfway down when the first screw dislodged from the house. The delicate metal bowed under my weight, and I felt myself tipping backwards. I scrambled for something to hold onto, anything, but the smooth surface of the house was equivalent to granite. There was nothing to grab, nothing to stand on, just...nothing.

Fuck slow and careful, it was time to haul ass. My only option was to try to slide down the gutter as fast as I could in order to beat it to the ground. I looped my feet around it, continuing down in little more than a controlled free fall.

 **Yeah you can start over you can run free**

 **You can find other fish in the sea**

 **You can pretend it's meant to be**

 **But you can't stay away from me**

 **I can still hear you making that sound**

 **Taking me down rolling on the ground**

 **You can pretend that it was me**

 **But no, oh**

The next groan of metal caught the attention of a few walkers. They diverted their course, opting for me instead of the MP3 player. I wasn't far from the ground when the gutter finally detached from the house completely, and I flew backwards. I had no idea why I held onto the drain. It wasn't like it would to do any good, but it made me feel better so I went with it.

My back impacted the ground first. The crash was so hard, so jarring, I saw stars for a second. It was like someone hit a mute button. I no longer heard walkers, or the hysterical shouts of those still on the roof. All I could hear was my pounding heart. I shook my head, trying to dull the ringing in my ears, and regain control of my shaking limbs.

"Alex! Move!" Beth screamed.

The three of them were hollering from the roof, jumping around and waving their arms in an attempt to draw the walkers away from me.

 **Baby I'm preying on you tonight**

 **Hunt you down eat you alive**

 **Just like animals**

 **Animals**

 **Like animals**

I rolled onto my side slowly, then all fours, and finally to my feet. My head felt woozy and I my blurry vision caused me to blinked repeatedly, but there was no time for woozy. I picked up the baton, snapping my right hand out to extend the weapon. When I reached down for the machete my back contracted painfully and I groaned.

Standing I searched for Rick and Deadpool, and saw them bolting up the stairs to the infirmary. I blew a few strands of hair out of my eyes, rolling my shoulders as I readied myself for the fight of my life. I let out a long, slow breath, allowing every emotion I'd bottled up over the last two days to boil to the surface. All the fear, the anger, the despair I'd ignored poured out of my soul like a pot overflowing, racing through my veins. I used it as fuel. I was tired of playing defense, of reacting, of waiting. I was tired of pretending to be something I wasn't. Tonight, I stopped pretending.

I bared my teeth, snarling at the walkers closing in on me. The world around me faded away until it was nothing but me and the dead. A hot burning anger made my skin burn, a biological button that was better left untouched. This was the most primal part of myself, the part I pretended didn't exist. The part of myself I only acknowledged in the direst of situations.

I opened myself up to it, let it take over. A familiar sense of calm settled into my core pushing the swirling chaos of the world to the background. The vibrant colors surrounding me were discolored, leaving behind a muted color palette of grays and blacks. Adrenaline inundated my body making my heart beat erratically. I didn't wait for the walkers to reach me. Instead, I took the fight to them.

When I was within reach I slashed with the machete and bludgeoned with the baton. Walker blood splashed across my face and body, the dead dropping like flies as I plowed through them. I didn't stop, didn't slow, didn't tire. I didn't feel anything, but the need kill. I moved forward with vicious intent, slaughtering anything and everything in my path.

I weaved my way through the walkers, dancing around their outstretched hands and razor sharp teeth. I slashed and swung my weapons only to jump out of their reach at the last second. A maniacal laugh slipped from my lips, and I was lucid enough to know it wasn't the healthiest reaction. I hadn't done anything like this since the prison, and my body relished the release. I couldn't lie to myself. It felt good, maybe _too good_ , but I'd worry about that later, when our community wasn't swarmed with walkers and my loved ones were safe.

Before I even realized it I was in front of the infirmary, but I faltered at the base of the steps. A part of me was scared of what I would find if I walked through that door. My husband was missing, my family was in danger, and our home was overrun. I couldn't handle anything else, couldn't handle someone telling me the boy I loved was gone. So instead I stayed outside. Killing was safe. Killing was easy.

A walker lunged for me, and I grabbed a handful of his hair, wrenching his head back until it snapped clean off his neck. Well, that was new. He may not have a body, but he was still very much a walker. His mouth opened and closed making a horrible snapping sound as he tried to bite me. Not gonna lie, that shit creeped me out. I threw the head at a walker a few feet from me, hitting her square in the face.

I felt someone creeping up behind me, and spun around, machete poised to strike. Rick's dull, lifeless eyes stared back at me. He looked destroyed, and the mere thought of why was too much to stomach. I couldn't accept that, not now, probably not ever. He didn't say anything, and I didn't ask. The two of us silently turning back-to-back, doing the only thing we could right now.

I heard him crying as he swung the axe repeatedly, but didn't dare take my mind off the task at hand. I screamed, cutting the head off a walker, then another, and another, and another. I snapped the baton across a walker's face, removing the top portion of her head. Her body dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Rick's strangled gasp from behind made goosebumps break out on my skin. I twirled around, springing into action without even thinking. I pushed the machete through the eye of a walker on his right while simultaneously hitting another with the baton. He stood completely still, eyes wide, breathing hard. He offered me a silent nod of thanks.

Suddenly it wasn't just the two of us.

Deadpool arrived in all her samurai glory followed by Aaron, Spencer, and Heath. We formed a small circle, working to expand it by killing walkers. I didn't need help, but was glad to have someone else watching Rick's back. He wasn't on top of his game, and I couldn't kill this many walkers _and_ keep him safe.

Slowly, others joined, leaving the safety of their houses to fight for their community. The more people that arrived the more hope I felt that we might prevail. This would change everything. After tonight there would be no more us and them. There would only be us.

"Knock 'em down!" Rick urged, "Drive 'em away!"

How he had the lung capacity for cheering was beyond me. I drove the machete into the temple of a walker, grabbing Spencer's shirt and pulling him to safety. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand.

"Save it."

I saw Goggles and Eric run out of a house, charging towards us like a pair of Silverback gorillas. I wasn't sure either of them were up to the task, but tonight they'd have to be. Talk about trial by fire.

"We can do this! We can beat them!" Rick screamed, our numbers steadily growing. "Alex, left side!"

I didn't hesitate, switching directions and decimating the walker population in front of Goggles and Eric. They stepped back, content to let me handle it. Right now I was a hammer, and everything was a nail.

"Aagh!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, beating a walker to death with the baton, and then beating him some more. When I finally stopped there wasn't a single inch of me that was coated in gore, and the walker at my feet was unrecognizable. I eyed the remaining walkers, chest heaving. "Come on you bastards! Come and get me!"

"Michonne, stay with her!"

I wouldn't realize until much, much later that Rick was talking about me. All around me I heard grunting, the sound of knives slicing into flesh, and melee weapons pounding brittle bones to dust. I could have sworn I even saw Gabby mixing it up, but was too far gone to be sure.

I stomped on the head of a walker, feeling bits of brain and bone splash against my pant leg. In my distraction a walker snuck up on me. I barely saw the bony arms devoid of human flesh before I dove out of the way. I rolled quickly, jumping to my feet, machete already arching towards my target.

"Firecracker, get back here!"

Somewhere deep down I relaxed at the sound of my brother-in-law's voice. I knew he would be fine, but hearing his voice was a huge relief.

The sound of gunshots at the front gate caught my attention, but there were far too many walkers to even attempt going that way. Whoever was there was on their own, but just as suddenly the gunfire went from sporadic shots to semi-automatic bursts. My heart was beating so fast I was certain I was going to have a heart attack. The only people who had automatic weapons were Sasha and Ariel. If they were at the front gate there was a good chance Daryl was with them.

The thought gave me renewed purpose, and with it, a surge of energy. There was nothing, and I do mean nothing, that was going to stand between me and the possibility of finding my husband. I stalked forward, beating the walkers back, reducing them to nothing but goo at my feet.

"On your left!" Deadpool screamed.

I didn't hesitate, twirling to my left while swinging the baton. The weapon sunk into the walkers head with a bone jarring thump.

"Push forward!" I encouraged, cutting a path through the dead.

I was lethal by myself, but with Deadpool by my side we were the human equivalent of a nuclear bomb. The problem was the sheer number of walkers. They were overwhelming us, pressing in from all sides and driving us back despite our efforts. With a fence directly behind us it wouldn't be long until there was nowhere left to run.

Aaron stumbled beside me, and I kicked a walker in the chest, driving him back so I could pull the man to safety. His face was pale and sweaty; eyes fearful as he watched the insurmountable number of walkers headed our way. He didn't think we could win. He looked around and saw nothing but defeat. To him this was the final nail in our coffin, but I knew better. Times like these were when we were at our best. It was when our backs were against the wall, vultures circling overhead, that we achieved the unachievable.

It was what we did.

Deadpool slashed with her sword, taking down walkers two at a time. I looked Aaron square in the eyes, holding out my hand, offering him a choice. There was no easy way out of this. If we wanted this place we were going to have to fight for it. If he wanted to live he was going to have to get up and make it happen. He stared at me, swallowing hard before firmly slapping his hand in mine. I pulled him up, and he wasted no time shouting a war cry, and stabbing the closest walker.

"Move it! Back up! All right, that's it! Don't let up!"

I'd say this for Rick, he had stamina. I couldn't have talked right now if my life depended on it. Hell, I was having a hard time converting oxygen to carbon dioxide. I was talking to Deadpool when this was all over. A man who could chat while fighting for their life was a man she needed to take for a test drive. She owed that to women everywhere.

Just when our backs were quite literally against the wall a brilliant ball of light exploded in the distance. The fireball was enormous, the white-hot flames spreading faster than the eye could track. I had no idea what caused it, but I was self-aware enough to admit I was jealous. That was a serious explosion. It was also sexy as hell.

The walkers in front of us turned in unison, attracted to the flames. Rick screamed to keep going, all of us fighting through exhaustion and injury, desperation and sadness, trying to retake our home.

The dead mindlessly advanced towards the raging fire. We followed them, killing the ones who lagged behind. I could already see the first few willingly walking into the inferno, their bodies catching fire instantly. One-by-one they stumbled into the dancing flames, and for the first time since this started it felt like we might actually pull this off. Everyone else felt it too. We were close.

It wasn't until I turned, looking around for a walker to kill that I realized it _was_ over. There was nothing left to kill. All around me there were only friendly faces. I stood in a daze, unable to relax because the one face I wanted to see, _needed to see_ , still eluded me. I couldn't handle this. If he wasn't here...just no.

Deadpool and Rick shared a look, the latter squeezing her hand briefly before glancing at me over his shoulder. He looked almost happy which was strange. What in the world was there to be happy about? The two of them stepped apart, and the weapons I was holding slipped from my hands. He walked forward, silhouetted by the raging fire in the pond, looking every bit like an avenging angel.

I don't remember falling to my knees, or when I started crying, but I felt the hot tears on my cheeks. My knees dug into the rough pavement, my shoulders slumping in relief. Huge, quaking sobs made my body shake as relief the likes of which I'd never experienced assaulted me.

He closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, and then he was there, kneeling in front of me. He held my face in his hands, tipping it back. He studied me carefully, eyes apprehensive, body tight with worry. I was suddenly self-conscious. I must look like something out of a horror movie, but he didn't seem to mind. While he studied me I took the time to examine him as well. He had some dried blood on his hands, and a small cut on his forehead, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"You're late," I said, laughing like a lunatic. He flashed me his signature half-smile, half-smirk, and I swear, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Yeah, well, traffic was a real bitch." My laughter quickly turned to tears. "Ya a'right Red?"

"Gotta be." He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the real answer. "I jumped off a roof."

Better for him to think I jumped rather than fell.

"Course ya did."

"I also blew up a house."

The corners of his lips twitched. "Pulled a Terminus?"

"Yeah, well, you have a rocket launcher so that kinda feels like second place."

I was _sooo_ jealous.

He wrapped me in his arms despite the gore covering me. I offered up a weak protest at best. I wanted to be held by him as much as he wanted to hold me. When I squeezed him harder he groaned in pain. I pulled back, not even bothering to ask questions, instead pulling his vest aside, looking for the damage.

"Motherfucker," I hissed, probing the wound in his shoulder. "This is a knife wound. Who do I need to kill?"

"Ain't nothin'." He swatted my hand away dismissively. "Sides, sumbitch is already dead."

They got off easy. What I had in mind would need to be picked up with a vacuum cleaner.

"Damn straight."

With reunions done and the walkers dead we solemnly made our way to the infirmary. Deadpool filled us in on the basics of what happened to Carl, and I felt genuine panic for the first time since The Wolves attacked. The closer we got to Denise's house the more my mind filled with every awful outcome. I was so lost in my own head I didn't notice Beth until she was on top of us.

"Alex." The younger woman crashed into me, and I almost cried it hurt so badly. "Thank god you're alright."

"Why aren't you guys on the roof?" I asked, patting her back before gently extracting myself from her hold.

"You said you'd be back," Noah added, looking at me expectantly.

I never said that, but I got where he was coming from. I didn't see Francine, and my stomach clenched in apprehension. Did something happen to her? I'd never forgive myself if Merle's girlfriend died on my watch.

I found her licking Merle's face, and legitimately almost tossed my cookies right then and there. I'd pulled a walker's brain clean from their skull tonight without batting an eyelash, but that little display of PDA was liable to kill me.

"Get a room!" I hollered, cheeks puffing out as I tried to swallow puke.

Merle glared at me, arm around Francine's waist as he held her close. "And here I was shittin' my pants when I saw ya hangin' off the roof like walker bait with lil' Greene."

I waved my hands wildly, ignoring the pain in my shoulders, trying to stop him, but it was too late. The damage was done. Daryl's nostrils flared, head turning slowly, so slowly it was freaky. His blue eyes blazing with questions I had no intention of answering.

"Hangin' off a roof?"

"I wasn't so much hanging as I was dangling somewhat precariously while holding onto another person." He stared at me, face blank, but the way he ground his teeth together made it clear he was less than thrilled. "I told you I jumped off a roof."

He licked his lips slowly. "Didn't mention the hangin' part."

Because I had no intention of ever telling him.

"Dangling," I corrected.

Most people decided to wait outside the infirmary on the porch while those in need of medical care went inside. I would have been fine outside, my injuries far from life-threatening, but Daryl didn't ask, locking my hand in his and leading us in. I got my fair share of "looks" when we stepped inside, and I fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to hide behind my husband. I knew what I looked like, and I knew what I'd done. I didn't want to deal with either right now. Daryl didn't give a rat's ass, glaring at anyone who stared for too long until they diverted their eyes while leading us to the last empty spot in the joint.

"What happened?" Denise asked us, looking more confident than I'd ever seen her.

I was proud of her. A few days ago she was ready to call it quits, and now here she was doin' the damn thang.

"He got stabbed."

"She jumped off a roof."

Denise looked between us, trying to prioritize our injuries.

"Stab wound first." She pointed at the table, eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for Daryl to comply. He begrudgingly sat down, pulling off his vest. "You, get cleaned up. I can't treat your injuries if I can't see them."

I smiled at Daryl, taking the towel she offered, and wandering over to Deadpool. She was holding Nugget, singing softly to the little girl who was almost asleep. I could hear Rick in the next room, talking to Carl, but what made me drag a hand down my face was the sound of him crying.

I didn't want to think about what would happen if Carl didn't make it, what life would be like for those of us left behind. That was the hardest part. Death was easy. It was living that was difficult. I envied the dead, the finality of it, the certainty. It was a comfort I'd never known in my life.

At one time of another death would come for us all, but that didn't scare me. What kept me up at night was the fear that when my time came I wouldn't be ready. My list of things I needed to atone for was never-ending. I was terrified when it was all said and done I would have taken far more than I gave. That wasn't something I could live with.

"How is he?" I asked, leaning against the wall.

"He was shot in the eye." Her voice broke, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Jesse's son pulled a gun on him. I...I killed him, but he..."

"Hey, this isn't your fault."

She sniffled, "Denise did what she could. She said he's stable, unconscious, but stable. All we can do now is wait. The next 24-hours will be critical."

I squeezed her hand, offering the only thing I could, my support. Nugget cooed, reaching for me, and I lightly kissed her cheek. I was too disgusting to hold the tiny human.

"Alex, I'm ready for you," Denise announced.

Now that things had calmed down all my aches and pains came roaring to life. The short walk to the table felt like a grueling marathon. My eyes were growing heavier with each passing second, and my stomach rumbled. It'd been close to 48-hours since I'd slept, and I felt every second of it right now.

Denise started working the moment I sat down, inspecting and cleaning cuts, applying bandages as needed. By the time she was done I looked like a mummy, my forearms wrapped in gauze from my wrist to my elbow. When she raised my right arm to tape the last of the bandages I grunted, hunching forward, hissing between clenched teeth.

"Alex?"

"Red?"

Daryl took a step closer, eyes pinched in concern. Denise released my arm, carefully lowering it. I took a measured breath, waiting for the pain to ease.

"What is it?"

I kept my eyes closed and head bowed as I answered, "My shoulder. I think I pulled some muscles, maybe hyperextended it."

She hummed, probing the area with her fingers. "I'm going to do some test. Tell me if it gets too painful."

It was too painful just sitting here.

"Raise your arm straight up, as high as you can." I moved my arm away from my chest until it was horizontal with the ground, and stopped, blinking away tears. "Hmm..."

She continued to twist and turn the joint, occasionally doing some resistance tests. Daryl stood nearby, biting his nails down to the quick, a bundle of redneck nerves. Denise pressed on my shoulder from the back and front simultaneously and I yelped, practically jumping off the table to get away from her.

"What's wrong with her?" Daryl questioned, having a difficult time seeing me in pain.

She didn't answer, continuing to examine me. She requested I move and bend this way and that, all while I swallowed down bile. By the time she was done I was crying, and didn't care. My husband looked ready to explode. Was it physically possible for steam to come out of someone's ears?

"I don't think you tore the muscles, but without an MRI there's really no way to tell." Well, guess we'd never know. "I'm going to put you in a sling. You need to rest. I'm going to give you some anti-inflammatory medication that will help with the swelling. When you're feeling better we can start physical therapy. Hopefully, in a few weeks you'll be as good as new."

"Lovely," I said, cradling my arm against my chest.

"Are you feeling any adverse effects from the explosion?"

"Define adverse?"

"Nausea, dizziness when standing, disorientation, headaches, that sort of thing."

My body felt like it'd been put through a meat grinder, but I didn't have any of the symptoms she was describing. There was nothing wrong with me sleep couldn't fix.

"No."

She nodded, biting her lip. "OK, if that changes come back immediately."

I opened my mouth to lie, but Daryl cut me off. "She will."

"You know, now that you mention it, I am feeling an incredible pain in my ass," I smiled, looking pointedly at the disgruntled redneck.

Denise chuckled as Daryl pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. Once I had my sling we set up shop in the hallway. Despite the exhaustion and pain I wasn't leaving until we knew if Carl was going to pull through.

Daryl and I took the time to quietly exchange stories. I told him about The Wolves attacking, the semi that crashed into the clock tower, and the horn that drew half the herd straight to us. I glossed over the part about blowing up the house, but still his shoulders tensed. I rolled my eyes, pulling his thumb away from his mouth. If he kept biting he was going to be down a digit.

I continued, telling him about the clock tower crumbling, smashing our walls and flooding the town with walkers. He listened intently while I described trying to save Noah, Beth, and Francine from the walkers. How I saw Rick carrying a limp Carl in his arms while Deadpool frantically tried to clear a path through the herd. I didn't tell him about slaughtering the walkers because in all honesty, I didn't remember much. My memories were disjointed, like snap shots I was having a hard time piecing together. It felt like it'd happened to someone else.

When I was done he silently took my hand, interlacing our fingers and resting his head on the wall.

Now it was his turn to tell me how he left Sasha and Abraham the moment he found out we were in trouble. I heard the shame in his voice, though whether it was for leaving them or not coming back I didn't know. He made the right decision staying with them, and I squeezed his hand to let him know.

He tapped his head on the wall, eyes distant as he talked about trying to lead what was left of the herd away only to be ambushed. How a group took him hostage. How he subsequently escaped, and went back to help them only to have them betray him in the end. They took his bike and crossbow, leaving him with nothing but bandages and a shitty apology. He admitted he should have killed them when he had the chance, and I swallowed the knee-jerk reaction to agree with him.

I wasn't so sure.

What Daryl did wasn't so different than what Morgan had done when the Wolves attacked. We needed that, if we were ever going to move passed the malevolence of this world, we needed people like Daryl and Morgan. We needed people who could make the hard choices some of us couldn't. Someone had to have the integrity to choose the hard right instead of the easy wrong.

I didn't want to live in a world where there was no mercy.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, fighting to stay awake while he told me about the group that tried to hijack them on their way back. The man called himself Negan, and threatened to kill them all so he blew them up with a rocket launcher.

Admittedly, sometimes mercy wasn't the answer. Sometimes the answer was a rocket launcher to the forehead.

Rick stumbled into the threshold of the door, calling for Denise, and my stomach clenched nervously. He was breathing hard, crying, and I waited for him to say the words I didn't want to hear, but he surprised us when he smiled.

"He woke up," he cried, "He's asleep now, or maybe he's unconscious, but he woke up, looked at me...he...he squeezed my hand."

Denise exhaled harshly, nodding. "That's good news. I'll go check him out, but I'm cautiously optimistic."

Cautiously optimistic wasn't as good as absolutely certain, but I'd take it. Deadpool sobbed, pulling Nugget closer while Rick pressed his forehead against hers. The pair shared a few hushed whispers, cradling Nugget between them. They made a cute couple. If that's what they were.

"Sleep Red."

* * *

 **Big chapter...lots of action, lots of emotion, lots of resolution. Are we thrilled Alex and Daryl are back together? :)**

 **I know we are moving towards Hilltop and eventually The Saviors, but I have a little break planned for the next chapter. I'm really hoping you enjoy it.**

 **Until next time...**


	64. This Love

**This Love**

Sometimes when you woke up after a night of heavy drinking you felt wonderful. There was no raging headache or debilitating nausea. There was only a feeling of euphoria. What you don't immediately realize was there's a catch. There's _always_ a catch.

There was a reason you felt amazing, and that reason was because you were still drunk. The hangover that was likely going to kill you was simply toying with you, lulling you into a false sense of security, waiting for the right time to strike.

This was _not_ one of those times.

Prying my face off the floor was no small task. My body ached, and my mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. If I could move my arms I'd cradle my pounding head. It felt like an elephant was doing the merengue directly on my cerebellum while singing a show tune at the top of their lungs. To add insult to what felt like very serious injury the sunlight streaming through the blinds was searing my corneas causing what was left of my brain to bleed out through my ears. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my blurry, watery eyes. My stomach swam, bile bubbling in my parched throat, but I swallowed it down with a pain filled groan.

Deadpool was on the floor to my right, sprawled on her back, a cup still perched upright in her hand. Carol was passed out on the couch, half her body hanging over the edge, knuckles dragging on the floor. Maggie was curled up on the window seat, face plastered against the glass, drool slowly dripping down the pane, her heavy panting fogging up the glass. Francine was somehow curled up on the coffee table that was much too small for such an accomplishment, snoring so loud it was likely to shatter the window Maggie was using as a pillow. Tara and Denise were curled around each other in front of the fireplace, both covered in mud, dirt, and...glitter? Sasha was sitting at the kitchen island, face down, arms limp at her side, surrounded by a beer can pyramid. Apocalypse Barbie was in the hallway bathroom, body curled around the toilet. She was naked save her pale, pink bra and panties. Beth was on my other side, still blissfully unconscious, a homemade, bedazzled, glittery tiara sitting perched atop her blonde head.

What in the actual fuck?

The living room reminded me of the morning after in the movie The Hangover. There were bottles quite literally everywhere. I even spotted one perched on the fancy chandelier hanging overhead. There were empty cans of food covering the coffee table, and for some inexplicable reason there were feathers all over the floor.

The furniture had clearly been rearranged, a couch blocking the stairs, and all the kitchen chairs save the one Sasha was sleeping in stacked up like a fort, but I was at a loss as to why. There were three knives embedded in the wall beside the fireplace, a crude circle drawn in marker around the weapons complete with almost illegible numbers.

All we were missing was a jungle cat in the bathroom.

Bits and pieces of last night floated through my stuffy mind. Beth's was getting married, tonight. We'd decided to send her into married life with a proper bachelorette party. I'd promised Rick a relatively low-key night free from debauchery. Something told me bullet holes in the sofa wasn't low-key.

"Morning."

I grabbed my head in my hands, letting my forehead rest against the cool, wood floor. I took a slow, deep breath, eyes squeezed shut as I tried to ride out the urge to puke on Rick's high heels. Why was the room spinning and how did I get off the ride?

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry, not even a little. He knelt next to me, Nugget in his arms, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Not feeling so good?"

I ignored the question because the answer was obvious. "How bad?"

Rick clucked his tongue, adjusting the little girl that was reaching for my hair. "We decided to step in when you started playing darts." Darts? That didn't sound so bad. Darts was definitely low-key. "With knives."

Well, that explained the knives in the wall.

"Did I win?"

He snorted, "No, your aim is shit when you're drunk. You threw one through the window, and hit the house next door."

Go big or go home.

Carol stirred, or more accurately jolted suddenly, and fell off the edge of the couch. She groaned when she hit the floor, but didn't attempt to get up. The noise roused Maggie who went from dead asleep to wide awake and on her feet in under a second flat. What worried me was her face. It was a disturbing shade of green. I needed the cure. Maggie needed a preggie pop, or a time machine to take her seven months into the future.

"Rick, can you mix vodka, tomato juice, and a little bit of Tabasco sauce in a cup," I murmured.

Maggie's eyes bulged and she slapped a hand over her mouth, running for the bathroom. She stepped on Tara and Denise in her haste, all but throwing Apocalypse Barbie into the bathtub before shoving her head in the toilet, and hurling her guts out. She was getting the crap end of the deal. Since she was pregnant she couldn't enjoy the euphoria of being drunk, but still got the downside, puking in the morning.

"Yeah, it's not for everyone," I admitted, rolling onto my back.

The basement door opened, Merle and Daryl walking into the living room, amusement dancing in their identical blue eyes.

"Rise n' shine ladies!" Merle shouted.

I covered my ears with two pillows, continuing with my post-hangover breathing exercises. Francine moaned then threw an empty can of beans at his head in retaliation. She was going to fit in just fine in this family.

I felt the distinctive clomp of Daryl's boots vibrating on the wood floor. He stopped next to me, and I looked up at him. He had his hands on his hips, and a smirk on his gorgeous face.

"Honey, I'm home," I said, trying to smile without vomiting.

He shook his head. "Yeah, ya woke us up in the middle of the night to tell us."

That sounded like something I'd do.

"What else happened?"

Ariel opened the front door, making a point to slam it shut so hard it sent Tara and Denise scurrying to the bathroom. Since Maggie was giving herself a swirlie they were forced to puke in the tub, much to Apocalypse Barbie's vocal protests.

"I'll say one thing my homicidal friend, your strip tease is up there with the best of them."

I dropped the pillows, frowning. Strip tease? What the hell was he talking about?

It was right about _then_ I realized I wasn't wearing pants. It was also right about then that Daryl threw a blanket over me. He scowled at Ariel, muttering something about looking away or else which only made the hulking red-head laugh harder.

"Tell me I didn't..." I didn't have the dignity to finish that sentence.

"Hell yeah ya did Firecracker. Went after Darlina like a rabid animal. Had yur pants off b'fore anyone could stop ya."

I pulled the blanket over my head. "Oh my god."

"Will you all shut the fuck up," Deadpool moaned, not moving an inch. Up until this point I was convinced she was dead.

There was a light knock on the door, and Noah stuck his head through the crack. "Is it safe?"

"Depends on yur definition of safe," Merle cackled causing Sasha to sit up abruptly, knocking the beer can pyramid to the floor.

"What? How? Where?" she stuttered, eyes foggy, face slack. I was pretty sure she was still asleep and drunk.

Ariel took pity on her, guiding her out of the kitchen. If he was a real gentleman he'd kill her and end her misery. Beth was the only person still out cold, the bride to be showing no signs of waking anytime this century. We may have to delay the wedding a day...or 12.

Noah leaned over his bride, even poking her a few times, but she didn't stir. He tilted his head to the side, scratching his head. "Is she wearing a tiara?"

"Alex and Michonne made it," Carol answered, still lying on the floor beside to the couch. "Be glad it isn't in the shape of a penis."

Who was wearing a dick shaped tiara?

I glanced at Deadpool who looked about as good as I felt. Her eyes drifted to the top of my head, and she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She thought that was hilarious until I did the same. Her hand flew to her head, fingers tracing the outline of a crudely shaped penis made out of a coat hanger.

"Wanna go shower?" Daryl asked.

No, not really. I wanted to curl up and sleep for 48-hours. I agreed solely because the floor was killing my back, and I needed pants, eventually. Daryl helped me up, making a point to keep the blanket firmly wrapped around my lower body.

The walk to our room felt like a death march. My head was expanding past the limits of my skull, and I was almost positive something died in my mouth. Daryl led me directly into the bathroom, stripping off what was left of my clothes while I stood still and tried not to die.

The hot shower felt divine though standing was far too difficult. Instead I sat on the floor, soap, shampoo and conditioner, razor, shaving cream, and anything else I needed within arm's reach. I'd been done for roughly 10-minutes when Daryl opened the shower door, peering down at me.

"Gonna stay in there all day?"

"Maybe." Probably.

His lips twitched. "Gotta get movin' Red. Lots to do b'fore tonight."

He was right, of course. We all had to get our final fitting for our dress courtesy of Goggles, hair done courtesy of Francine, and even our makeup courtesy of Apocalypse Barbie. The mere thought of such primping was almost too much to comprehend. I never thought I'd get dressed up ever again.

My husband took the liberty of turning off the water, waiting for me to stand on my own. When I didn't he lifted me up, wrapping me in a towel, and depositing me on the bed.

"I'm never drinking again," I promised, resting my head on his shoulder.

He rubbed my back. "Ya party like a rock star, but sure as hell don't recover like one."

The best cure for a hangover was being under the age of 25-years-old.

"There's a solid chunk of time I can't account for."

"Do ya 'member tryin' to climb on the roof?" No. "Tara and Denise havin' a mud wrestlin' contest?" Nuh-uh. "What 'bout tryin' to teach 'em how to make a bomb outta household goods?" Nope.

"The last thing I remember is giving Beth her tiara."

He looked genuinely concerned. "That was in the beginnin' of the night."

Thought so.

By the time we got upstairs Rick and Carl had a hangover breakfast buffet laid out on the island. Daryl poured me a cup of coffee before sitting down and inhaling a plate of eggs. The eggs made me cringe so I settled for nibbling on a piece of dry toast, and praying it didn't make a second appearance.

"Here."

Rick doled out Tylenol to everyone. I accepted the two white pills, swallowing them down with a slurp of piping hot coffee. I felt somewhat more human when I finished the toast and coffee, but it was going to be a long freakin' day.

"Can you stand up straight?" I scowled at Goggles, dragging my teeth across my lips, and telling myself not to stab her. "Please."

I complied because the sooner we got this over with the better. Goggles worked diligently to finish adjusting the black sequin dress. Though I'd never admit it I loved it. It had an old Hollywood feel to it with a cowl back and detailed high neckline. The matte sequins glittered in the light, and the cap sleeves offered the perfect finishing touch to the classic floor-length gown.

When the community heard about Noah and Beth's wedding they were overjoyed. We needed something good to focus on. It was pure luck one of the houses in the community belonged to a seamstress once upon a time. It was jammed packed full of tuxedos, suits, evening gowns, and even a wedding dress.

Finding the rest of what we needed to pull off the wedding was relatively easy. We were using Gabby's place for the ceremony, and subsequent reception. The kids at the school made decorations, and we had plenty of flowers at our disposal inside the walls. Aaron and Eric were handling the catering, and Merle, god help us, was in charge of music.

With my turn thankfully over I watched Beth standing there in her wedding gown, a bright smile on her face. Maggie stood at her side, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. In that moment the world felt a little less tragic. If we could have days like today then maybe, just maybe, we could re-build this world.

Deadpool swiped at her eyes and I turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Are you crying?"

"I got something in my eye," she countered, angling her face away from me.

"I didn't know you had tear ducts."

She shoved my shoulder, half-laughing, half-crying. "Shut up."

We spent the rest of the day primping. My hair was pulled, fluffed, and spritzed to within an inch of its life, or more appropriately within an inch of Francine's life. I fell asleep while Apocalypse Barbie was applying my makeup much to her vocal disapproval. The sun was setting when I finally made it back to our room to get dressed.

I quickly changed into my dress, grumbling to myself the entire time. The outfit didn't allow for such trivial things like a bra and underwear. This put a whole new spin on _going commando_. I finished the look by slipping into a pair of three-inch heels, and studied myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked like the Cinemax version of myself.

My hair was twisted and pinned, sitting low at the base of my neck with strands deliberately hanging loose around my face. Apocalypse Barbie applied my makeup with a fairly heavy hand, but looking at the finished product it was light and flawless. My eyes stood out, dramatic eyeliner, mascara, and sparkling eye shadow making my green eyes stand out. My cheeks were dusted in rouge, and my lips were shiny and understated in a pale, pink lipstick. I put on the fake diamond earrings and bracelet Maggie gave me earlier to complete the look.

I felt nervous as I climbed the stairs to the main level. It'd been a long time since I'd gotten dressed up, and honestly, all those other times weren't for pleasure. They were work. I sincerely hoped tonight didn't end like those nights. Killing people in these heels wasn't easy.

I stepped into the living room, fiddling with the black clutch Tara was making me carry even though there wasn't anything in it except knives and spare ammo. A chair scraped across the floor, and I glanced up. My mouth dropped open, a zing of awareness hitting me in my no-no spot. I wasn't ashamed to admit I almost passed out.

Daryl was standing outside the kitchen, hand on his chest, mouth slightly open, eyes huge as he stared at me. I knew he planned to wear a suit, all the men did, but seeing was turning out to be a very pleasurable experience.

It was all black, the pants, the shirt, even the tie, but on him it worked. Oh man, did it work. His hair was freshly washed, and even combed, the strands obediently framing his gorgeous face for once. He hadn't shaved, but the short, rough stubble covering his jawline gave the polished look just the right amount of edginess to make me weak in the knees. He looked so damn hot it made me dizzy. It also made me want to skip the wedding, and head back downstairs. I knew other people were in the room, but I only had eyes for my husband.

He took a step forward, eyes never straying from my face. I stood frozen, watching him approach. It felt like the blood in my veins was sizzling. It felt like someone cranked the heater in the house, but the heat I felt building had nothing to do with central heating. It was the smokin' hot redneck that was standing in front of me. His eyes finally strayed from my face, quickly surveying my body down to my black, strappy heels. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing up-and-down as he drug his gaze back to my face.

"Red..." He stumbled over his words, shaking his head and rubbing a hand roughly over his jaw. "Yur..."

I took his hand in mine, smiling. "You too Katniss."

His shoulders relaxed, and he stepped closer, a hand drifting to the base of my neck. "Yur so damn beautiful it hurts."

Before I could respond he brushed his lips tenderly across mine. It was over just as soon as it started, just a promise of things to come. I felt my stomach clench in anticipation, and bit my lip, looking up at him through my lashes.

"If ya two are done gettin' to first base can we get this show on the road?" Merle drawled lazily from somewhere in the kitchen.

Daryl stepped to my side, his hand never leaving mine. Rick and Deadpool were already walking out the door, the former guiding the samurai out of the house with his hand at the small of her back. I smothered a smirk, hoping those two figured things out, tonight, twice.

Merle was making googly eyes at Francine who was blushing so badly it didn't look healthy. My brother-in-law was also dressed in a suit, and clean shaven. It was obvious Francine found the bi-product of these ministrations appealing though the mere notion made the nausea I'd been ignoring all day rear its ugly head with a vengeance.

"Can we leave before they start swapping spit, my stomach can't handle it?"

Daryl chuckled. "Come on."

We stepped outside, and I bristled at the cold. Daryl immediately took off his jacket, placing it on my shoulders. I'd fought with Denise for two days about not wearing my sling to the wedding. No one, and I do mean no one, could pull of evening wear while sporting sling. In the end it wasn't me that convinced her. I had no idea what Tara did, but she did it with flare. Denise was flushed and barely functioning when she finally gave me approval to leave the fashion crime at home for the night.

"I'm good," I insisted.

He said nothing, pulling the lapels tighter before taking my hand again. The walk to Gabby's church was thankfully short. A few minutes in and my feet were already killing me. The moment we entered the small chapel we were greeted by everyone. Daryl nodded awkwardly, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other gripping mine progressively harder the longer the pleasantries drug on. Carl took mercy on us, escorting us to the front row next to Nugget and Deadpool. I kissed Nugget's cheek, handing Daryl his jacket back while smiling when the little girl squealed in excitement at seeing us.

Noah stood next to Gabby with Glenn to his left. Beth was his sister-in-law, Maggie his wife, who better to be Noah's best man than him. The groom looked nervous, really nervous. In fact, he looked like he might bolt at any moment though I knew it wasn't because he didn't want to marry Beth. Having everyone sitting here gawking at you must be a special kind of torture. Nevertheless, Glenn stood beside the man vigilant, ready to restrain him if necessary. One thing was abundantly clear; Noah was getting married tonight come hell or high water.

Merle and Francine took their seats behind us, and I turned around, eyeing my brother-in-law. "Are you ready?"

Francine looked between us, confused, but Merle waved off her question. "Course."

I winked at him, turning around.

"Ready for what?"

I grinned at my other half, not giving anything away. I refused to ruin the surprise. "You'll see."

"Does it involve dick tiaras?"

I snorted, looking apologetically at an elderly couple who were shocked by the talk of phallic symbols. "You wish Legolas."

"Everyone please be seated," Gabby announced.

The murmurs of the crowd ceased, music replacing it. Maggie entered the makeshift church, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She was wearing a floor-length gown the color of champagne, her hair twisted into an elegant bun. She looked stunning. Glenn's eyes locked on his wife. From where I was sitting it didn't look like he was breathing. She slowly walked down the aisle before taking her place opposite Glenn.

The music changed to the wedding march, and we all stood, turning to face the entrance. Beth stood in the doorway next to Rick, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm. The bride was a sight to behold, her organza and lace gown breathtaking. The body was a strapless corset with detailed beading and Venice lace appliques that gave way to a dramatic ruffled skirt and chapel train. Her long, blonde hair was flowing down her back, a ring of flowers braided into the crown of her head. She looked like she'd walked straight off the pages of a fairytale.

I glanced at Noah and felt myself tear up. He was stunned at the sight of his future wife, utterly mesmerized as she floated towards him. Whatever nervousness he displayed a few minutes ago was long gone.

Rick and Beth stopped in front of Gabby who smiled and asked, "Who gives this woman to this man?"

"On behalf of her father, Hershel, I do," Rick answered, voice cracking slightly. His eyes looked misty as he lightly kissed Beth's cheek, placing her hand in Noah's and stepping back.

The couple stood hand-in-hand as Gabby presided over their union in a traditional Christian ceremony save the vows they wrote themselves.

"Beth, when I met you I was drifting through life just waiting to die. I had no hope, no hope for anything. You changed that. You changed me." A single tear fell down his cheek. "You taught me how to fight, how to survive, and most importantly...how to love. You are my life, and I will love you for the rest of mine."

Gabby inclined his head to Beth who took a deep breath, looking Noah in the eyes.

"Noah, you're proof that something wonderful can come from something terrible. I never thought I'd get to experience this." Her lips quivered, and so did mine. By "experience this" she meant live long enough to fall in love. "My Daddy always told me that if I found the man I was meant to spend my life with I'd know. He was right. I knew the moment I met you that I'd love you. For the first time since the world ended I'm excited about what the future holds, and that's all because of you. I love you."

Gabby waited a beat before addressing the couple.

"Noah Tyler do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife," he asked, a Bible open in his hands, "To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until dead do you part?"

"I do," he whispered, sliding the wedding band onto her slim finger.

"Beth Greene do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until dead do you part?"

"I do."

Her hands shook slightly as she slid the wedding band on his finger.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." Noah stepped forward, taking Beth in his arms and kissing her hard. A resounding cheer exploded from the crowd. "You may kiss the bride."

Daryl put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loud. I laughed, dabbing at my eyes.

"Are you crying?"

I waved my hand at Deadpool. "I'm not crying. I'm releasing suppressed emotional energy."

She laughed, adjusting Nugget to her other hip. Beth and Noah walked down the aisle hand-in-hand, everyone throwing rice at them as they went. We followed down the aisle behind Glenn and Maggie, making our way to the reception which was set-up in the back area of the building, spilling into the streets.

It'd taken a few weeks to gather all the supplies necessary to pull off the reception, but it looked good. There were tables spread around a dance floor with a grand piano sitting front and center on the stage. Eric had been cooking and baking for the better part of two days, the fruits of his labor currently sitting in stainless steel steam serving pans. It took all my willpower not to beeline straight for the blueberry scones.

Daryl led us to a table near the front where the bride and groom were already seated. My husband shook Noah's hand, and kissed Beth on the cheek offering his congratulations. I wasn't nearly as composed, grabbing both of them and hugging them awkwardly before sinking into the chair my husband graciously pulled out for me. Who said chivalry was dead?

"Uh, excuse me," Aaron said, and I cringed the feedback making my skin crawl. He adjusted something on a unit beside him, and thankfully the next time he spoke it wasn't at a pitch only dog's enjoyed. "Sorry about that. First and foremost I wanted to say congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Tyler." Everyone cheered making Beth duck her head while Noah's arm went around her, face proud. "We've got a great evening planned for you, but before we begin we have a surprise for the newlyweds."

A hushed murmur reverberated through the crowd, everyone looking around trying to figure out what was happening. When I pushed my chair back my husband's head snapped to the side, and I winked at him. Someone else stood, and Daryl's eyes traveled from me to his brother. If we was surprised before he was downright astonished now.

Merle and I met in the middle of the dance floor, and I tried really hard not to feel self-conscious with every set of eyes in the place on us. Merle kept his head high, ushering me to the front of the stage. The walk to Aaron felt like a mile when in fact it was mere feet. I snuck a peek at Merle, and got a little worried. He was sweating, a lot. It also looked like he was shaking.

"Are you alright?" I whispered, smiling at the crowd.

Merle pulled at the tie around his neck. "I just...this is more people than I thought."

More people than he thought? What part of _everyone will be there_ was unclear?

"You need to pull yourself together man."

Aaron nodded at us, motioning for us to take up our position on either side of the piano. Eric was already seated, waiting for his cue to start. It was obvious Merle was freaked the fuck out so I raised a single finger, asking for a minute before quickly dashing to his spot. I stood in front of him, trying to block out as much of the crowd as I could.

"You can do this."

He swallowed hard. "I ain't never done this b'fore."

He wasn't going to do it. He was going to back out at the last second, and leave me standing up here like a total asshole.

"Listen to me, you can do this." He shook his head, ready to bolt. "Don't worry about everyone else. Just..." My eyes darted around the room until they landed on Francine who was sitting on the edge of her seat with a concerned expression. "Pretend like it's just you and Francine."

He nodded in agreement, eyes traveling the room until he found his girlfriend. "I can do that."

"Of course you can." He better. There was no backing out now. If he ran I'd have to hurt him, and then Daryl would get upset. "I'll just be...right over there." I pointed at my spot on the other side of the piano.

Once I was settled I gave Aaron a slight nod, and he continued. "Ladies and gentleman, Alex and Merle Dixon."

Everyone clapped, and I smiled, my nerves making my mouth dry. Unlike my brother-in-law I was able to push it away. I was a master of compartmentalization. You didn't survive in my former occupation if couldn't handle a little mental discomfort.

When I'd come up with this idea a few days ago it seemed like a great idea. Now, it felt like that dream where you showed up at school naked. I glanced down to make sure I was fully clothed, fidgeting with a strand of loose hair. I was about to give Eric the signal to start when Merle started talking.

"I ain't never claimed to be nothin' 'cept what I am, but I made a promise to a man." For the first time his eyes slid away from Francine, and he nodded at Glenn. "I promised that I'd do everythin' in my power to right my wrongs." He was talking about Woodbury, what happened to us there, specifically Maggie. "I ain't come close, not by a long shot, but...well...maybe this is a start." He looked at Beth and Noah. "I wish y'all the best."

He inclined his head to newlyweds, and Eric started playing. The keys of the old piano were in tune after Goggles spent the better part of an afternoon messing with it. The soft key strokes filled the otherwise quiet reception room. Merle kept his eyes locked on Francine though I noticed a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his head, a testament to his nerves. He inhaled deep and I found myself copying the action. This was it.

 _"Chances are you'll find me somewhere on the road tonight. Seems I always end up drivin' by."_

He sounded just like he did the first time I heard him sing in the rundown shack we took refuge in after the prison, beautiful. I glanced at Daryl and found him gaping at his older brother. He was absolutely shocked to hear his soulful, gravely, deep voice, as was everyone else in the room. I was willing to bet he'd never heard him sing. Merle didn't appear to notice, eyes never straying from his girlfriend.

 _"Ever since I've known you it just seems you're on my way. All the rules of logic don't apply."_ He took a deep breath, making a fist to conceal his shaking hand. _"I long to see you in the ni-ight. Be with you till mornin' li-ight."_

He exhaled harshly when he finished his first verse, and I felt myself relax. My eyes drifted to my husband who was already staring at me.

 _"I remember clearly how you looked the night we met. I recall your laughter and your smile. I remember how you made me feel so at ease. I remember all your grace...your style."_ It looked like Daryl was holding his breath while I sang. _"And now you're all I long to see. You've come to mean so much to me-ee-ee."_

For the first time since we started I looked away from Daryl, facing Merle. He was grinning and so was I. We both took a deep inhale, belting out the next verse in perfect unison.

 _"Chances are I'll see you somewhere in my dreams tonight. You'll be smilin' like the night we met. Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer all I have. You're the only one I can't forget."_

I felt tears pool in my eyes when I saw Noah twirling Beth around the dance floor. I sniffled, hastily dabbing my eyes while Merle sang solo.

 _"Baby you're the best I've ever met."_

I joined him again, our tempo building in tune with Eric as he played the piano like a pro.

 _"And I'll be dreamin' of the future. And hopin' you'll be by my side."_

Merle's eyes moved back to Francine, a devilish smirk on his face as he sung. _"And in the mornin' I'll be longing..."_

Gross. I inhaled deep, getting ready for our toughest duet. We'd struggled to stay in key while practicing, the harmony hard to carry due to the notes being so high for me and low for him. It was a difficult balancing act. One we'd yet to pull off. Here's to hoping we nailed it the live version.

 _"Fo-or the night. Fo-or the ni-ii-ight. And chances are I'll see you somewhere in my dreams tonight. You'll be smilin' like the night we met."_

I closed my eyes, tipping my head back as I sang, _"Ooh-ooh-ooh"_

 _"Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer all I have. You're the only one I can't forge_ t." Merle tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised as he asked if I was ready for the big finale. I smirked in response. I was _always_ ready. _"Baby you're the best I've ever met."_

 _"Oooh,"_ he crooned.

 _"Oo-ooo-oooh,"_ I finished, the music ending a second later.

The room erupted into applause, everyone standing and cheering so loud it was deafening. I ducked my head, fidgeting awkwardly as we walked back to our tables. Beth and Noah intercepted us, both hugging us so fiercely it was a miracle they didn't break bone.

Daryl was waiting for me when I got to the table. I blushed for reasons I couldn't explain. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he opened and closed his mouth several times, nothing happening. He settled for pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. I smiled in return, sitting down as he pushed the chair in and sat beside me. I clumsily accepted the praise at our table, thankful for the distraction the food offered.

Daryl leaned over so close his breath tickled my ear. "Got any other surprises planned Red?"

I shivered, "Not here, but once we get back to the room all bets are off Merida."

He snorted, interlacing our fingers underneath the table as we talked and laughed with everyone. It was so nice to enjoy each other's company, and not worry about the state of the world. We laughed when Nugget flung a tomato across the room, the little girl refusing to eat anything except butter. We listened to Noah gush over his new bride, and his first thoughts when he saw her walking down the aisle.

"No, no, no, keep drinking," Daryl drawled, his accent more pronounced. He pointed at Glenn, a devious grin on his striking face. "I wanna see how red yur face gets."

Glenn tipped his head back, laughing so hard wine almost came out his nose. Rick and Carol joined in, the four of them sharing an inside joke.

Rick leaned back, yelling. "Booyah!"

"Booyah!" the three of them echoed, glasses held high before downing the contents.

Maggie leaned over to me. "What's booyah?"

I shrugged, chugging my own glass. I had no idea, but I wasn't wasting an opportunity to drink.

With dinner concluding Aaron turned on the music, the dance floor slowly filling with couples. I sat back, watching the couples sway back-and-forth.

"Do you mind?" Rick asked Carol, gesturing to Nugget. She accepted the baby willingly, standing up and propping her on a hip before heading to the dance floor. "Uh, Michonne, do you...uh...want to dance?"

I put a finger over my mouth, trying to conceal my smile as Deadpool's tried to play it cool, but we all knew she wasn't passing up this opportunity. She practically hurled her napkin onto the table, standing up so fast she was difficult to track.

"Yes," she said a little too loud to be casual. "I mean, sure."

I snorted, watching the scene unfold. Rick pulled at the color of his shirt, adjusting his tie like it was choking him before taking her hand and leading her onto the floor. Maggie and Glenn were already gone, leaving just Daryl and I at the table.

"Would ya dance with me Red?" I turned swiftly, shocked to see my husband standing with his hand out.

"Of course."

I took his hand, standing and letting him lead me onto the floor. We were safely tucked in the middle of the masses when he turned, pulling me closer. He curled his hand around mine, his other sliding around my waist until it rested on my lower back.

"Why ya look like a monkey humpin' a football?"

I leaned back so I could see his face. "Monkey's hump footballs?"

He snorted, shaking his head and pulling me closer, swaying to the beat.

"I didn't know you could dance."

"Why ya sound so surprised?"

He effortlessly guided us around the dance floor. Honestly, I had no idea why it shocked me. Daryl could do _anything_ , and I do mean anything. I'd never seen him fail, not once. It made sense this would be no different. I suppose I'd never considered the redneck learning something so...useless. I'd learned much later in life, and it wasn't for recreation.

"My grandma taught me when I was 'lil," he admitted, "Said a man needed to know how to dance with a lady."

I closed my eyes, inhaling his clean, masculine scent. I rested my head against his, enjoying the way his thumb rubbed circles on the back of my hand unconsciously. Daryl danced like he moved, gracefully, effortlessly. The music flowed through us, between us, creating a bond stronger than the walls of Alexandria. I could have danced with him forever.

"Did ya want this?"

I kept my head against his, wrapping my arm around his shoulder so I could pull him closer. I didn't want any distance between us. "Want what?"

"A wedding." He sounded hesitant, almost unsure. "A real wedding with our family, a dress, a real preacher. Not the two of us in the middle of nowhere standin' in the pourin' rain."

I stopped dancing, and so did he. I stepped back so I could look him in the eye.

"I wouldn't change one second of our life together," I stated, taking his face in my hands. "The only thing I'll ever need is you."

His nostrils flared and my heart skipped a beat. A second later his lips covered mine. The heat from his body set mine on fire, the kiss passionate and demanding. His mouth was angled ever so slightly, his tongue soft as it slipped between my lips. He placed his large hand along my jaw, his thumb resting at the corner of my mouth while his fingertips played with the loose hair at the nape of my neck.

"Alex..." he whispered slowly, drawling out my name as if he meant to savor it.

Never before had my name felt so wonderful to my ears. This was love. A story you never wanted to end. A person who transformed your life to the point you didn't know how you survived without them. I never knew how much I longed for this until I found him. He was the one thing in this world that made me feel complete. It was as if my universe began and ended with him.

I traced his lip lightly with the tip of my finger. "I fall in love with you a little more every day. I don't know how that's possible because I love you so much it feels like I might burst, but, it is...because I feel it growing..." My voice cracked, and his eyes blazed with heat that promised our night was far from over. "Whether my heart beats another day or another hundred years...it'll always be yours."

"I ain't no good with words," he swallowed hard, "Yur the best thing that ever happened to me. I would give up anythin' in this world for ya. I'd do _anythin'_ to protect ya. It's me and ya Red. It always has been. Always will be."

I blinked back tears. "This side or the other."

"Damn straight."

* * *

 **It felt like I owed you guys a wedding so I gave you a wedding. It wouldn't be Red, and it definitely wouldn't be Alex, if there wasn't a little mayhem and laughter first. I hope you enjoyed the brief reprieve (and found it funny cause...).**

 **As we all know, the world is about to get a whole lot bigger.**

 **FYI, the song Alex and Merle are singing is Chances are by Bob Seger and Martina McBride.**

 **Until next time ;)**


	65. What Woulf Jesus Do?

**What Would Jesus Do?**

"Sulkin' ain't gonna help yur shoulder heal no faster."

I sighed heavily. "What will?"

Daryl ignored me, reading the list Denise gave him earlier, brow furrowed. Like his thoughts conjured her the doctor appeared on the street, catching his eye. He called her name, waving her over.

"Yes?"

"This thing at the bottom right here...yur talkin' 'bout the drink, right?"

Curious I leaned over, reading the words _Orange Crush_ scribbled hastily.

"I am, but..."

Daryl hummed, not following. "It's not medical."

"You come up with that all by yourself babe?"

He shot me the finger, eyes never straying from the doctor who looked nervous.

"No, I drew a line between the important stuff and that." Daryl nodded along with her like he understood this nonsense. "I just figured, if you saw it."

"A'right," he conceded, but she continued.

"Anything remotely medical is a priority." She looked at me and I nodded just like Daryl even though I had no idea why. I wasn't even going on the run. I didn't give a flying fuck if she wanted him to find a sex swing. "And food, maybe even food before medicine, and gas or batteries, or books for the kids, or clothes...it's just... if you see it...if it just happens to, you know, be right there."

Daryl glanced at me and I shrugged. He was on his own. I had no clue what we were talking about.

"Ya like it, right?"

She shook her head no. "I don't drink pop."

If confusion was the first step to knowledge Daryl was on his way to becoming a Road Scholar.

"What the hell is pop?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm originally from Ohio." She said that like it explained everything. Daryl continued to stare at her, waiting for a suitable explanation.

"She means soda," I clarified. It felt nice to be the one translating for a change.

My husband nodded, eyeing Denise skeptically. "Why ya want it?"

"Tara was talking about it in her sleep, I think. Either she likes it or she doesn't, but if she likes it, it'd be a really nice surprise. I'm not good with that kind of stuff, and she and Heath are going on that two-week run. I just thought it'd be a nice going-away present."

Well that was five-minutes of my life I was never getting back. Daryl shifted awkwardly, the tips of his ears turning red. It was utterly adorable. Even after all this time, and being married to boot, he still got embarrassed at the talk of relationships.

"What a lovely idea," I added, stepping away from him so he couldn't get his hands on me. "Maybe you could be on the lookout for one of those framed pictures of two hearts with a cute little sayings too."

Denise's eyes lit up. "Oh no, that would just be..."

"No trouble whatsoever," I interrupted, barely able to contain my amusement.

Daryl was done being embarrassed, and was now simply pissed. I told him I'd get him back for convincing Denise to keep me on the injured reserve list.

"I really appreciate it. Thanks Daryl." She smiled so bright at him it was blinding. "Just...don't go out of your way or anything."

He ground his teeth, eyes boring into the side of my head. "Got it."

"And Alex, I'll see you at physical therapy in a few minutes, right?"

My good mood evaporated instantly. "Sure."

She walked backwards, eyeing me carefully. "If you don't show up again..."

"She'll be there," Daryl interrupted with a grin, "If she ain't just lemme know."

The unsaid threat lingered in the air. Rick had been crystal clear my recovery and subsequent return to "active duty" was contingent upon my successful participation in PT, and the reluctant doctor signing off that my shoulder was healed. If I no-showed my husband would do everything in his power to keep me on the sideline.

"Will do," Denise promised, turning on her heel.

I put my hands on my hips, snatching the paper out of Daryl's hand. "That was mean."

"No worse than ya sending me on a wild goose chase for damn heart pictures."

I laughed, the two of us making our way to the front gate where Rick was waiting with the car. Ever since my injury he'd taken my place as Daryl's partner on runs. If I couldn't go he was the second best option. I trusted him, knew he would watch my husband's back. Still, the past few weeks hadn't been easy, but I'd handled it like a mature adult, mostly.

"How's yur shoulder feel today?"

I rolled the joint, massaging it with my other hand as I glanced at him. He was so handsome it hurt.

"It's fine." He stayed quiet, waiting. "Really, it barely hurts anymore. I was ready last week."

"Ain't no need to rush it."

"That's easy for you to say, you aren't stuck here with your thumb up your ass while everyone else pulls their weight."

Daryl stopped, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him. "Ya pulled yur weight Red. Damn near smoked half the herd, and saved these people from The Wolves. Ya done enough."

Daryl gathered me in his arms, and I sagged against him, arms going around his waist. I'd done this enough in the last month to know once he left I'd be a bundle of nerves until he came back unscathed.

"Mornin'," Rick drawled, rolling the window down. "How's the shoulder?" I drug my teeth over lip, scowling at him. "Sorry I asked. Ready brother?"

Before Daryl could answer Billy Ray Cyrus ran up, panting awfully hard for someone who'd only ran three-feet. Clearly we needed to add cardio to the list of skills he needed to work on. He handed Daryl a crudely drawn map, and the two of us shared a skeptical look.

"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area. Even if they've been cleaned out my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky."

No one said a word. The three of us stared at him, and because he was the world's most socially awkward human-being he simply stared right back.

"I'm talking sustainability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns. Think about it."

Think about _what_? Was he even speaking English? I was half-way convinced sorghum was just an agricultural substitute for his fake cure. You just never knew with Billy Ray.

I planted myself in front of my husband, eyes pleading. "Please don't leave me here with him."

Rick snorted, promising Billy Ray they'd be on the lookout for his fake food source. Daryl pried my fingers off his arm, planting a quick kiss on my forehead while I remained rooted in place. I could practically feel Billy Ray staring at me, and chanced a quick look at him only to snap my eyes forward immediately. Yep, he was still staring. Man that shit was creepy.

I bent down, planting my hands the door. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"It won't be so bad Alex. Hang out with Merle, play with Judith, check in on Carol. Enjoy the day."

Hang out with Merle? That would involve a threesome with him and Francine, and that wasn't my jam.

Play with Nugget? That was code for _babysit_ Nugget, and the last time I did that I may or may not have misplaced her for roughly a half-hour.

Check on Carol? She was either baking or reading porn, neither of which appealed to me at this particular moment, but I'd keep the porn part tucked away just in case.

The car started rolling forward, and my eyes got wide. "I'm going to put a voodoo curse on both of you."

"You do that," Rick smiled, waving goodbye as Daryl laughed at my panic. Neither seemed particularly worried about the curse which was discouraging.

I let go of the door, watching it roll out of the gates then disappear on the horizon. Billy Ray stood frozen beside me, and I sighed.

"Are you partial to Louisiana Voodoo or Hatian Vodou?"

I let my head fall back, squeezing my eyes shut. "Oh my god."

Before I got the full history of voodoo I pivoted on my heel, walking to Denise's house for PT. The last thing I needed was another no-show on my road to recovery. The usual suspects were already hard at work in the infirmary. Denise and Eric hardly acknowledged my presence, the doc simply pointing at a tennis ball sitting on the kitchen counter. I rolled my eyes, but obediently retrieved it. Tara offered me a small smile, moving to stand on the opposite end of the room.

"Rick and Daryl get off OK?" Tara asked, catching the tennis ball and throwing it back to me.

"Yeah." I was trying not to sound like I was pouting, but it was difficult because I was _and_ I didn't care. "Billy Ray has them looking for fake grains again."

"Sorghum?" Eric asked, handing Denise a bottle of pills which she dutifully recorded.

"I think so." Tara's latest toss went a little wide, and I was forced to lung to my right to retrieve the ball before it shattered a window. "Easy DiMaggio."

"My bad," she said sheepishly.

"Anyway, he said it could change our food situation."

Honestly I wasn't sure how. It sounded horrible. I'd sooner eat Carol's god awful celery soup casserole, but our pantry had passed light and was rapidly moving towards empty. We needed to either find food or get our crops growing, and fast, or we were in trouble.

"At least things have been quiet," Tara said, catching the ball.

"Yeah."

"What?"

I shrugged, sighing. "I don't trust quiet."

"Better than the alternative."

Not necessarily. Just because you couldn't see danger didn't mean it wasn't lurking around the corner. We hadn't come across anyone living since The Wolves attacked, and I found that oddly disconcerting. We couldn't be the only people in the area. There had to be other communities, or at the very least groups. The big question was whether they would turn out to be friends or enemies when we finally ran across them. I was leaning towards enemies because we weren't the most hospitable people left in the world.

"Denise, not that I don't love spending this time with you, but how much longer do I have to throw a tennis ball before you'll sign off that I'm OK?"

The doc didn't answer at first, too preoccupied with her inventory. "Uh...it depends...we need to...see how your shoulder holds up in a real-life situation."

Real-life situation? No problem.

I caught the tennis ball with my left hand, pursing my lips in agitation. I drew a knife from my waist with my right, flipping the knife until the cool, metal blade was securely in my hand. Tara's mouth dropped open, head swinging between me and her girlfriend.

"Uh...um..."

Her rambling garnered Eric's attention and he wasted no time getting the hell out of dodge, practically sprinting away from Denise.

I took a deep breath, pulling the knife up to my ear, and squinting slightly as I aimed. The muscles in my shoulders felt tight, but not painful. I was 80 percent sure I could do this. Denise was holding a piece of paper in her hand, studying it while counting bottles in a cabinet. I threw the knife, the blade hurtling end-over-end. The razor sharp weapon sliced through the paper, ripping it out of her hand before impaling the wall beside her.

Everyone in the room froze for a solid 30-seconds then Denise turned slowly, eyes traveling slowly from the piece of paper stuck to the wall, to me. She adjusted her glasses, wrapping a hand around the knife hilt and wiggling it back-and-forth, trying to dislodge it. She tugged and pulled, grunting until the knife finally gave way, causing her to stumble back.

"Well..." she trailed off, holding the weapon uncomfortably in her hand. "I'd say you're all better."

"Great," I smiled, taking the weapon from her.

"You're literally the scariest person I know," Eric admitted, hand on his chest.

"Thank you."

He frowned, "That wasn't a compliment."

Could have fooled me.

"Well, it's been fun and all..."

I tossed Tara the tennis ball, getting the hell out of there before she changed her mind. I walked to the front gate. Taking a rotation on guard duty was as good a way to pass the time as any. Plus, it gave me the added benefit of being the first to know Daryl and Rick were back.

I stopped beside Ariel who was watching Sasha walk in the opposite direction. He was so lost in thoughts (of her ass) he didn't notice me. In fact, he was watching her with such intensity it became apparently clear he wasn't undressing her with his eyes. Well, he wasn't _only_ undressing her with his eyes.

"Everything alright?"

Ariel finally broke eye contact with Sasha's derriere, glancing at me. "Huh?"

I looked at him then at Sasha who disappeared around a corner. I bit my lip, turning my attention back to Ariel. "Well, I'm going to just..."

I pointed at the guard tower, taking a step away, but was forced to stop when he said, "Hey Alex, can I ask you somethin'?"

I winced, squeezing my eyes shut briefly before reluctantly turning to face him. I knew I should've kept walking.

"Sure."

"Do you remember before when you asked about me and Rosita?" I nodded, bracing for what I knew was coming. "And what I said...about it not being serious...well...I may have been..."

"Lying?"

He scowled at me. "Downplayin' it." That was one way of putting it. "You're a woman."

"Last time I checked."

"What I mean is..."

I sighed. At the rate this was going I was liable to turn 90 before he finished. "Ariel, spit it out."

"How do you think she'd take it if I...ended things?"

Why did it feel like I was playing catch with a live grenade?

How did I think Apocalypse Barbie would take the news he wanted to _stop banging her_ and _start banging Sasha_? I was pretty sure she'd cut his dick off. Then she'd _really_ go work on him.

"Uh, I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer that question." Mainly because I enjoyed breathing.

"It ain't that I don't have feelings for her, but they ain't what they should be. I care about her, want her to be happy, but she deserves more."

I bit my lip. "You should talk to her."

"You think?"

"That's normally how these things worked." He nodded, lips pressed into a hard line as he considered my advice. "But you should make a point to be, you know, not you."

"Not me?" he frowned.

"Just...let her down easy, be sensitive. Not like you normally are."

"How am I normally?"

"An asshole."

He nodded, accepting my assessment of his personality. "I can do that."

I'd believe that shit when I saw it. He finally left, and I climbed up to the lookout point, settling in. The guys had been gone hours which wasn't unusual, but it'd be dark soon. They weren't planning to stay out overnight so they should be back any minute, but as the minutes quickly turned into hours I started to get worried. When the sun officially set I was freaking-the-fuck-out.

I was so hyped up by the time Noah replaced me I practically jumped off the guard tower. I ran home, hoping by some miracle they were back and I somehow missed it. Even in my head that sounded ridiculous, but it didn't stop me from flinging the door open and searching the living room like a crazy person.

Deadpool was sitting on the couch holding Nugget who was almost asleep. Well, she was almost asleep until I slammed the door. Now she was wide awake, and pissed. Carl came to the rescue scooping up his sister and carrying her upstairs.

"Are they back?"

I had no idea why I asked. Clearly they weren't, and that freaked me out. They should be back. Should have been back hours ago. Something happened. Something was wrong. I had to find them.

"Woah," Deadpool chided, standing up and wrapping both hands around my upper arm. "Calm down Alex."

"I am calm."

She frowned, "You don't look calm."

She was right of course, but I didn't give a rat's ass.

"I'm going to look for them," I declared, ignoring her observation.

Maggie and Glenn wandered in from the kitchen both looking anxious at my proposal.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Maggie started, "They can handle themselves."

Maybe, maybe not. The last time Daryl was late he was ambushed, almost killed, kidnapped, robbed, and almost killed again. He survived by the skin of his teeth, and by skin of his teeth I meant a rocket launcher.

"How about this..." I waited for Deadpool, albeit not patiently. "We wait until morning." I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but she kept right on trucking. "We wait until morning, and if they still aren't back we both go looking for them."

I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping a finger against my arm. It wasn't the plan I wanted, but it made sense. Any number of things could have delayed them, and running off in the dark searching blindly would be pointless.

"Fine."

Deadpool narrowed her eyes, not trusting me. She held up her hand, pinky finger extended. I gasped, eyes wide.

"You wouldn't."

She raised an eyebrow in challenge, "I would."

Bitch. She knew how I felt about pinky promises. This was serious shit. If I pinky promised I wouldn't sneak off in the middle of the night, and I broke that promise the world would fall out of alignment. I was talking serious shit, locust, rivers turning into blood, being denied ABC and 123s for the rest of my life...the fallout would be cataclysmic.

I clucked my tongue, reluctantly wrapping my pinky finger around hers, cementing the promise. What other choice did I have? If I didn't promise she'd know I planned to sneak out in the middle of the night, and would guard me all night to prevent it. If I did promise I _couldn't_ sneak out in the middle of the night. She had me and she knew it. Damn her.

"I'm sure they're fine," Maggie added.

I nodded, turning and walking to the basement. My throat constricted when I walked in our room. Daryl's shirt was draped over the chair, a pair of dirty jeans in the corner. A pile of weapons sat on the dresser, some clean some not. My lips trembled when I picked up his shirt. I balled it up, burying my face in the fabric. It still smelled like him, and I felt tears stinging my eyes. His essence surrounded me, but instead of making me feel better it made me feel worse. It was a constant reminder he wasn't here, that something could be wrong, that he might be in trouble.

I showered on autopilot. I dried my hair and brushed my teeth remembering none of it as I moved around our room like a robot. I couldn't stop myself from slipping into one of Daryl's T-shirts before getting into bed, turning off the bedside lamp. The house was peaceful, everyone settled for the night. It was quiet, too quiet. I couldn't get comfortable, tossing and turning for what felt like hours. It was well after midnight when I finally gave up, resigned to spending the night starring at the ceiling and waiting for my husband to walk through the door.

I made it all of 10-minutes before I threw the covers off, climbing out of bed. Maybe if I got a snack it would help me relax. It was so late I knew no one would be up so I didn't bother with pants. I went straight to the kitchen, looking through a fruit basket on the island. I settled on an apple, putting the orange and banana back.

I took a bite, posture relaxed as I chewed the crisp fruit. I took another bite, the flavor rich and sweet on my tongue. I sighed in content, tilting my head to the side slightly, tapping my foot on the ground nonchalantly. I slowly slid my hand forward until I felt the hilt of one of Carol's carving knives brush my fingertips. The creak of the wood floor was barely audible as I whirled around, throwing the knife at the unknown intruder standing in our living room.

He was quick; ducking to avoid the blade as it sailed over his head, embedding itself in the wall with a thump. By the time he stood I was in his face, attacking. I used his thigh as a springboard, climbing up his body until I was perched on his shoulders. I wrapped my right leg around his neck, putting both hands on my shin and pulling the leg hard to lock in the choke hold. My weight and momentum caused him to fall forward, and I hit the ground first using the force of our fall to my advantage. When we came to a stop I was sitting on top of him, leg still locked around his neck like a vise. The stranger thrashed under me, cheeks puffed out as he struggled to fight and breath. I curled my leg tighter, forcing him to stop or risk passing out from lack of air.

"I think...we got off...on the wrong foot," he wheezed, eyes bulging.

The front door exploded open, Daryl and Ariel charging through, weapons drawn. Meanwhile, Deadpool, Rick, and Carl ran down the stairs, the commotion of our fight waking the house. Merle and Francine were the last to join the party, both panting as they bounded up the basement stairs.

"Red!"

"Here."

Daryl stormed into the living room, quickly taking in the scene. In a flash he was at my side, gun pointed directly at the man's forehead. He didn't look surprised to find him here which was interesting. Ariel flanked him on the other side just in case one bullet to the brain wasn't a sufficient deterrent.

I released the pressure on his neck, untangling our bodies and standing. Daryl's eyes flicked to Ariel who nodded curtly at the unspoken request. He bent down, roughly yanking the man up only to toss him on the couch like a rag doll. My husband's eyes roamed my body, eyes widening when he realized I was half-naked. He raised his eyebrows, strategically angling his body in front of mine to shield it from view.

"I was getting a snack," I defended. It wasn't like I was expecting to subdue a home invader in nothing but a T-shirt and panties.

 _T-shirt and my panties on._

"Darlina."

Daryl turned, catching a pair of sweatpants his brother tossed across the room. I gladly accepted the clothes even if they were enormous, pulling the drawstring tight to keep them in place. At least I was wearing my sexy underwear, and not my granny panties. If I was going to wrestle strangers in the middle of the night I was going to look good doing it.

"Gotta say, I like the way ya look in my clothes," he muttered so soft only I could hear. His eyes blazed with heat, a smirk on his face.

I patted his chest affectionately. "Save it for later." I leaned forward, kissing him briefly before noticing the swelling around his eye. I lightly traced the bruises, eyes traveling to the stranger on the couch who I somehow knew was responsible. "Trouble?"

He waved his hand at the man. "Just this asshole."

Rick stalked in front of the "asshole" adjusting the shirt he'd just put on. I turned to Deadpool, who was trying to fix her sex hair, and hastily buttoning her pants. I grinned at her, winking playfully. She tried to deflect by rolling her eyes, but she couldn't hide her post-sex glow. It was about time.

"Hi Rick." The man didn't look concerned he was surrounded by hostiles. Instead of cowering he sat forward, causing both Ariel and Daryl to tense before he offered me a shy smile. "I'm Jesus by the way."

"Seriously?"

He shrugged, "That's what my friends call me."

I had to admit, with the long hair and beard he kinda looked like Jesus. That was if Jesus moonlighted as a post-apocalyptic home invader.

"Well, since we aren't friends I'll stick with asshole for now."

He chuckled, not offended in the slightest. "Fair enough. Mind if I ask how you knew I was behind you?"

Daryl took a step forward, a growl reverberating deep in his chest. He didn't like the fact he'd gotten in our home undetected, and _really_ didn't like the fact he'd been so close to me. In my opinion, he was getting worked up for nothing. I wasn't worried about the guy I could subdue in nothing but redneck lingerie.

"I could hear your mouth breathing from downstairs," I finally said.

I knew the second I opened the basement door something was off, or more accurately that someone was in the room. With Nugget and Carl a stone's throw away I couldn't risk attacking until I knew where they were and exactly what their intentions were. So instead of confronting him head-on I waited for him to make a mistake which he did the second he tried to get closer. The floors in the house were old. It was nearly impossible to walk on them without making noise. The second he took a step in my direction he sealed his fate.

"Impressive."

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, grinding his teeth. "That's enough."

I would have laughed if I didn't think it would set off him off. He thought Jesus was flirting with me which was hilarious. I bumped him with my shoulder, silently telling him to settle down. He was worrying for nothing. Jesus was clearly gay.

Jesus' looked between us, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Nice to meet his other half."

"Uh-huh," I replied noncommittally.

Rick grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, leading him to the dining room table. I guess now was as good a time as any to do this. We weren't getting back to sleep tonight. Not with someone like him roaming around.

Jesus sat on one end of the table, flanked by Rick and Deadpool. Carl, Glenn, and Maggie took up residency in the other seats with Ariel and Merle stood like centuries behind them. I was leaning against the wall beside a pacing Daryl who had yet to take his eyes of Jesus like he might spontaneously disappear. Admittedly I didn't know a lot about Christianity, but I was pretty sure that wasn't a trick God's son had in his toolkit.

"How'd you get out?" Rick began.

"One guard can't cover two exits," he explained, "Or third floor windows. Knots untie, and locks get pricked."

He got out by picking a lock, climbing on the roof, and jumping down? Huh, maybe he wasn't _all bad_.

"Entropy comes from order, right?"

"What the hell ya cauterwalin' 'bout?" Merle snarled, unhappy Jesus was using three syllable words.

"Everything in the universe eventually moves from order to disorder. Entropy is the measurement of that change," I explained. Rick turned slowly, his cop eyebrow on high alert. "What? Didn't you people ever watch Jeopardy?"

Jesus laughed, pointing at me. "She gets it." Daryl smacked his hand away then continued pacing. If I didn't know better I'd say he was hoping for a reason to stab our guest. "I checked out your arsenal. I haven't seen anything like that in a long time."

I told them we needed a better system then a lock on the stupid window. I'd offered to rig the place with explosives, but was shot down immediately. Apparently bombs were "excessive". Haters, all of them.

"You're well-equipped." His eyes moved to me, lips pursed. "And you can obviously handle yourself, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have."

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. He knew a lot about us, too much, and he'd been here for a grand total of a two hours. Weakness was an invitation in this world, and we were decidedly weak in certain areas.

"54?" He phrased it like a question, but it wasn't one. He was spot on.

"More than that," Maggie corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. Maybe she was counting the parasite currently incubating in her uterus. Technically that would make it 55. She really showed him.

Jesus nodded, "Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

"Yeah, she ain't here," Daryl snarled.

She was probably out setting people on fire to pass the time.

"Look we got off to a bad start, but we're on the same side...the living side." Wow, that was deep. "You and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and both of you looked like trouble."

I glanced at Daryl who had the sense to look sheepish. This guy got the drop of them _and_ stole their truck. This was a story I had to hear.

"I was wrong," Jesus continued, "You're good people, and this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other."

Rick thought about it for a beat before surveying the room. Deadpool and Maggie looked intrigued, but wary. Carl looked hopeful. Glenn looked worried, but not about Jesus. He didn't want his pregnant wife in the middle of what might be a set-up. Ariel didn't appear to care one way or the other so long as he got the opportunity to kill someone. Merle wasn't buying it, and it showed, a lot. Daryl was biting his thumbnail, eyes boring a hole in Jesus' head like he could somehow suss out the truth.

I wasn't sure what we were debating. The two of them obviously thought there was something to the man. They'd brought him back here when they could have left him for dead. Why do that if you weren't hoping for... _something_?

"Alex?"

"He's telling the truth." Jesus grinned, and I rolled my eyes.

"Do you have food?" Glenn asked.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

Ah, sorghum, the fake grain Billy Ray Cyrus was obsessed with. He was going to be thrilled.

"Tell us why we should believe you?"

Rick was asking for a reason to trust him, but his body language said he wasn't buying it, not yet. Not that you could blame the guy. We didn't have the best luck when it came to strangers.

"I'll show you. If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

Maggie sat up straighter, "Wait, you're looking for _more_ settlements? You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Jesus chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Your world is about to get a whole lot bigger."

For a moment no one said anything. I wasn't sure anyone was even breathing. I could practically hear the dramatic music playing in the background.

"That was painfully cheesy," I sighed, pushing off the wall and heading for the basement.

The stomp of Daryl's boots told me he was following. We said nothing until we were behind closed doors. I was already stripping out of his shirt and the borrowed sweatpants, shrugging on a long-sleeved Henley and jeans.

"Whatcha think?"

I sat on the bed, pulling on my boots. "I think I want to hear the story about the truck."

"Asshole stole it. Swiped the keys, and put some firecrackers in a garbage can to distract us." Daryl paced in front of me, biting his nail. "By the time we realized it was a trick he long was gone."

"I like him."

He stopped, scowling at me. "Chased that bastard for two-miles b'fore we caught up to him changin' a tire. Tied him up and left him on the side of the road to rot, but he got on top of the truck. Heard him movin' 'round so Rick slammed on the breaks. Sent that prick flyin'."

" _I really like him_ ," I smiled, pulling my hair into a ponytail.

My husband shook his head in disapproval. It wasn't every day someone got the upper hand not once, but twice on Daryl "Redneck Extraordinaire" Dixon. This was a story for the ages.

"Chased him 'round a field till he saved my life." That caught my attention. "Shot a walker sneakin' up behind me. Door of the truck clipped him in the head b'fore rollin' into a lake."

This was like an episode of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. All they were missing was someone being strapped to an ACME rocket.

"I would like to point out nothing like this happens when I'm with you." I walked to him, pushing the hair out of his eyes with a knowing look.

"Nah, shit just blows up constantly."

I shrugged, kissing him lightly. "What's wrong?"

"How do we know we can trust him?"

"We don't."

He took a slow breath, eyeing me carefully. "What if I asked ya to stay here?" I stepped out of his embrace, narrowing my eyes. "Said it yurself, we can't trust him."

"That's not what I said."

I picked up my PPQ, sliding it into the holster on my leg, and tightened the belt around my waist holding my knives.

"What 'bout Carl and Judith?"

I snorted, nice try. He couldn't play that hand for at least another 8 to 10 months after The Wolves and herd debacle. I wasn't staying. Not this time. No way.

"If you're so worried about them, _you stay_."

He didn't bother responding, the notion simply ridiculous to him. Yeah, well, welcome to the club. I swung the door open, striding to the stairs.

"Ya sure yur shoulder's ready? It ain't been but..."

He swallowed the rest of his rebuttal as the knife sailed by his face, hitting the wall with a resounding thud. He raised his eyebrows, scratching the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

"Hot damn lil' brother, what's got her knickers in a knot?!" Merle laughed, standing outside his door at the other end of the hall.

I pointed at the knife. "Don't forget that."

"We gotta work on yur anger management Red."

No we didn't. When the knife was in his eye _then_ we needed to work on my anger management.

* * *

 **Welcome to The Walking Dead Jesus. I feel like his introduction is kind of the beginning of the end. Nothing will be the same after this as we all know. Up next they head to Hilltop.**

 **Lots happening, lots still to come...what was your favorite part? What are you looking forward to? What are you dreading?**

 **Thank you everyone for the support. You make this all worth it!**


	66. Let's Make A Deal

**Let's Make a Deal**

"Nice necklace." Ariel swallowed hard, self-consciously tucking the jewelry into his shirt. "Did she give it to you before or after you broke up with her?"

"I didn't...I mean I haven't..."

I nodded unsympathetically. "Quite the conundrum you got there big guy."

In truth I cared little about his relationship status, but watching the lumbering red-head squirm was the highlight of my day.

"I just don't know what to say."

"Well, you could try I want to see other people." His eyes got wide, and he looked around like Apocalypse Barbie might appear out of thin air. "Or I need space, or it's me not you."

I wracked my brain for other excuses from _He's Just Not That Into You_ , but came up empty. I fell asleep 30-minutes into watching the chic flick with my sister.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I could do that."

"Just remember, let her down easy."

The last thing we needed was an armed homicidal woman in hot pants roaming the community. Deadpool sauntered down the stairs wearing a dreamy smile. I leaned against the RV, crossing my arms over my chest with a grin.

"Someone looks happy." She tried to scowl, but she was still riding her sex high so it didn't translate. "So, was it everything you hoped it be?"

She sighed, biting her lip. "It was..."

" _Stop_ , I can't." I put my hands over my ears. "I tried, really, I did, but please don't. I'm glad Rick finally got to jerk it where you twerk it, but I can't stomach the details."

She swatted my arm, laughing as the man in question stopped beside her. The two gazed into each other's eyes each other like they were staring in their very own rom-com, and I ducked into the RV before I got hit with sex juices. I plopped down on the couch, Daryl on one side, Ariel on the other. My other half was peering into a bag at what appeared to be smashed dirt masquerading as food.

"What is that?"

He sniffed the contents. "Some kind of cake shit." It looked like shit alright. "Want some?"

"No, I'm good swallowing my spit."

Ariel snorted, stretching out and taking up half the couch. I rested my head on Daryl's shoulder, putting my legs in Ariel's lap. He didn't protest, didn't seem to even notice. He was focused on Maggie, or more accurately, Maggie's parasite.

Daryl absently stroked my arm as I tried to rest despite my brother-in-law's cringe worthy snores originating in the back bedroom. I didn't know what we would find at Jesus' community, but we needed to be ready for a fight hence why Legolas, Ariel, Captain Hook and I were on the trip.

Ariel leaned forward, my legs still firmly in his lap while he talked in hushed tones with Glenn.

"Did he just ask something about pancakes?" I whispered to Daryl. I felt him shrug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Who the hell knows?"

The RV rocked back-and-forth while we drove, and lulled me close to sleep. I snuggled into his side, hand curled around the edge of his jacket, just about to drift off into a REM cycle when Jesus started talking.

"How long have you two been married?"

Daryl stiffened under me, but I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep.

"What makes ya think we're married?"

The ring on my left hand. The fact I was using him as a Pillow Pet. Our little display of tonsil hockey back at the house.

Jesus didn't answer, but he must have done something because Daryl shifted, discreetly covering my left hand with his though he continued to fiddle with my ring.

"A while," he answered, an edge to his voice that said tread lightly.

"I like her." My hubby had no response to that. "Not many people can get the jump on me."

He said nothing which wasn't surprising. Daryl was a private man. He didn't like people knowing more than was absolutely necessary. For some reason he decided to open up to Jesus, kind of, in a very Daryl-like way.

"She said the same thing." The statement must have confused Jesus because he added, "Told her 'bout ya stealin' our shit and stowin' away on the truck. She laughed...said she liked ya."

"I really am sorry about that."

"Uh-huh." The breaks on the RV squealed, and we were all thrown forward. I sat up just as Daryl yelled, "Yo Rick, what's goin' on?"

"We got a crash ahead." I sat up, looking out the front windshield. A car was turned on its side, the wreckage still smoking, impaled and crushed walkers were twisting at odd angles, trying to get loose. "Looks like it just happened."

Rick threw the RV into park, and Jesus gasped, fumbling with the door of the RV. "It's one of ours."

The man frantically fought with the door, cursing when the old lock failed to disengage. When he finally got it open he flew out of the RV, racing to the wreckage. We followed behind, weapons out, eyes surveying the surroundings warily.

There was blood coating the road, bits and pieces of skin, tissue, and body parts lying scattered haphazardly. The car was resting on its side, a walker pinned underneath snarling, trying in vain to reach us. There was another hanging from the front bumper; her body ripped open, internal organs tangled in brush guard.

Rick pointed his cannon at Jesus. "If this is a trick, it won't end well for you."

"My people are in trouble. They don't...we don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

Hahaha, that was hilarious.

"No," Daryl answered, gesturing to the ground, "I got tracks right here."

We followed the footprints to a nearby building. Rick pounded on the window, waiting for any sign of walkers. When no one dead or living came forward he turned and glared at Jesus. I glanced at Daryl, biting my lip. His face was unreadable, but I saw the tension he carried in his shoulders. He was worried.

"They gotta be in there," Jesus implored.

"We movin' in or what?" Ariel asked Rick.

I drew my PPQ, stepping forward. "I didn't get all dressed up for nothing."

Daryl shifted his weight, eyes never straying from Jesus. "How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trashcan?"

When things settled down I needed to hear the whole story. Firecrackers in a trashcan? It was like he was my long, lost relative.

"You don't."

"We'll get your people," Rick declared though his tone said he wasn't thrilled with the idea. "You're staying here with one of us."

His eyes went wide and he turned to Deadpool for support. She merely shrugged, "That's the deal."

"Don't look at me. If it was up to me we'd already be gone," I said.

Ariel snorted, drawing his weapon. Glenn shifted closer to his wife, brow furrowed.

"Will you stay?"

"Yeah."

I was thankful she didn't put up a fight. Manhandling a pregnant woman wasn't an appealing prospect. I didn't even want her on this trip, but she was by far the most diplomatic person in our group by a long shot. If we had any hope of negotiating a trade agreement with this community we needed her.

"I'll stay with her." Everyone gaped at Merle who stood tall despite the scrutiny. "Don't look so surprised. I can be thoughtful."

"You're staying so you can shot him in the head if this is a trap, aren't you?" He ducked his head at my question, cheeks tinged with red. I knew it.

"Y'all go, we'll be fine. Just be careful," Maggie added, smiling at her husband while taking a step closer to Captain Hook.

Rick pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, slapping them on Jesus who _did not_ look happy.

"We'll be careful," Rick said, "Take care of her."

Merle nodded, weapon already in his hands. Clearly he interpreted "take care of her" as kill Jesus.

"Just hurry," Jesus said, voice strained. I felt for him. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what he was going through.

"If you hear me whistle, shoot him."

Maggie didn't hesitate, raising her weapon and pointing it at the back of his head while Merle copied the action.

"I will."

"I will."

Maggie and Merle spoke at the same time then paused, turning to each other. The former looked a little concerned she was so in tune with the eldest Dixon. Merle looked a little concerned he was channeling his inner pregnant woman. Glenn just looked concerned.

"Don't worry Glenn, I'm sure you'll find someone else," I joked, shuffling back to avoid his slap to the arm.

Rick rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out of his head, turning and opening the door.

I followed him, pausing briefly beside Jesus. "If they're in there, we'll find them."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." I said we'd find them not that they'd be alive when we did.

We broke into teams so we could scour the building faster. I ended up with Ariel, the two of us walking slowly down the hall. He stopped at the end, peering down another hallway. I heard muffled screaming then walkers growling. Ariel raised his red, bushy eyebrows, and I motioned for him to go. We moved forward side-by-side though it was a tight squeeze given his sheer size. He looked even larger stuffed in this tiny hallway, like a red-headed Kolachi bursting at the seams.

A walker popped out from a side room, and I immediately sunk my knife into her head. Ariel lunged forward, grabbing a man by his throat, slamming him into the wall. I jumped to my feet, grabbing his wrist, trying to stop him from killing the man.

"Ariel, no!" I yelled, "He's alive!"

He startled, the fog clearing from his eyes. He looked distraught as he examined the weak, injured man he'd almost killed in cold blood. He took a step back just as Daryl and Glenn rounded the corner, running at full speed.

"Come on man, let's go!" Daryl yelled. He grabbed my hand as he passed, pulling me behind him. "Come on!"

We sprinted from the building, picking up Jesus, Maggie, and Merle on our way back to the RV. Jesus looked relieved to see his people alive, and relatively unharmed. I took my assigned seat wedged between Daryl and Ariel, eyeing the stranger across from us warily. Jesus sat beside the injured man, assessing his injuries.

"You okay, Freddie?"

Freddie swallowed hard, chin low. "For a second back there, just when I thought he was gonna..." I shifted uncomfortably, forcing myself not to look at Ariel. "I saw my wife. She died before all this. Just when I thought it was over, there she was...clear as day."

No one said anything mainly because what could you say? Jesus put a hand on his shoulder, face solemn.

"Thank you," Freddie said, looking at Ariel then me, "Thank you both."

I wasn't sure what he was thanking us for, maybe _not killing him_. It wasn't entirely Ariel's fault. The guy looked terrible so it wasn't a stretch to see why he'd initially mistaken him for a walker. Problem was we all knew that wasn't the _real reason_. We were great at pretending.

Ariel said nothing, simply watched the man with an unreadable expression on his face. Merle didn't appear about anything, adjusting his knife stub as he sat nestled between Deadpool and Rick. Daryl bit his thumbnail, and I cleared my throat trying to ease some of the awkwardness from the situation.

"Sure," I replied, cringing at my own words.

This right here was why Rick brought Maggie. None of us could respond to one simple statement without sounding like a complete douche.

We hit a bump in the road, the RV dipping noticeable while Rick reeved the engine, trying to regain control. The vehicle shuttered to a stop, refusing to budge. I put two fingers between the blinds, looking outside, and confirming what I already knew. We were stuck.

"Do you think it'd help if I got out and pushed?"

Daryl smirked. "It might."

My mouth dropped open. Did he...did he just quote Star Wars? I think I fell in love with him all over again.

"We're stuck."

Jesus stood, "No worries, we're here." We all got out, standing behind him. "That's us. That's the Hilltop."

The community was aptly named since it sat atop a hill. From a strategic standpoint it offered a good defensive posture. No one could get within five-miles of this place without being seen. The ground was saturated with water which confirmed Jesus' statement about farming. They even had a decent wall surrounding their community for protection. All-in-all it was a decent set-up.

Jesus led us down a path towards what I assumed was the front gate. Daryl fell into step next to me, rifle in his hand.

"Be ready," he grunted, eyes straying to Jesus. I glanced down at my weapon then back at him. "Just sayin'..."

"Just saying...I'm _always_ ready."

He pursed his lips, "Smart ass."

"Love you too honey."

"Stop right there!" a guard atop the gate commanded.

Our group fanned out, weapons raised and pointed at the guards though it seemed like overkill. They were holding spears. I'd bet my last piece of jerky those guys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with those pointy sticks.

"Woah," Jesus said, turning to face us, trying to deescalate the situation.

"Ya gonna make us?" Daryl asked the guard.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?"

I held my rifle steady, one of the guard's heads lined up in the crosshairs. This wasn't exactly the welcome you expected when someone offered to trade with your community.

"Open the gates Cal. Freddie's hurt." He turned to address us. "They get antsy standing up there all day, doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons. Then we'll open the gates," Cal countered.

"Why don't y'all come down here and get 'em?" Daryl snarled. I snuck a peak at him, barely resisting the urge to fan myself because that was H-O-T. "Focus Red."

I rolled my eyes, but turned my attention back to the William Wallace impersonators.

"Gentlemen, look, we vouch for these people, alright? They saved us out there," one of the guys we saved added.

The guards made no move to comply causing Jesus to bristle, his commanding when he said, "Lower the spears."

"Look, I'm not taking any chances." I already knew where Rick was going with this so I was ready when he said, "Alex."

"Yep."

I took a deep breath, quickly lining up the shot before squeezing the trigger. A millisecond later the bullet pinged off the metal tip of Cal's spear.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed as the bullet pried the weapon from his hand. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

Jesus' mouth dropped open, and he turned. I lowered my rifle, waving like a dork.

"Why don't you tell Gregory to come out here...or...I could let her loose?" Rick tone was light, in direct contrast with the clear threat.

I was partial to the " _let her loose"_ part. That sounded fun. It'd been a few days since I stretched my legs. Unfortunately, Jesus didn't find the prospect appealing.

"Did you see what just happened? We don't stand a stance against you, but still, I'm letting you keep your guns." His eyes traveled to each of us as if to hammer home the point we held the advantage despite being on his turf. "Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like you people. I trust you. _Trust us_."

Trust wasn't exactly something we excelled at. Rick considered the offer, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I nodded, letting him know he spoke the truth. Not that I needed to. If they had ammo they wouldn't be holding sticks with spoons tapped to the end. When Rick finally nodded we all lowered our weapons.

"Open the gates, Cal."

The rusted gate groaned a moment later. I stayed in the back, wanting to keep everyone where I could see them. Jesus waited until I passed before falling into step with me.

"That was a hell of a shot."

"I was aiming for his chest."

My rebuttal made him trip over his feet, and I winked at my husband who simply shook his head.

"Is it bad I'm a little disappointed I didn't get let loose?" I asked Merle who'd yet to relax.

"Days still young li' sister."

Damn straight.

The inside of Hilltop was more impressive than the outside. There was a massive mansion sitting in the middle of the community flanked by numerous portable buildings, and smaller more rustic structures that were clearly made post-apocalypse. I saw a garden overflowing with vegetables, and even livestock confined in makeshift pens. They might not have ammo, but they had other things. Things we desperately needed. You couldn't eat bullets.

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them," Jesus explained, playing tour guide.

"How did people find out about this place?" Deadpool questioned.

"That's called Barrington House." He pointed at the mansion. "The family that owned it gave it to the state in the 30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50-miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down."

I took field trips to the local YMCA when I was in school.

"Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security."

"Except you can't do a damn thing if you see someone coming," I added, ignoring Deadpool's chastising look. Rick didn't bring me to play nice. I was here to keep them honest, and rack up a body count if things got spicy.

Jesus smiled, undeterred by my statement. "True, but I'm hoping we can change that."

Meaning they'd scratch our backs, if we scratch theirs. I'd scratch just about anything for some farm fresh eggs.

"Come on, I'll show you inside."

The inside of the mansion was exactly what you'd expect, extravagant, pristine, and utterly ridiculous. The YMCA was looking better and better, at least it had a pool. I bet every kid in 50-miles was bored to tears when they were forced to come here.

"Good gracious, Ignatius," Ariel exclaimed, eyes scanning the lavish interior.

I seconded that notion. I had no idea what it meant, but it sounded on point. I walked the room, taking in the fine art and delicate crystal, my boots tracking mud on the original hardwood floors.

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms."

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick asked.

Frankly neither option held much appeal to me, but to each his own I suppose.

"We plan to build. There are babies being born."

A man opened a set of double doors, striding out dressed in business casual attire. My spidey senses went haywire, and I adjusted my rifle. I didn't trust men sporting men's leisurewear during the apocalypse. The last one we crossed paths with tried to kill us with a tank.

"Jesus, you're back." He surveyed our group, face cautious. "With guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the train running on time around here."

"I'm the boss," he added, arms spread wide, smile big and fake. I despised him instantly.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community..."

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" He put his hands on his hips, eyes skimming over us before stopping on Daryl and me. "Well, hello, I didn't see you there."

I really hoped he was talking to Legolas because, eww.

"We're fine," Rick countered, trying to draw his attention.

Gregory waved him off. "What, pray tell, is your name?"

"Technically it's Daryl, but he prefers Katniss," I answered, eyes narrowed. If he took another step I was going to rack up my first body count, farm fresh eggs be damned.

Gregory tipped his head back, laughing and pointing at me like we were sharing an inside joke. My husband was pretty damn close to losing what was left of his shit so I slid my hand into his, more so I could restrain him than to calm him down. The Hilltop leader clucked his tongue, eyeing our joined hands curiously.

"Really?" He nodded in appreciation, finally acknowledging Daryl's presence. "You'll have to tell me how you managed to snag such a lovely creature."

"Gregory, I really wouldn't..." Jesus tried, but it was too late.

Daryl lunged, and I locked my fingers around his much larger hand, digging my heels into the floor. Merle grabbed his brother's shoulders, barely able to keep him from choking the life from Gregory. Rick and Ariel planted their bodies in front of the Hilltop leader, more for our benefit then his. Killing their leader wasn't the best way to start off a friendly negotiation.

"No offense..." he started.

Too late. I was offended. I was going to have to talk to Jesus so I could nail down this guy's schedule so I could avoid him. It was that or I'd end up killing him, and I had way too many people _in that particular line_ to squeeze him into the rotation.

He reached forward, bowing slightly like he intending to shake my hand, probably kiss it or something equally absurd. My eyes bulged, face twisting in disbelief. Daryl mumbled threats under his breath, no longer attempting to kill him, but seething at my side all the same. His brother released him, but stayed close, probably so he could help him murder the asshole.

"If any part of you touches me you won't be getting it back," I threatened.

I knew we were supposed to be playing nice, but no one said getting hit on was part of the deal. Nothing was worth this bullshit, sorry farm fresh eggs. Regrettably, my threat didn't have the intended effect. If anything he looked _more_ turned on. Freak with a capital **F** this one.

He laughed, and I fought the instinct to cringe. "I like a woman with spunk." Oh gross. He turned his attention to Rick, "Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down when you're ready. It's hard to keep this place clean."

"Sure." Rick's response and tone were at war with each other.

This was already taxing, and we hadn't done anything except walk in the front door.

Jesus sighed, rolling his eyes. "Follow me."

He went upstairs, the others following. Daryl made a point of bumping into Gregory with his shoulder, daring the man to comment. He didn't, but he did keep his beady, little eyes glued on me. I followed my husband, only stopping once I was on the expensive rug displayed in the middle of the room. As slowly and deliberately as possible I wiped my muddy boots on it, glaring at Gregory. He pressed his lips into a hard line, eyes slowly traveling down to the mud streaks now prominently displayed on the off-white, expensive looking rug.

"Oops," I offered with a mocking shrug.

A large part of me wanted him to fly off the handle. An excuse to punch him in his white teeth would do wonders for my morale. Unlucky for me he held it together, barely.

"Accidents happen," he ground out sharply before heading back to his office.

"You think that's gonna help?" Ariel asked, peering down from the stairs.

"I'm not here to play nice." That was Maggie's job.

"Prick better watch his mouth," Daryl grumbled.

"I saw we kill 'em all, and steal the cow." The only person shocked by Merle's declaration was Jesus. The elder redneck smirked, shrugging like he hadn't just suggested slaughtering a community save a cow. "No offense."

Jesus swallowed hard, but nodded, leading us to four rooms each with an on-suite bathroom. Deadpool and Rick paired off as did Maggie and Glenn. Ariel and Merle grumbled a little about having to share a room, but at least it was large enough they could beat off in relative privacy. Jesus smiled when he opened the last door, gesturing for us to proceed.

The room was just as lavishly appointed as the rest of the house. Four poster bed, lace comforter I hated even more than our white one back in Alexandria, and antique furniture complete with doilies. I hadn't seen a dollie since I lived with my grandparents. The crocheted fabric was supposed to be white, but had faded to an off-white color over time. I rubbed a few frayed ends between my fingers, biting my lip.

"A tad impractical I know," Jesus offered, his smile tight. I set it down, rolling my shoulders. "I apologize for Gregory. He can be a tad...eccentric at times."

"Is eccentric another word for fuck-tard?"

Jesus laughed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yeah." Daryl said nothing, standing motionless next to the bed. "Anyway, feel free to use whatever's in the bathroom. I'll be back in a bit to bring you down."

As soon as the door closed I walked to the bed, pushing on the mattress, the springs squeaking. "Wanna do the wild thing, and see if we can break a piece of Virginia history?"

I was only half kidding.

Daryl drug his teeth over his lip, eyes intense. "If I get ya near that rickety piece of shit I guarantee it won't be standin' when we're done."

I believed him. We'd demolished our room at Alexandria, and it was constructed this century. If we went at it in this termite infested mansion the roof might collapse.

I grinned, walking to the window. There was an old latch securing it that took a few tugs to open due to being painted over. Our room was facing the backside of the community so there were no trailers, and as far as I could see no people. The windows were long and narrow with protruding brick ledges jutting out at the bottom. I slung my rifle across my back, bracing my hands on the sides of the window.

"What the hell ya doin'?"

"Sneaking out."

Daryl put a hand on my arm. "Ya can't go out there by yurself."

Sure I could.

"This is the perfect opportunity to snoop. We need to know more about these people, what they have, what they don't have. Better yet, what they're hiding. The more information we have, the better our bargaining power."

"I'm going with ya."

"You need to stay here." He wasn't a huge fan of the idea. "It'll be easier for me to get these people talking if I'm alone." He cocked an eyebrow. "I love you to the moon and back, but you scare the shit out of people babe. Scared people don't talk, they run."

"Ya don't exactly give 'em warm and fuzzies."

"We're going to sit down and talk about you using the phrase warm and fuzzy when I get back." He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, his giant biceps bulging. "The point is I can _pretend_ to be friendly. You...not so much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I grinned, waving a hand down his body. "This makes people either want to run screaming in the other direction, or rip your clothes off. Neither reaction is a particularly helpful for what I have in mind."

He squirmed, uncomfortable with my assessment of his hotness.

"Be careful."

I leaned closer, brushing my lips against his. "Always am."

"How ya plan on getting' back in?"

"Front door."

Sneaking out may be a necessity, but sneaking back in was not. I had no intention of concealing my actions. It was a power play. I wanted them to feel their vulnerability. It may be the only way we gained the leverage we needed. Right now they had the upper hand. It was time to even the playing field.

He smirked, "Asshole deserves it."

"Jesus will probably be pissed."

Daryl scoffed, "He deserves it too after breakin' into our house."

"Then promptly getting his ass beat," I added, climbing out the window. I was tall enough my feet easily reached the ledge below. Daryl ground his teeth together as he watched. "Buy me some time."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Jump on the bed, make some moaning noises, crack a whip if you have to." No one would come within spitting distance of this room if they thought we were getting freaky. The tips of his ears got red, and I smothered a laugh. "Sorry, I've been reading some of Carol's porn books."

"Just hurry," he replied.

Of all the places I'd snuck out of the mansion was probably the easiest to navigate. Clearly, breaking and entering wasn't a concern back in the day. They may as well have propped up a ladder by each window.

Life in this community moved at a slower pace. People walked the muddy streets going about their business while stopping for small talk at every opportunity. It was surreal watching them tend to livestock, and pull weeds from the garden. I even spotted a blacksmith working on constructing more shitty spears. Women laughing drew my attention. They were working near the portable trailers, washing clothes and hanging them on a line to dry.

I walked the streets, taking everything in. A few people looked at me with suspicion, but no one said anything, and they all smiled politely. Since we'd arrived with Jesus they believed we weren't a threat which helped my cause. I approached a woman filling a bucket with water, giving her a friendly smile when she noticed me.

"Hi."

She stood slowly, "Hi." Her tone was polite, but I noticed she kept an arm's length between us just in case. "You were with the group Jesus brought in."

"That's right."

She nodded, "Well, welcome to Hilltop. I'm Amy."

"Alex." A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between us before I added, "You guys seem to be doing pretty well here."

"We're making it. That's all you can do these days." Amen sister. "Where are you from?"

"A place like this," I answered non-committally. "Ran into Jesus by chance."

"Lucky." She was clearly suspicious of our motives which meant these people weren't as stupid as they appeared. Her eyes traveled to my rifle and she swallowed hard. "You have guns, ammo?"

"Some."

We had weapons. They had food. We both needed what the other had.

"Where's the rest of your group?"

"Getting cleaned up. Gregory said we were free to walk around."

"Huh." That surprised her which wasn't shocking since it wasn't true. "Well, if there's anything you need let me know."

"As a matter of fact there is." She waited for me to continue, and I held up my arm, gesturing to the old bandage wrapped around it. "We rescued your doctor, Harlan, he said to stop by when I had a chance to get this looked at. I think it might be infected."

The concern on her face made me feel like shit. Lying sucked.

"Of course, his trailer is right over there. He should be there."

Harlan smile when I stepped in his trailer, wiping his hands on his pants. The shelf behind him was lined with various bottles and vials, and I saw copious amounts of needles and sterile instruments lying on the table.

"Hi," he paused, at a loss as to how to address me, "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Alex."

"I'm Harlan." I smiled at him. "What can I do for you?"

"My husband took a lump to the head on the way here. He's got a headache. I was hoping you had some Tylenol you could spare."

"Of course, just gimme a sec. They were in my pack. I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."

He disappeared into a back room, and I quickly moved to the shelf. Running my hand along the pill bottles, taking note of the medicine they had and in what quantities. We had virtually no antibiotics at the moment while they had an entire shelf with both IV and pill antibiotics. If we needed more incentive to work out an agreement with these people we'd just found it.

"Here you go."

I'd just returned to my original spot when he strolled in, dropping two white pills in my hand.

"Thanks." I nodded to the shelves behind him. "Quite the stockpile you have there."

"We've been lucky lately, but..." he trailed off, hesitant.

"It's fine. You don't have to tell me."

He swallowed hard, rubbing his hands on his pants, a nervous habit. "No, it's just...you guys, you're fighters?"

"Yeah." We were _a lot_ more than that.

"We need fighters. We need weapons."

Yes, they did, but it didn't sound like he was talking in hypotheticals. He was scared of something or more accurately, someone.

"That's why we're here. To try and work out a trade." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What are you scared of?"

His eyes flashed with suspicion. "What makes you think I'm scared?"

He was sweating despite the cool temperatures. His eyes were constantly darting around the small space like he might need to grab as much as he could carry and run at any moment, and his hand unconsciously slid to the puny knife at his waist every few seconds.

"Just guessing."

He licked his lips, blowing out a harsh breath. "I shouldn't be telling you this. Gregory...he decides if...but you guys saved me. I owe you." I'd take a guilt confession. "I've been here since the beginning, me and my brother both came here. He's a doctor too." Overachievers. "Almost as soon as the walls were up a group arrived demanding half our supplies or they'd attack."

"What'd you do?" I already knew the answer, but I wanted him to keep talking.

"Gregory agreed, handed over half of everything, food, medicine, everything we had. They demand the payment on a regular basis in exchange for letting us live. Even though we complied they killed someone, a kid, just to keep us in line."

It wasn't hard to believe they'd fallen victim to such a group. They were all but defenseless, ripe and ready to be taken advantage of by the wrong people.

"You said you had a brother." He nodded sadly. "Where is he?"

"They took him."

Doctors were a rare commodity. Having all the medical supplies in the world wouldn't do shit if someone didn't know how to use them.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. I knew what it was like to lose a sibling.

"Me too."

"I should head back. Thanks for the Tylenol."

I kept my head down as I headed back to Barrington House, mulling over Harlan's confession. Jesus' actions with Rick and Daryl made more sense now. He was desperate. This place had to scavenge enough supplies for themselves _and another group_ or else their days were numbered. No wonder he stole the truck.

When I strolled in the mansion Daryl and Ariel were downstairs whispering in hushed tones. I looked between the men, Daryl shaking his head subtly as a signal not to ask. The enormous redhead held a necklace in his bear paw, face thoughtful.

"Find anythin'?"

Deadpool and Rick walked downstairs. He raised his cop eyebrow, pointedly looking at me then the front door.

"Don't look at me like that. I tried to convince him to pass the time playing hide the cannoli." I pointed at my husband whose ears were beet red. "He said no, and I got bored."

Deadpool smirked, shaking her head. "What's the verdict?"

"It is what it looks like. A handful of homemade melee weapons they're more likely to kill themselves with. Their food supply is light years ahead of ours. They have a decent stockpile of medication, and a real doctor."

"We gotta be careful. These asshole's are slicker than owl shit."

The conversation ground to a halt, all eyes moving to Merle who was casually leaning against the banister upstairs. I squinted, trying to mentally translate the redneck, but it was no use so I glanced at Daryl who closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

"So there's things they need," Rick mused, sitting on the arm of a chair, completely ignoring Merle's redneck gibberish.

"That's not it. They made a deal with another community. Half their supplies delivered at regular intervals."

"In exchange for what?" Ariel barked, outraged.

"Not killing them."

Jesus walked into the foyer, eyes widening when he saw us all standing around. "I was just coming to get you."

Maggie stormed out of Gregory's office in a huff, slamming the door behind her. "Asshole."

Daryl glanced at me and I sighed. If Maggie was losing her cool we were truly screwed. She was the most patience, reasonable person I'd ever met, and right now she looked ready to skin the Hilltop leader alive.

"So...how'd it go?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"That piece of..." She took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it for a beat before blowing it out slowly. "He didn't go for it. Says we have nothing they need."

"Bullshit," Rick sneered, turning to Jesus. "You really think you can survive with what you have?"

"We want to generate trade. Gregory does, but ammo isn't something we urgently need."

Rick scoffed, "Well, how's that?"

Jesus pursed his lips. "The walls hold." I shook my head at his ignorance. Walls weren't magically. They might offer semi-decent protection from walkers, but they wouldn't save them from the living. "We just brought in more medicine."

"Medicine you wouldn't have if it wasn't for us," I added.

He sighed. "Gregory just wants the best deal possible."

So did we, and we were going to get it. One way or the other.

"Yeah, well, we want things too." Daryl pushed off the wall next to me, pacing the room like a caged lion.

"We came all this way, we're gonna get it." Rick glared at Jesus. It wasn't a statement. It was a promise.

Jesus licked his lips. "I will talk to him, and we will work this out." I wasn't going to hold my breath. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

"We can," Deadpool answered.

Looked like the Rick-tator-ship now had a plus one. How cute.

"Yeah," Rick agreed.

There was commotion outside, people yelling. The front door opened, and a man ran in. Gregory came out of his office, barely sparing us a passing glance before addressing the newcomer.

"What's wrong?"

"They're back."

Well that wasn't ominous or anything.

Daryl's eyes slid to me, and I bit my lip, following the others outside. Three people were walking towards us, two men and a woman. They didn't look happy, and I discreetly pulled the PPQ from my holster.

"Ethan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?" Gregory asked.

"They're dead."

Gregory inhaled sharply. "Negan?"

Ariel and Daryl tensed. The name, it meant something to them.

"Yeah," Ethan answered, clearly disgusted.

"We had a deal."

Was Negan part of the group Harlan told me about? The deal being Hilltop gave up practically everything in exchange for not getting dead.

"He said it wasn't enough," another man said, "Was the drop light?"

"No," Gregory lied.

I drug my tongue over my teeth, irritated. He'd known the drop was light, and sent it anyway, sent his people knowing the deceit might cost them their life.

"They still have Craig." The woman's eyes shifted to Ethan, and I saw the sympathy in them.

"They said they'd keep him alive." He stepped closer to Gregory. "Return him to us...if I delivered a message to you."

"So tell me."

Ethan put a hand on his shoulder, whispering, "I'm sorry."

Then he drove a knife straight into his gut. Gregory gasped in pain, Maggie and Glenn each taking an arm and lowering him to the ground. Deadpool and Rick jumped forward, wrestling him away from the leader.

"You gonna help?" Ariel asked, body ready for a fight.

I held my gun loosely in my hand, watching the crowd. This wasn't any of our business. Not until we had an agreement in place so as far as I was concerned they could fight it out. I was only stepping in if one of us was in danger.

"A knife to gut might do him some good."

Ariel snorted, moving to intercept a man. I saw Merle out of the corner of my eye putting his knife stub to a man's throat in order to stop him from moving in. With him watching our backs I could focus on the threats in front of us.

Ethan fought Deadpool and Rick, screaming that he had no choice. Rick drove his knee into the man's stomach causing him to stumble. He wasted no time jumping on top of him then hitting him repeatedly in the face. His companion tried to intervene only to be tackled by Ariel who should have easily subdued the smaller man. However, somehow he ended up on his back with the man's hands around his throat. Daryl cursed, running to his aide. I cringed when I heard him snap the man's arm in half, turning my attention back to Rick.

He was still wrestling with Ethan, attempting to pry the bloody knife from his hand. My anxiety started ramping up. The two were evenly matched. When you factored in the Hilltop man's rage it gave him the slight upper hand. Ethan bucked his hips, throwing Rick off him, and suddenly he was on top with the knife at Rick's throat.

"Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"

Glenn froze, hand wrapped around his weapon. Deadpool reached for the sword on her back, eyes deadly, but there was no way she'd be able to take him out before he killed Rick. Glenn was in the same boat. Even if he could somehow draw his weapon in time he wasn't the best shot. Any miss, big or small, and Rick died.

I raised my arm and fired without a second thought. Ethan's head snapped back, a bloody hole replacing his left eye. His body slumped forward, blood pouring from the fatal wound directly onto Rick's face, coating him gore. He grunted, pushing the dead man to the side, and rolling out from under him. He stood slowly, breathing hard, eyes finding mine. He nodded jerkily, but my attention was focused on the growing number of spectators.

The Hilltop residents were stunned, standing motionless, unsure how to handle the escalation of violence. Well, if I doubted Jesus' assessment that they didn't have fighters I sure didn't now. We'd attacked them, killed one of their own, and they'd been helpless to stop us. No wonder Negan waltzed in here and took their shit.

Rick looked like something out of a horror movie, face and clothes covered in stark, red blood. He sneered at an elderly couple who stood nearby. "What?"

"Ethan!" the man Daryl subdued screamed, holding his broken arm. "You killed him!"

"He tried to kill Gregory, and me," Rick defended unapologetically.

The woman lunged at him, landed a weak punch to his face. Deadpool moved fast, throwing her to the ground.

"Don't," she threatened.

"Drop it now," a man yelled, creeping towards me with a spear.

I pointed my weapon at him, " _You_ drop it."

"I'll kill you!"

"I'd like to see you try." The Dixon brothers closed ranks around me, identical lethal looks on their faces.

Jesus left Gregory side, planting himself in the middle of the standoff, hands raised. "Everyone, this is over!" It didn't look over. In fact, it looked like it was just getting started. " _It's over_! Ethan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. _He_ did this. And these people stopped him."

"What can I do?" Rick asked.

"Put the gun away. All of you." He glanced at us. "You've done enough."

I only dropped my weapon when Rick did, but I didn't holster it. I didn't like the way some of these people were looking at us.

"You need to know that things aren't as simple as they seem."

Rick smiled. "We know."

"What? How? What do you know?" Rick merely shrugged, refusing to answer. "Just...give me some time."

Sure no problem. We'd just be here, covered in blood, surrounded by people who wanted to kill us. Take your time.

Daryl checked on Ariel who laughed off the incident while Harlan examined Gregory. We went back inside, waiting in an enormous study.

"Doctor Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live," Jesus announced when he finally strolled through the door.

"So what happens now?" Deadpool was aiming for casual, but her voice was far too tense.

I crossed my ankles, leaning my head back and resting it on the couch, trying to get comfortable. Apparently this furniture was made to look pretty and that was it.

"Things like that don't usually happen here," Jesus admitted softly, "But uh, it's settled."

"We heard the name Negan," Rick said, stepping forward, "A while back Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

A dead man for starters.

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls The Saviors. As soon as the walls were built, The Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us...Rory. He was 16 years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat."

That tracked with what Harlan told me.

"Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal," Maggie concluded.

"Half of everything, our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to The Saviors."

"And in return you get mercy," Glenn concluded.

If Jesus was surprised by the summation he didn't show it. He simply nodded solemnly. I didn't envy him. These choices, we'd been faced with them before, and they never ended well. Forcing someone into a corner only had two outcomes, submission or war.

"Why don't ya just kill 'em?" Daryl asked. The mere notion of submission was alien to him. He'd die before he allowed that.

"Most of the people here don't know how to fight...even if we had ammo."

"Well, how many people does Negan have?"

I didn't like Rick's question because I knew where this was going. This was the leverage we needed to force their hand. They had a problem, and we were the solution.

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as 20."

"Ya don't know?" Merle accused, "Sorry son, but that answer sticks in my throat like hair on a biscuit."

"Uhhh," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. " _English_ Captain Hook."

Daryl pushed off the wall, ignoring our exchange. "Hold up, so they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them _half of everything_? These dicks just got a good story. The boogie man...he ain't shit."

"Well, how do you know?"

We didn't. That was the problem.

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles." Ariel pointed a meaty finger in my direction. "And we didn't even have our secret weapon."

No, they had a rocket launcher. I was pretty awesome, but not as awesome as a rocket launcher. We wouldn't be able to take out this group without putting ourselves at incredible risk.

"Yeah, we'll do it. If we go get yur man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will ya hook us up? We want food, medicine, and one of them cows." He glanced down at me, quickly adding, "And a chicken."

Jesus looked to Rick who merely shrugged. "Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with."

I snorted, shaking my head as Ariel and Merle shared a laugh. We were all so fucked up it was disturbing.

"I'll take it to Gregory," Jesus promised.

When he was gone Rick sat down opposite me, elbows on his knees. "If anyone isn't on board with this I need to know now." No one said anything, but a few looks were shared. "Alex, what do you think?"

I let my feet slide off the table, sitting up. "We need to be careful. Negan, The Saviors, they aren't your run of the mill survivors."

"Neither are we," Ariel barked.

"Would we kill an innocent kid to prove a point?" Dead silence. Thought so. "We have limits. They don't. That makes them dangerous."

"You don't think we should do it?" Glenn asked.

"I'm not saying that. We don't have much choice at the moment. Things back in Alexandria are..."

"Shitty," Daryl supplied, and rolled my eyes.

"We'll do what we have to, but this won't be easy. We need to be prepared to take lives and loses." Heavy losses, I added silently.

"We can do this," Rick stated, " _We have to do this_."

Our course decided it was up to Maggie to convince Gregory. He'd go for it. He had to. What other choice did he have? Sooner or later The Saviors would walk in here and wipe this place off the face of the Earth. We were the only ones who could stop that, maybe.

Daryl sat down beside me, biting his thumbnail. "What is it?"

I rubbed my temples, sighing. "Maggie's right, this is going to cost us something."

He put his arm around me, pulling me close, my head falling on his shoulder. "We've been there b'fore."

Had we? Somehow this felt different. It felt like we were at a fork in the road. If we went down this path, nothing would ever be the same.

"I hope you're right."

He hugged me harder, like he alone could protect me from what was coming. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya."

I didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't myself I was worried about.

* * *

 **The deal that will change TWD forever has been struck...duh, duh, duh. Ready or not, here come The Saviors.**

 **Who do you want to see survive?**

 **I'll be honest, I agonized over some parts of the upcoming chapters (still am in some parts). Hope you guys are excited to see what happens.**


	67. Old Habits Die Hard

**Old Habits Die Hard**

Everyone was crammed in the church listening to the Rick explain the deal we'd struck with Hilltop. He did his best to put a positive spin on it, but when you were staring down the barrel of a war, one we might not win, fresh vegetables and eggs hardly seemed worth it.

His position was that confrontation was inevitable because eventually The Saviors would be knocking on our door . He wasn't lying, but them knocking on our door was a far cry from taking the fight to them. Merle shifted beside me, taking Francine's hand. She was scared, and rightfully so.

"This needs to be a group decision. If anyone objects...now's your chance to say your peace," Rick said, opening up the floor.

Everyone looked around, the same skeptical expressions on their faces, but no one was brave enough to voice opposition. That was, until Mr. Miyagi stood, which didn't surprise me. He wasn't scared to be the lone dissenting opinion, and he wasn't scared of Rick. Not many people could say the same.

"You're sure we can do it? We can beat them?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us...yes, I'm sure."

I fought to keep my face expressionless. It wasn't that I necessarily disagreed with Rick, but assuring victory, especially against a largely unknown enemy, was unwise. The risks of this decision couldn't be understated. He was making it sound like our victory was a forgone conclusion, and that confidence made me squirm. There was confident and then there was cocky. We were leaning towards the latter.

"Then all we have to do is just tell them that," he countered.

Rick shifted his feet. "Well, they don't compromise."

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. It's a way out, for them, and for us."

Daryl glanced at me out of the corner of my eye, and I bit my lip. I respected his point of view, but it would never work. Not this time. Not with men like this. Sometimes if you wanted peace you had to go to war.

"We try and talk to The Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety." Rick shook his head, dismissing the idea. "No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"Where there's life, there's possibility."

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling so hard I pulled a muscle.

"Of them hitting us," Rick countered, the two friends locked in a standoff.

"Hey, we're not trapped in this." Mr. Miyagi turned his attention away from Rick, looking for an ally in the church. "None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan...they always come back."

"They come back when they're dead too."

Put one on the scoreboard for Mr. Miyagi.

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before."

Daryl's squeezed my hand, uncomfortable with the mounting tension. I rubbed my thumb on the back of his hand, trying to soothe him, but his eyes stayed locked on the pew in front of us as he bit his thumbnail.

"I'm not talking about the walkers," Mr. Miyagi said in a firm voice.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now too, but who else wants to approach The Saviors, talk to them first?"

Aaron stood, addressing the group. "What happened here, we won't let that happen again. _I won't_."

One thwarted attack under his belt and suddenly he was G.I. Joe. It was worth bearing in mind the majority of the fighters in this town came from our original group. It wouldn't be Eric and Goggles attacking The Saviors. It would be me, Daryl, Merle, Rick, Deadpool, and the list went on.

"Looks like it's settled. We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it. We live. We kill them all."

He talked about it like we were discussing the pros and cons of Maggie's vegetable garden. That was what killing had become now, a necessity, a forgone conclusion. Kill or be killed was only non-negotiable rule of this new world.

"We don't all have to go, but people who are going to stay here they do have to accept it."

With those parting words Rick left the church, head held high, ignoring the disapproving look of his pen pal. Those two were headed towards a confrontation. With Rick's pension for shooting everyone, and his friend's desire to save the world it was pretty obvious they didn't have a lot of common ground to stand on.

After the meeting adjourned Merle, Daryl, and I found a secluded spot to discuss our next steps. I leaned against a house, listening to the brother's debate the impending attack, watching the setting sun. They were in agreement The Saviors needed to die. It was the _how_ that had them bickering like children. Merle wanted to lob a few 1,000 grenades through their front door. Daryl believed stealth was the key to victory.

"Boy, we got too many people to play hide-and-seek, and I ain't got the patience for that bullshit," Merle grumbled.

"If ya had an idea that wasn't stupid as the day is long it'd die of fuckin' loneliness," Daryl countered, the two squaring off.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. There was only one way to end this argument that didn't involve shooting both of them in the kneecaps.

"He's right, there's too many people." The moment I spoke both men turned to face me. Merle wore a smug expression while my husband looked ready to spontaneously explode. "Katniss is also right. We can't be sure we have enough ammo to overwhelm them with force. We're liable to end up with our dicks hanging out if we try it."

"Where the hell does that leave us?" Merle asked.

Daryl figured out my train of thought a half-second before I answered, his eyes narrowing to slits, finger in my face.

"No," he barked, shaking his head just in case I didn't understand what _"no"_ meant.

"It's our best option."

"I ain't lettin' ya."

I snorted, "I'm not asking." He took a step forward, grinding his teeth. "When we tried to move the herd I accepted that I wasn't a part of the plan because it made sense. This is no different."

My husband said nothing, turning away from me with a curse. I heard him mumbling under his breath, but couldn't make out his words.

"Y'all gonna clue me in?"

I turned my attention to Merle. "We need to scope out The Saviors compound before we do anything. We have no idea what we're up against. We can't come up with a plan until we have more information."

Rick's plan of trying to fake our way in with a dead Gregory look alike had too m any variables. There were too many things that could go wrong.

"How ya plan on findin' that out?"

Daryl rounded on me, irritation twisting his handsome face. "Yeah Red, how ya plan on findin' that out?"

I raised my eyebrows, silently telling him to dial it down. I understood he didn't like this plan, but he didn't have to be a dick. Was I a dick when they came up with the plan to move the herd? OK, I was a little bit of a dick, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm not sure if you remember, but infiltrating enemy locations, collection intel, and getting out without dying was a key component in my former occupation."

Actually, it was the _only_ component.

"Ya think this is funny?" he snarled.

"I think it's a fact." He hissed in annoyance. "This is what I do. It's who I am. Why put people's lives on the line if we don't have to?"

He had no answer for that, shoulders slumping in defeat. I hated making him feel this way, but it didn't change the facts. I was the only one qualified to do this.

"Whatcha plan on doin'?" Merle asked, rubbing his jawline.

"I chatted up Andy before the meeting. He knows the general layout of the compound. I can sneak in take a look around then report back. If we know who we're up against, what kind of weapons they have, the guard rotation, we stand a better chance of coming out of this with minimal loss of life on our end."

"That simple."

My brother-in-law didn't sound convinced. It was fucking taxing when people constantly doubted your level of awesomeness.

"Basically." I walked up to Daryl, putting my hands on his shoulders. Once he relaxed I slid my arms around his chest, resting my head in-between his shoulder blades. "I'll be fine. Everything's going to be fine."

He shuddered, bringing his hand up and placing it over mine. "I know." Suddenly he turned to face me, holding my face in his hands. "Promise me ya won't take no chances."

I searched his face. He was terrified, but not of The Saviors. I held his gaze, taking a deep breath before answering with a firm, "I promise."

He nodded jerkily, accepting my answer. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. His brother muttered something about making out like teenagers, but I barely heard him over the pounding in my heart. Even after all this time one kiss, one touch, one look from him could bring me to my knees. That was the power this man held over me.

"I love you," I whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. "And I'll be back."

"Damn straight." I smiled, and he gave me his signature half-smile, half-smirk. "Love ya Red, always."

Our tender moment was ruined when a front door slammed. We all turned, watching Ariel lumber down the steps, a huge duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh crap," I mumbled.

He was headed straight for us, and I had a pretty good idea what was happening.

"What crawled up his ass and died?" Merle pondered.

Best guess, Apocalypse Barbie.

The colossal red-head stopped in front of us, chest heaving, face determined. "Can I bunk with you for a bit?"

I looked at Daryl, eyes wide. Daryl looked at his brother, face panicked. Merle was already shaking his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. All at once the three of us pointed at the other, heads shaking wildly in an effort to saddle anyone but ourself with the oversized Disney princess.

He sighed heavily, dropping the duffel bag to the ground. It was literally stuffed, clothes spilling out, toiletries crammed in every pocket, and weapons hastily strapped to various parts of the bag. Daryl and I didn't have that many personal possessions between the two of us. Who knew Ariel was such a clothes horse?

"We only have a queen size bed, and Daryl sleeps like a drunk octopus looking for its keys so..." My husband shot me a scowl I ignored. "It'd probably be best if you moved in with Merle."

The elder redneck got so mad his face looked like a cherry tomato, a noise that sounded like a dying cow slipping from his lips. I didn't know what he was so mad about. He spent most of his time at Francine's house putting his condensed milk on her waffle. That meant there was a perfectly good queen size bed Ariel could pretend he fit on that no one was using.

"Thanks man, really appreciate it." Ariel extended his hand to Merle who had no choice but to accept his new roommate.

"What happened?" Daryl asked, eyeing the duffel bag.

"Rosita and I decided to flush the turd." I scratched the side of my head, looking to the men on my left and right for clarification, but they were too busy trying to recover from shock.

"Just to be clear," I cleared my throat awkwardly, "We're not talking about actual shit, are we?"

Ariel chuckled, "That's why I like ya Alex. Ya don't bullshit."

"Thanks, I think."

"We ain't an item anymore." Oh...Oh! "Took your advice and told her the truth."

Oh dear lord.

"And by that you mean..."

"Figured it was best to rip off the Band-Aid." He paused dramatically, cocking a huge paw on his hip, forcing me to wave my hands in a gesture to continue. "Told her when we met I thought she was the only woman left on Earth. Turns out she ain't."

Fuck The Saviors. We had bigger problems on our hands.

The brother's gasped in horror, staring at me like I had a death wish. I shook my head frantically.

"That's not what I said." Ariel shrugged like the details made little difference. "That's not even _close_ to what I said!" My voice was so high pitched every dog in a 10-mile radius was now headed straight for us.

"Close enough."

He didn't sound the least bit upset over the breakup which made me want to punch him in the dick on Apocalypse Barbie's behalf. It was common courtesy to at least _pretend_ to be devastated for a few seconds. Everyone knew that.

"Damn Red," Daryl chuckled, enjoying watching me squirm. It wouldn't be so funny when he was a widower.

"I said to let her down easy you overgrown mermaid!" In my head I was already contemplating my escape plan. Was Canada far enough away, or did I need to go somewhere more remote, like the moon? "Why didn't you just say you needed space, or our lives are going in different directions, or I'm gay!"

"I paraphrased."

I buried my head in my hands, wondering if sacrificing myself to The Saviors might be the more human option. I once saw Apocalypse Barbie rip the spine out of a walker because she was bored. I was somewhat attached to my spine thank you very much.

"Daryl, Alex, Merle, Abraham!" Rick bellowed, waving us over.

Ariel and Merle made a beeline for Rick while I promptly made a beeline for another galaxy. Too bad my husband was a step ahead of me. He snagged my arm, hauling me behind him. I dug my heels in, even tried grabbing onto a nearby defunct light pole, but he possessed staggering redneck strength. My efforts didn't even slow him down. Honestly, I wasn't sure he even noticed. It was times like these I cursed his drool worthy arms. Woman who dated men with sticks for arms had a far better chance of escape in situations like this.

Inside the house Andy was hard at work playing Pictionary, but I was only half-listening. His intel consisted of knowing where the satellite compound was located, there were two guards at the front entrance, and there _might_ be a weapons cache somewhere inside. Deep Throat the man _was not_.

When he was done Rick outlined the basics of his plan which wasn't much of a plan at all. Pretending to killed Gregory then kill The Saviors was barely a concept, but everyone nodded their agreement that it was the best we could do. Outside I pulled Rick aside, quickly giving him the Cliff Note version of my idea.

"It's a risk," he said, "If you get caught it ruins the element of surprise."

"No, it doesn't. Plus, I won't get caught." He raised his cop eyebrow which meant explain. "Even if they catch me they have no reason to think I'm with a group, or that a larger element is planning to attack. They'll just think I'm a wayward survivor who decided to steal from the wrong people."

Rick considered my proposal, rubbing his chin. His eyes slid to Daryl who was standing eerily still.

"You good with this?" he asked the statue.

I was annoyed he was running it by my husband, but in his defense it was the smart play. If he wasn't on board he was likely to do something stupid, like come after me.

"It's a good plan." It sounded like he was chewing on nails, but he couldn't deny my idea was the best course of action. "We ain't got shit to go on. The more we find out b'fore we confront these assholes the better chance we got of gettin' out alive."

"What do you need?" Rick asked.

Less than an hour later I was in the armory with free reign which made Goggles uncomfortable. My rifle was slung on my back, PPQ in my leg holster, and as much ammo as I could carry strapped to my body. I also had a goodie bag just in case things went south.

"Lotta gear for someone who's just gonna look around." I glanced over my shoulder at Merle. He was squatting next to my half-full duffel bag, inspecting the contents. "Is this yur idea of subtle?"

I snatched the C-4 out of his hand, putting it back in the bag. "Better safe than sorry."

I closed the duffel bag, hefting it on my shoulder. Merle crossed his arms over his chest, blocking the exit. He had that look on his face. The one that said I wasn't getting out of the room without a conversation, and by conversation I meant fight.

"You going to say it or should we just start swinging?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "Why's everythin' gotta end in a fight with ya?"

"I'm gifted."

"I'm going with ya."

"No you're not."

"I wasn't askin'."

I narrowed my eyes, "Cute."

"Tell ya what lil' sister, ya got two choices...either I'm goin' with ya, or I'm tellin' Officer Friendly what ya _really_ got planned."

He was bluffing. He didn't know what I was planning. Even if he did, he wouldn't tell. Probably.

"I'm not planning shit." He chuckled. "It's a simple recon mission. That's it."

He nodded along as I spoke. "And the silencer yur totin' 'round for yur PPQ is for..."

Shit. He had me, and what was worse, he knew it. If I planned to only observe and report back I didn't need stealth weapons. Hell, I didn't need _any weapons._

"Fine, you can come."

Hopefully bringing my brother-in-law would help smooth things over with the hubby after this was over. If I was _really lucky_ I could blame the entire thing on him.

"Nice doin' business with ya," he drawled, pushing the door open and waving a hand forward.

"You're an asshole. You know that, right?"

He shrugged. "I'm gifted."

Rick didn't bat an eyelash at Merle's inclusion, simply nodding while we loaded the gear in a car. Even Daryl felt better knowing I wouldn't be alone, but I could tell he was pissed he hadn't thought of it first. Not that it would've made a difference. Rick wouldn't have let him go. He needed him here. The _group_ needed him here. He was a reluctant leader, someone everyone looked to in times of crisis. If he disappeared the night before an attack everyone would freak out, and the plan would unravel faster than a toupee blowing away in a hurricane.

I closed the trunk, opening my mouth to say goodbye to Rick, but Daryl took my hand, pulling me away from the group. Once we were away from prying eyes he took a moment to compose himself. When his deep, blue eyes finally met mine I gulped.

"I know yur plannin' something." I opened my mouth to refute the statement, but he held a hand up, stopping me. "Red, I ain't askin' for nothin' 'cept that ya don't lie to me."

I snapped my mouth closed. A part of me was relieved he knew me so well. I didn't want to lie to him, even if it was a lie of omission, but I would do anything to keep him safe. If that meant using the tools of my former life then so be it.

"I know now...how ya felt when I left to move the herd..." He swallowed hard, pulling me closer. "But I trust ya. I trust that whatever yur gonna do is to keep us all safe."

My lips trembled, guilt expanding in my gut like an overfilled balloon. "I'm sorry I didn't..."

"Nah, don't apologize. I know why ya did it." That didn't exactly make me feel better, but it was better than nothing. "Just promise me somethin'..."

"Anything."

"Come back."

"I will."

"Say I promise."

It was the same thing I said to him before the herd, before The Wolves.

"I promise."

He leaned in the last few inches, pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, tilting my head to the side. His tongue swept across my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth, our tongues meeting. He kissed me with fiery passion, his hard body pressed against mine. He tasted like smoke and smelled like motorcycle grease. The need for air pulled us apart, but we stayed close, our foreheads touching. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, smoothing down his leather vest as my nerves got the better of me.

"I love you Legolas."

He smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Love ya too Red."

"You keep looking at me like that and The Saviors are gonna have to wait."

"Don't sound so bad to me."

"Ya two done neckin'?!" Merle yelled, getting in the car.

Neither of us moved, but we both held a hand high above our heads, flipping him off.

"I'll see you again," I whispered.

"This side or the other."

Reluctantly I backed away from him. The sun had almost set. If we wanted to get to the compound and get set up we needed to hustle.

"Hey Red." I turned to Daryl, waiting. "Keep an eye on that asshole." He pointed at his brother who was currently chewing the guard at the gate a new one.

"There more chance of me killing him than anyone else laying a hand on him."

Daryl gave me a barely there smile, biting his thumbnail. Rick opened the passenger door for me and I got in while he leaned on the window, eyeing us both.

"We'll be a few miles out tomorrow in the early afternoon looking for a Gregory lookalike. You've got the walkie talkie?" I held it up and he nodded. "Let us know what you find out."

"You got it," I said.

"Be careful."

"Always am." He gave me the cop eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll be careful _this_ _time_."

He shut the door, and we were off. Neither of us said a word until Alexandria was out of sight like they might somehow still be able to hear us.

"How mad ya think they're gonna be when they find out?"

"Are we talking on a scale of 1 to 10?" He pursed his lips, not dignifying my question with an answer. "Depends on whether or not we pull this off." Merle turned to look at me slowly, face incredulous. "Which I'm sure we will."

If everything went off without a hitch then their annoyance at being misled would pass. Hell, most people would be ecstatic they didn't have to go through with this. If it didn't go well we'd most likely be dead so it wouldn't matter.

A mile out from the facility we stashed the car near the rendezvous point. Once it was camouflaged we gathered all the gear and walked on foot the rest of the way. We came across a few walkers, but opted to walk around them rather than kill them. We didn't know if The Saviors had a perimeter patrol, but if they did I didn't want them finding a string of dead walkers that led straight to us.

The compound wasn't hard to find. As promised there were two big-ass satellites on either side. The building itself was solid concrete. It looked more like a fortress than a satellite outpost, but I supposed ascetics weren't high on the list of priorities when it was built. It was functional not stylish.

"Alright, we'll drop the gear here. I'll head east and scope it out. You take the west. We'll meet back here in a few hours."

Merle nodded, handing me a throat mic system which I put on. "Captain Hook to Firecracker, radio check, over."

I pressed the button clipped on my black, leather jacket, pressing the mic against my throat. "Good copy." I handed Merle a small notepad and pencil. "Write down everything you see, how many people, weapons, exits, windows..."

"Anybody ever tell ya, ya talk too much?"

"All my ex-boyfriends," I joked, taping a finger lightly on my chin. "Do you think that's why we broke up? They always said it was them not me so I just assumed..."

"Smartass," he grumbled.

I smiled, "Let me know when you're headed back."

He nodded, and we went our separate ways. The front side of the building was housed the main entrance, and as promised there were two guards standing outside. They had knives strapped to their bodies, and rifles in their hands as they stood casually, smoking and talking.

The windows scattered around the building were covered with metal plating that would make them difficult, if not impossible, to penetrate. The left side of the compound housed a large, metal garage door that didn't appear to be locked from the outside. There was a side door opposite the garage door that was blocked by a large piece of metal that looked welded on, a makeshift lock to keep people out.

I sat in the woods, obscured by the dense foliage, observing the compound. I noted nine different people coming and going. They changed guards like clockwork every two hours, always two men manning the front door. They carried a variety of weapons, AK-47's, AR-15's, shotguns, and all had handguns and melee weapons as backup.

"On my way back to the rendezvous," Merle's gravelly voice reverberated in my ear.

Tucking my notepad into my pack I stood, squinting in the near pitch blackness of the night. I couldn't risk using a flashlight so I had to settle for moving slowly and tripping frequently. I was a few feet from our meeting place when my boot snagged on a tree root, and I fell forward. I hit the ground with an audible oomph.

"Ya know, ya talk an awful lotta shit for someone who falls down so much," Merle laughed.

I pushed up on my hands and knees, spitting a leaf out of my mouth. My plan for today was to be stealthy and badass. One out of two wasn't bad.

"I think I broke my pride," I groaned, wiping dirt from my hands.

"What'd ya find out?"

Merle and I exchanged notes while sharing a cold can of mush that the label said was green beans, and an expired can of Spam. We'd seen 24 people inside the compound, and another four who'd left in a vehicle a few hours ago. They had a fleet of cars and trucks staged on the backside of the compound well stocked with weapons and supplies perfect for a quick getaway. They were vigilant and smart, both of which were bad for us. They weren't late for shifts, they were always armed, and they kept potential exists and entrances locked or guarded.

"Twenty-eight's a lot," Merle mused, licking his spoon.

"Twenty-four," I corrected.

"They could come back any time."

True, but judging by the amount of gear the loaded before they left they'd be gone at least a day, hopefully more. My brother-in-law was right about one thing, 24 people were a lot to handle. When we agreed to deal with The Saviors in exchange for trade with Hilltop this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. This was the largest group we'd seen to date, and this was only a well-supplied, extremely fortified outpost. I didn't want to think about the numbers they had at their home base.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"We wait until they're hunkered down tomorrow night then go in through the service entrance. They don't put a man on it. It's just a piece of metal they used to weld it shut. Once we're in we take out the guards at the front door then work our way through the compound. Chances are the rooms in there are too small to house more than two people. We've got silencers so we should be able to keep it quiet. I'll place some party favors as we go in case we need to pull a Terminus."

"Only got a few detonators."

I sighed, "I can link the bombs together, save resources."

Linking the bombs together saved resources, but it didn't come without serious drawbacks. It meant we couldn't be selective about what we blew up. We pushed the button, it all went up. That was dangerous.

Merle looked skeptical which I didn't take personally. This wasn't the best plan. He tipped his head back, holding his arms out wide, closing his eyes.

"Is this a test?" I got the distinct impression he wasn't asking me. I stayed quiet, chancing a quick look up at the heavens just in case. All I saw were bright stars filling the night sky. Merle must have gotten the answer he was looking for because he dropped his hands, eyes meeting mine. "It's a test a'right."

I slapped his shoulder, "At least it's pass, fail which I always thought was easier."

He stared at me for a full minute, no facial expression, no movement of any kind. It didn't appear he was even breathing. The Dixon brothers were famous for this shit. It was like their version of Redneck meditation.

Finally he smiled deviously, wagging his eyebrows. "Two tears in a bucket..."

"Fuck it," I finished with a grin.

We spent the rest of the night watching the compound for any changes, making bombs, and taking turns pretending to sleep. We were forced to relocate a few times during the night due to walkers. Killing them this close to the compound was risky so we fled, losing them with speed they simply couldn't match.

Once the sun was directly overhead we separated. We used the last remaining hours to look for any deviations in their schedule or patterns, any information that might give us the edge we needed to pull this off. By the time the sun was sinking behind the horizon the only good news we had to go on was the four Saviors who'd disappeared yesterday still hadn't returned.

"The others will be starting this way soon," I said, shrugging on a backpack.

"If they ain't already."

By now Rick would know something was up. I took a deep breath, trying not to feel guilty about the walkie talkie that I'd never turned on sitting in the bottom of my pack. We should have made contact by now. If he hadn't already Daryl would be forced to spill the beans so he didn't rush in here thinking we were in trouble, and get himself killed.

"Let's go."

My heart was thumping as we skirted around the edge of the compound making our way to the service entrance. We stopped behind a tree, eyeing the side entrance for a moment to make sure it was clear, but just like every other time there were no guards. I rolled my shoulders, mentally psyching myself up, but before I could make a dash for the door Merle's hand wrapped around my upper arm holding me in place.

My eyes traveled from his hand, up his arm, to his face. I frowned, taking a step closer. He didn't look good. He was sweating profusely despite the cool temperatures, and his eyes were frantically darting left and right so fast I had no idea how he didn't throw up.

"Are you alright?" That was a rhetorical question. He was most decidedly not alright.

"I'm gonna admit somethin', but ya gotta swear not to say a word." When I didn't say anything he pursed his lips in annoyance.

"Fine, I swear." He narrowed his eyes, not buying my promise. Sighing I held up my pinky finger which only made him frown. "I pinky promise."

Recognition dawned in his eyes followed quickly by embarrassment. He glanced behind him, making sure no one was around before wrapping his pinky around mine. Now secure I couldn't divulge whatever he was about to reveal he took a slow, deep breath.

"I'm freakin' out a lil' right now."

I blinked at him. I don't know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't that. I opened my mouth to say something, _anything_ , but came up blank. Dixon's didn't freak out, and if they did they certainly didn't admit it.

"Are ya freakin' out?"

For a second I thought he might be fucking with me, but upon closer inspection I knew he was serious. He was freaking-the-fuck-out. It was so un-Merle-like I swallowed the jab sitting on the tip of my tongue, and pretended to give his question serious thought. After about 10-seconds of thinking about nothing but the weirdness that was the conversation I answered him.

"No, I feel good."

"Yur not even a lil' bit scared shitless?"

Do not kill him. Do not kill him. Do not kill him.

"Nope."

He paused, studying me intently with his head cocked to one side. "That's cause yur mentally unstable...ya know that, right?"

"Oh yeah, 100 percent. Let's go."

He seemed better after our pep talk, and we ran for the door. I covered him as he used a crowbar to pop the welded metal off the door. He cracked the door open, peering inside before giving me a nod and swinging it open. It was eerily silent inside the satellite station, too silent. Now I was freaked-the-fuck-out.

Per the plan, we went straight, quickly making our way to the front entrance. The two men on duty had their backs to us, talking quietly while peering through the glass doors.

"Son of a bitch better hurry up."

The shorter man scoffed, "He ain't coming, and if he does I guarantee he doesn't have that prick's head with him."

"Makes my dick hard just thinking about smoking one of those Hilltop bitches," the big one said with indifference.

As crazy as it sounded, and it sounded freaking crazy, their conversation helped ease some of the tension from my body. Looked like we'd found the evil which meant we didn't need to feel bad about what came next.

Merle looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I raised my weapon, finger curling around the trigger. I nodded then pulled the trigger at the same time he did. The men never heard us or the shots that ended their lives, our silencers muffling the sound. Bright, red blood splatter coated the front doors as the bodies collapsed to the ground.

We turned in unison, my shoulder brushing the wall beside me as we crept down the hall. When we got to a T-intersection I pointed to my right, and Merle nodded, going left. Wires crisscrossed the hallway with dim light bulbs strung every so often that made it easier to see. This place was a veritable maze of hallways with doors scattered on either side at regular intervals.

Outside the first door I stopped, pressing down on the handle. It wasn't locked, and I thanked my lucky stars as I quickly and quietly stepped inside. There were two men asleep on cots on opposite sides of the room. I didn't think about what I was about to do. I couldn't. Instead, I fired two shots, and was out the door in a flash.

"Two down," I whispered into the mic.

I checked up and down the hallway before crossing, and opening another door. It was a supply closet housing toilet paper, deodorant, and toothpaste. I snagged a tube of Crest, sliding it into my back pocket for Deadpool before backtracking.

"Three down." Merle's voice was barely a whisper in my earpiece.

At the end of the hallway was another door, and just like the last room this one accommodated two sleeping men. I tried not to think about how many people I'd killed as I squeezed the trigger, and truthfully it wasn't hard. I'd stopped counting a long time ago. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I pressed the button on my jacket, speaking softly. "Two down."

In just under 20-minutes we'd killed nine Saviors which meant there were still 15 somewhere inside.

I made my way down another hallway, pausing outside a door and pressing my ear against it. I heard nothing, but these doors were thick and metal so it didn't mean much. I cracked it open, peering inside, expecting to find more sleeping Saviors. Instead I found marijuana, lots and lots of marijuana.

Shutting the door I took off my backpack, fishing out a small clump of C-4. I pressed it against the door, carefully connecting the wires then inserting them into the clay, and activating the bomb. Hopefully my brother-in-law would never find out about this. He'd never forgive me if I blew Mary Jane sky-high. That was redneck sacrilege.

"Party favor one set," I told Merle.

"Four down," he reported.

Four, wow, he worked quick.

I'd just finished putting on my backpack when a tall, lanky man exited a room at the far end of the hall. His eyes widened when he saw me, his mouth opening to scream, but I squeezed the trigger before he could. His body flew back, slamming into the wall. He slumped forward, sliding down until he hit the ground, a trail of blood marring the wall. I ran forward, weapon raised, finger on the trigger.

"Neil, what was that?" someone asked from inside the room.

I busted into the room, not bothering with stealth. All it would take was one person sounding the alarm, and we were screwed. The shock of seeing me caused the man sitting up on the cot to falter for a moment. He recovered quickly, lunging for a weapon perched on the bedside table, but he was dead before his fingers touched the shotgun. Spinning around I fired again, killing a man coming at me with a knife.

Cursing internally I went into the hallway, dragging the large man back into the room and closing the door. I used the butt of my PPQ to break the light hanging directly in above their door, shielding my face from the falling glass. There was blood all over the place, but hopefully it was too dark for any casual passerby to notice. I placed a second charge outside the door just in case. Not like the dead guys inside would mind.

"Three down," I reported.

We were officially in the single digits with 16 people down. I should have felt elated. Instead, I felt like puking. I took a steadying breath, shoving the guilt into a ball and stuffing it away in the recesses of my mind. There would be plenty of time to hate myself later.

"Found the armory." My ears perked up. "Bastards got an arsenal." Well, on the plus side, they weren't going to be around to use it. "Two more down."

I made my way down another hallway, checking a few rooms and finding nothing but supplies and old satellite equipment. The last door housed two more Saviors who were sleeping soundly until I put a bullet in their brains. I barely paid attention to them. My eyes were fixed on the group of Polaroid's tacked to the wall. There had to be at least 20, all depicting gruesome deaths. The victims heads were bashed in, brains, blood, and bone splattered on the ground like the bodies, or rather just their heads, had fallen from an incredible distance.

I knew personally how much effort it took to beat a human being. Doing something like this, even with a blunt weapon, was exhausting. Worse it was unnecessary. A single blow to the head could be fatal. You didn't need to go to such extremes which meant they did this because they enjoyed it. They pounded their heads until they weren't even recognizable as human for sport.

My throat constricted, and I looked away, unable to stomach any more of the graphic details. I knew it shouldn't matter, but my guilt from earlier was easier to bear now. These people were sadistic. I may be here killing them in their sleep, but I wasn't going to take pictures and tape them to my ceiling so I could relive the experience.

I placed my last explosive charge outside the door just as Merle chimed in my ear that he'd taken out another two.

"Last party favor set," I said.

The garage was directly across the hall and I cringed. This was one of the bigger rooms in the compound. It could easily house the last four people which would be bad for me. These people didn't strike me as the type to sleep in a garage so I was hoping my instincts were right as I cracked the door open.

The darkness in the room reminded me of a thick, velvet curtain from a theatre. It smelled musty like water had seeped into the room causing mold and mildew to sprout. I could make out rough silhouette of shapes, but it was far too dark to see with any clarity so I closed my eyes, listening. I heard no snoring, no breathing, no sound of any kind. Stepping inside I closed the door quietly, taking off my backpack, and fishing out a flashlight. The light allowed me to take stock of the room. There were shelves lining either side of the garage that housed numerous car parts, cans of gas and motor oil, and more things I neither had the time nor mental dexterity to identify. Daryl would get a chub when he saw this place.

"Son of a bitch," I murmured, stopping in my tracks, stunned.

It was Daryl's bike. Daryl's bike was _in_ the Saviors compound. He told me it was stolen by a couple he'd tried to help, the rat bastard's. I knelt next to the machine, running my hands along the seat with a smile.

The door opened, the lights coming on a moment later. I stood, the sudden contrast between dark and light so drastic it was nearly blinding. A man and a woman stood only a few feet away, both stunned into temporary paralysis at finding me here. I saw at least two more hovering in the hallway outside the door. I'd found the remaining Saviors. Lucky me.

Once they recovered from their surprise the woman bolted for the door, but I put a bullet in her neck, and she dropped to her knees. She gasped and gurgled, clutching the fatal wound as blood gushed between her fingers. The man roared in outrage, charging me like a bull. He was a full head shorter than me, but he was built like a house, wide and strong. It didn't help matters he was severely pissed off.

I retrieved the detonator from my pocket, pushing the red button just as he slammed into me. The entire compound rattled, concrete shifting with an ominous groan as dust instantly filled the air. A fireball exploded through the door, consuming the men in the hallway instantly.

My back hit the ground, all the air punching out of my lungs in one painful puff. The man straddled me, wasting no time hitting me with a hard right hook that snapped my head to the side. My teeth cut the inside of my mouth causing blood to coat my tongue.

"You fucking punta!" he screamed in outrage, swinging again, "I'm going to kill you!"

"Firecracker, what the hell's goin' on?" I couldn't answer Merle, trying to deflect my attacker's blows. "Where are ya?"

He wrapped his large hands around my throat, squeezing hard. Instinctively I clawed at his hands, trying to ease the pressure so I could breathe. He grunted, pressing down harder and I felt my windpipe closing. My eyes were wide as I strained to inhale, barely able to suck in enough air to stay conscious.

I bucked my hips, trying to throw him, but he hardly moved. I looked around wildly for anything I could use, spotting a large wrench on the ground a few feet away. I gasped, giving up trying to pry his hands from my throat, and instead reaching for the wrench with my left hand. My fingertips brushed the cool metal as I leaned over, my hand desperately slapping the ground searching, my vision going black around the edges. The man was so lost in blood lust he never saw the blow to his head coming.

The blunt force of the strike disoriented him, sending him tumbling to my right with an audible groan. I sucked in air greedily, rolling to the side until I was on my hands and knees. He'd yet to recover, in the same stance as me, holding his bleeding head in his hands.

This fight wasn't over. Whoever recovered first would live, and I had no intention of dying today.

I dove over the top of him, curling my right arm around his neck as I went. I rolled onto my back, squeezing his neck in my arm as hard as I could. He was forced to roll with me, pulled almost on top of me when I came to a stop. With my right arm firmly pressed against his neck, and my left hand holding my right to lock in the hold he was trapped. He trashed under me, grunting as he pulled at my arms, his face turning red. I leaned back, pulling and straining with every muscle in my body in an effort to cut off his air supply before he got loose.

I heard shouting in the hallway followed closely by footsteps pounding on the concrete. If it was the remaining four Saviors returning from their run I was dead. I could only hope Merle took care of them before they reached me.

A sharp gab to the gut made me grunt, my body reflexively moving away. I cursed, pulling tighter on his neck. He gasped, movements and struggling becoming jerky and erratic. Still I squeezed, eyes closed, waiting for him to fall unconscious. I had every intention of killing him, eventually, but we needed information. The Saviors were more dangerous than any enemy we'd faced to date. They would retaliate for this attacked, and we needed to be prepared. I intended to pry every ounce of knowledge from this piece of shit.

His wheezing slowed, turning to sporadic raspy pants until he attempted to inhale and his body jerked, eyes bulging before drooping closed. I held him there for another few seconds just to ensure he wasn't faking the funk before releasing him, and rolling his body off me.

Merle burst into the room, weapon raised, face murderous. I was on my back, panting, the effort it took to turn my head a considerable challenge. He scanned the room quickly, relaxing as he lowered his weapon and turned in a slow circle, inspecting the carnage.

"Goddamn Firecracker," he mumbled, making his way to me, "Looks like a horror movie out in that hallway."

I grunted, rolling on my side before pushing up onto all fours. My throat ached, and my body had passed exhaustion four dead bodies ago. Merle pulled me to my feet, giving me the once over.

"I'm good."

His eyes slid to the unconscious man at my feet. "And him?"

"Alive, for now."

He nodded, kneeling beside him and restraining his hands. "Cavalry's here."

I winced. I wouldn't change what we'd done, but it didn't mean I was looking forward to the ensuing ass-chewing.

"You think they'd buy that we found them like this?"

My brother-in-law laughed, hard. Yeah, that's what I thought.

"Why's it smell like ya tried to hotbox this place?"

"Turns out sociopath's like to relax after a long day slaughtering people by smoking weed." Merle stared at me, mouth hanging open. "Don't...don't even."

"And you blew it all to hell?!"

"It wasn't like I had a lot of options," I defended, squaring off with him.

"Bullshit, ya could'va put those charges anywhere."

I sighed, "Seriously, we're standing in the middle of a bloodbath, and you're worried about the weed?"

Merle was a recovering alcoholic, drug addict, and anything else you could recover from. Problem was he didn't consider marijuana a drug. He claimed it was medicinal. He backed his argument with the fact that prior to the world going to hell in a handbasket some states were legalized the once illicit drug. No one could refute his statement because no one paid that much attention to things like that pre-apocalypse. When it came to drugs Merle miraculously turned into that guy from Good Will Hunting.

Our argument was cut short as Rick and the others ran through the door. Daryl hung towards the back, only relaxing once he was sure we were both alright. It didn't escape my notice he stayed well away from Rick, probably trying to steer clear of the blast radius. He looked ready to blow a gasket. His face was an unhealthy shade of red, and the vein on his forehead was as pronounced as I'd ever seen it, pumping so fast I was worried about him. Or I would be if it didn't look like he wanted to kill to me.

Merle and I looked at each other then back at the group, identical expressions on our faces. We both pointed at the other, speaking at the same time.

"He did it."

"She did it."

* * *

 **So this is a fairly large departure from what happens in the show, though the results are the same. I just couldn't imagine it happening the way it did with Alex in the mix so that was how this chapter developed.**

 **I liked putting Merle with her because the two of them are fun together, but also, let's be honest, Daryl wouldn't be OK with her going solo. His brother was the next best thing.**

 **Did you like the action?**

 **I hope so cause there's lots more to come.**


	68. Never Be the Same

**Never Be the Same**

"You could have been killed, do you get that?! You could have gotten Merle killed! How many people were in here, 20, 30?!" Both questions were rhetorical so I kept my lips sealed while Rick continued to vent. "This wasn't the plan Alex! You were supposed to surveil and report back...that's it!"

He'd already said all this, several times in fact, but this was a one-sided conversation so I didn't mention it. He needed to get this out, and honestly I deserved it. I'd intentionally misled him. I knew if I'd confided in him back at Alexandria he'd have stopped me.

"This goddamn Lone Ranger bullshit has to stop!"

 _Technically,_ I didn't go Lone Ranger. Merle was with me, but Rick wasn't in the right frame of mind to appreciate the discrepancy.

While I got my ass handed to me everyone else was rummaging through the compound, scavenging what we could as quickly as possible so we could get the hell out of here. The four wayward Saviors could return any minute. Not that we were particularly worried about four people, but there was always a chance someone got away, and brought back reinforcements. Plus, we'd made quite a ruckus in the last few hours so walkers would be joining us in droves shortly.

"Where the fuck did you get a bomb?!" He put a hand up to stop me from answering even though I had no intention of speaking. "You know what, never mind. I don't want to know! I'll just assume you made it out of bubble gum wrappers and scotch tape like _motherfucking MacGyver_!"

Bubble gum wrappers and scotch tape? That was preposterous. I was good, but I wasn't _that_ good. I didn't think he was interested in the semantics of bombs at this particular moment so I decided to keep that to myself.

After he was positive neither Merle nor I were injured any hint of concern flew out the window leaving him furious. When he first started screaming his face was bright red, but it had passed red about 10-minutes ago. He was now encroaching on a shade of purple that couldn't be healthy.

"Do you have any idea what it would do to _Daryl_ , to the _group_ , to _me_ , if you'd died!" I winced because I had considered that. I'd simply pushed the unbearable ache aside so I could get the job done. I'd done this _for Daryl, for him, for the group_. "We need you! I need you! He needs you! You don't get to unilaterally decide what's best for this group Alex!"

Clearly an Alex-tator-ship wasn't the same as a Rick-tator-ship.

A few people offered me sympathetic looks when they passed, but no one was brave enough to linger less they get caught in the crossfire. Not even my husband and brother-in-law came to my aide. When Rick hauled me outside Katniss simply gave me a knowing look that clearly said I was on my own. If I didn't know better I'd say he was enjoying this a little too much. Captain Hook found it downright hilarious. So much so he'd taken up a position a few feet away so he could watch it unfold in graphic, loud detail.

Traitors to the cause, both of them. If Rick killed me in a fit of rage they were going to be really, really sorry.

"I have to be able to trust you!" he continued, "You can't go off on your own every time you want to play hero!"

I curled my hands into fists, looking at his face for the first time since he started shouting. "Is that what you think?"

"I don't know what the hell to think! You leave promising to do nothing but look around, and we show up and find everyone dead and the building in flames!"

The building wasn't on fire, but I got his point. Saying one thing and doing another was frowned upon.

"I didn't want you guys risking your lives unnecessarily," I said softly.

Rick's anger deflated, his shoulder sagging as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "That's our choice to make, as a group, as a family. We don't trade lives Alex. You're not expendable."

It was common knowledge I didn't like talking about my life before the apocalypse. There were a grand total of three people who were privy to any meaningful details, but sometimes, like now, it was unavoidable. It was hard to explain to someone like Rick, who less than two-years ago had a respectable job and a family, that I was created for exactly this kind of devastation. The things he considered risky or life-threatening simply fell into a different box for me.

Did it mean there was no risk involved in taking out the satellite compound?

No, but I'd played the odds. I wasn't a normal person who'd acquired deadly skills and learned how to survive because the world suddenly ended. The apocalypse hadn't made me like this. I'd always been like this. The thought left a bad taste in my mouth.

"Do you remember what I told you when we talked to Morgan? About how we all have a role to play?" He nodded, but wasn't following. "This is mine. Killing...keeping us safe..." My voice cracked and I cleared my throat, licking my lips. "It's my part to play. I know you don't understand, but it's _why I'm here_."

His face went slack, eyes filled with anguish. "Alex..."

"It's fine. I came to terms with it a long time ago." He shook his head in disagreement, ready to offer a counterargument. "If I can protect my family...not just from death, but from killing, from remorse, from pain...I'll always choose this, _always_."

I'd do whatever I had to for these people, even at the expense of my soul.

Rick may be livid over what I'd done, but he was the only one. I'd seen the relief on Tara's face. I didn't miss the discreet sigh of relief shared between Glenn and Heath. For that reason alone I didn't regret my actions.

He exhaled harshly, stepping closer and wrapping me in a hug I had no right to. I put my arms around his waist, exhaustion and a healthy dose of disgust settling into my bones. Now that the adrenaline had faded I was left with the nothing but the aftermath. I'd killed 12 people in cold blood, many who were defenseless, sleeping. They never saw me coming which was exactly what I'd planned. Everyone else was changing, adapting to this new world in an effort to survive. For me, it was like the world changed to better suit my skill-set. For everyone else these changes made it harder to survive. It made me a more efficient killer.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling back and holding me at arm's length, "I may not agree with what you did, but I understand why you did it. Thank you for saving us from...this."

I nodded curtly, clearing my throat. "We should probably hurry and get out of here. There are still four Saviors unaccounted for."

He nodded, "We're almost done gathering supplies. We're going to talk to Primo, see if he'll give anything up then head out. You want to take a shot at him?"

"Nah, I'll just rile him up. You guys can handle it."

He left to interrogate Primo, and I walked around the building, looking for a moment alone. I needed to process what I'd done; figure out a way to live with it that didn't involve self-loathing.

In the back of my mind I knew I should be thinking about a counterattack. This wasn't The Saviors main base. Once they found out what happened they'd be looking for blood, _our blood_.

Unfortunately instead of finding solitude I found Apocalypse Barbie. She was sitting with her back against the wall, head down so I couldn't see her face, but it was obvious she was crying. For about a second I considered going back the way I came, hoping by some miracle she hadn't heard me, but then she lifted her head. Her eyes were red and puffy, tears streaking down her face. She swiped at them angrily, but a sob escaped her lips betraying her sorrow. Her shoulders shook as she cried, and I knew I couldn't leave. We may not be friends, but I couldn't leave her like this. I sat down beside her, resting my forearms on my knees.

"You can go," she said gruffly.

"I know."

She sniffled, raising her head slightly so she could look at me. "You know don't you?" I nodded. "He's such an asshole." Based on how Ariel broke the news they were no longer a couple I was on her side with this one. "I just don't get it."

I should have kept walking. I should have gone with Rick and beat the shit out of Primo. Anything would be better than this conversation. I never learned how to do girl talk. I hadn't had many friends in my life period, much less friends that were girls.

Despite my laughable inexperience I knew how she felt. It was a special kind of hell to love someone and lose them only to have to see them day in and day out. When Daryl and I weren't together at the prison the separation damn killed us both, several times in fact. Not being together, but still being forced into each other's proximity due to circumstances was excruciating.

She had it even worse. Not only was she forced live and work with a man she still loved, but she had a front row seat with which to watch his budding new relationship bloom. Even a blind man could see Ariel and Sasha making eyes at each other. They were still dancing around their relationship, trying to figure it out, but the attraction was obvious. It was only a matter of time.

I could handle a lot, but not something like that. If I was Apocalypse Barbie I'd be long gone. You may need people to survive, but everything changed when you were working on repairing a broken heart.

"It's never easy to walk away, but you have to let him go," I whispered.

She didn't acknowledge me. She kept her head down, crying quietly. "It's not cause of Sasha...I can make my peace with that. It's the feeling of... _betrayal_...that I just can't seem to shake."

The two were forced together out of a need to survive, and stayed together out of convenience. For Apocalypse Barbie convenience turned into love somewhere between Texas and Virginia, but the same couldn't be said for Ariel.

"I know you love him, but it's over." I watched all the color drain from her face, and felt my mouth go dry. I could easily be doing more harm than good, but I kept going because if our situations were reversed this was what I'd want to hear. "It's going to hurt, but it will get better."

"How do you know that?"

I smiled sadly, "Because nothing heals the past except time."

Her lips trembled, and she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to stave off another round of tears. "That's so fucking cliché."

"Yeah." I let my head rest on the building, eyes focused on the woods in front of me. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"What happens...what if I can't? What if it never stops..."

"Hurting?" She nodded and I sighed. "Want another bullshit cliché?"

She snorted, "Sure, why the hell not."

"Nothing lasts forever." Even hurt.

She chuckled, but it quickly turned into tears. This was fucking with her head. In all the time I'd known the woman I'd never seen her stumble. She was unflappable. She wore a suit of impenetrable armor encircling her body and mind that made her untouchable. The one and only time her cool exterior showed any kind of cracks was when Ariel was missing. Other than that her emotional state tended to hover somewhere between deadly and indifferent.

She'd opened herself to Ariel, loved him, and now she was left trying to put her life back together now that he was gone. They'd both made mistakes. Ariel's feelings for her never went as deep as they both wanted them to. He knew she loved him, and did nothing to discourage those feelings. He didn't do it intentionally or even maliciously. He wanted to love her. He just _didn't_.

On the other hand Apocalypse Barbie had to know. The two kept their relationship private, but I'd see the small gestures and heard the whispered professions of love he'd never reciprocated. She'd choose to ignore those red flags.

Their relationship was formed from necessity. It wasn't like the dating pool was overflowing these days. Everyone wanted a piece of their old life, a way to connect, intimacy, companionship, but choices were severely limited. Those kinds of circumstances tended to force people together who were better off apart.

"It's fucking with my head. Everything tells me to forget about him, about us, but I just want to go back...just for a minute..."

I raised my arm, intending to put it around her shoulders, but hesitated. Apocalypse Barbie was like a wild animal. She was just as liable to bite you as let you touch her. In the end I decided to risk it, slowly putting my arm around her. Her body immediately slumped against mine, her head on my shoulder, tears soaking my clothes.

"It'll be OK." It was probably bad this situation scared me more than attacking the satellite compound. "You'll find someone, someone who loves you with their _whole heart_. Someone who's with you because when they look at you they see everything they've ever wanted. That's one thing he can't take that from you...the love you were born to find."

She finally stopped trying to be tough, and let herself mourn. She sobbed, head on my shoulders, hands covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her distress. She cried with the force of a person vomiting on all fours, and I fought the urge to join her. My heart ached for her, for her loss, for how hard this would be to get over. I knew one thing with absolute certainty; she was far stronger than I could ever hope to be.

"Uh, sorry to uh..." I looked at Daryl who shifting his weight from foot-to-foot awkwardly, biting his thumbnail. "We're ready."

"Thanks," I replied, and he quickly walked away.

We both stood, and I pretended not to notice Apocalypse Barbie pulling herself back together. When she turned the only visible signs of her distress were slightly puffy eyes and a red nose. She held her head high, pushing her shoulders back. Her mask of indifference drop over her face like a veil, masking all other signs of her struggle.

"Thanks," she said stiffly, "I know..."

I held up my hand, stopping this train wreck before it killed us both. "We don't have to do that."

"Thank god."

We both smiled, and she walked off. Once she was out of sight I put my hands on my knees sighing in sheer relief. And here I thought the most difficult thing I was going to do today was kill a bunch of people.

"Didn't know y'all were close," Daryl drawled, taking a big inhale from his cigarette.

"We're not." I stood up, blowing out a breath. "But nothing brings women together like an asshole."

He grinned, flicking the smoke the ground, and stomping on it. He took a large step forward, only stopping once he was directly in front of me. His eyes traveled all over my face, down my arms and body. He even took the time to inspect my boots.

"Rick really laid into ya." I shrugged. It was to be expected. "Ya a'right?"

He wasn't talking about my ass-chewing.

"Yeah. Primo was the only one who got a hand on me."

"Prick ain't sayin' much." Not surprising. The Saviors were nothing if not loyal. "Counted 24 of them assholes inside."

My throat tightened, and it got difficult to breathe. The shame felt like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders. My husband could read my thoughts, but right now he didn't need to. My struggle was written all over my face. He said nothing because what could he say? Mass murder was pretty much a one way ticket straight to Hell.

He pulled me to him, and I buried my head in the crook of his neck. One large hand stroked my hair while the other rubbed my back. I hugged him as hard as I could because when we were like this, when I was with him, the world didn't feel so awful. I didn't feel so awful.

"Sorry guys, but we need you. We've got a problem." Heath delivered the news and left.

"We need a vacation," I admitted making him laugh. He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, linking our hands as we made our way back to the front of the compound.

When we rounded the corner everyone was on high alert. Merle had a gun pressed to the back of Primo's head. Glenn was pacing, a look of pure dread on his face. Everyone else was fanned out, eyes searching the woods. Rick held a walkie talkie to his lips, trying to convince whoever was on the other end to go for a trade.

"Who else is here?"

Daryl ground his teeth together. "Carol and Maggie."

"First I want to talk to Maggie and Carol. Make sure they're alright," Rick said.

It was the remaining Saviors. It had to be. I searched the woods, PPQ in my hand. They had to be close if they were able to describe the weapons we were holding.

"Rick, it's Carol. I'm fine but..." Her voice cut off abruptly, and Daryl snarled.

"Rick, it's Maggie. We're both OK. We'll figure thi..." Again the mic was pulled away before she could finish her sentence.

"You have your proof. Let's talk."

"This is the deal right here. Let 'em go, you can have your guy back and live," Rick offered.

"Two for one, that's not much of a trade."

Rick drug his teeth along his lower lip in annoyance. "You don't have another choice or you would've done something about it already."

We all stood there silent, waiting for her reply. She was right, it wasn't a fair trade, but they didn't have a lot of options. They could hand over Carol and Maggie to get Primo back, or they could kill our people and face almost certain death. From their perspective our group had slaughtered everyone at the compound while they slept. If they killed two of our own the retaliation would be swift and absolute.

"We'll get back to you," she said then the walkie talkie went dead.

You know, less than a minute ago I felt bad about killing these dickwads, but then this bitch took my friends hostage. I was over my guilt. I was going to destroy them, and I was going to make it hurt, bad.

"Daryl," Rick barked.

"Yeah." My husband ran for the cars, gathering weapons while yelling instructions to the group. We needed to move, and we needed to do it quickly.

"Alex."

In two strides I was in front of Primo. The piece of shit had the audacity to smile like he somehow held the upper hand. When I smiled back his good mood faltered. Without warning I rammed my knee into his gut. All the air in his lungs gushed out causing him to double over, his knees wobbling. I shoved his shoulders hard, and he went down, landing on his back.

"Can I be honest with you?" He was too busy trying to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide to answer. "I'm _bad, fucking, news._ I'm not your friend. I'm not gonna help you. I'm gonna break you. Any questions?

"Vete a la zorra," he ground out with a strangled cough.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Not very original Primo." I held my PPQ loosely in my left hand. "Where would they go?"

He said nothing, but his shit-eating grin spoke loud and clear. He was going to play the tough guy. Cool with me.

"Last chance, where?"

"I'm not telling you shit." To emphasize the point he hocked up a mouth full of blood and spit it on my boots. "You're not gonna kill me. You need me so you can get those bitches back."

People were so naive. Why did they always assume death was the worst possible outcome? He _was_ right about one thing though. I wasn't going to kill him, but by the time I was done he was going to wish I had.

I stepped on his left arm with my foot, immobilizing the limb. I raised my PPQ and fired a single round directly into the palm of his hand.

"Argh!" he screamed in agony as I stepped back, allowing him to clutch the wound to his chest.

"Wanna try again?"

His nostrils flared, blood seeping from the gunshot wound. "Fuck you!"

"Wrong answer."

I adjusted my aim, firing again, this time in his upper thigh. He howled in pain, rolling halfway on his side, tears flowing down his bloodstained face. I watched him impassively with an irritated exhale. I knew I should feel _something_ , probably remorse, but when I reached for the emotion there was nothing there. He'd taken my friends and ruined my favorite boots. Fuck him.

He continued to sob so I squatted down, looking him dead in the eye. I pressed the barrel of my gun to his crotch, and his eyes bulged in disbelief. He curled into a ball, trying to protect his family jewels, but it was useless. I had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"Answer my question or you're going to be singing soprano for the rest of your miserable life." So, for about five-minutes.

"OK, OK, please don't. I'll tell you. I'll tell you!" he cried. I didn't move, raising my eyebrows expectantly. "There's a slaughterhouse a few miles away. We use it as a safe house in case things go bad."

This group was organized.

"What else?"

He whimpered, looking around for help. The group stood a few feet back. Some of them watched the scene, their faces devoid of sympathy. Others diverted their eyes, but held their ground making it clear he would get no help from us.

"We use growlers to protect our supplies. We have radios; she'll have called for reinforcements. They'll send a team."

This group was _very_ organized.

"How long?" He hesitated so I jammed my gun into his balls with a growl.

"Forty-five minutes, an hour, tops. Please, that's all I know."

I stood, holstering my weapon. Rick nodded at me, but I ignored him, not willing to accept a thank you for something like that. Instead I made my way to Daryl who was waiting on his bike.

"Red..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Rick jogged over, Ariel trailing behind dragging an injured and crying Primo. He looked at my husband who pointed west.

"Tracks lead that-a-way."

Rick glanced at Primo over his shoulder. "Is the slaughterhouse in that direction?" Primo nodded, in too much pain for anything besides total cooperation. "Alright, we head that way. We're gonna stop a half-mile out, and ditch the vehicles so we can approach on foot."

Daryl twisted the throttle and we were off. It felt good to be on his bike again, to feel the wind on my face as I pressed my body firmly against his. At the half-mile mark we pulled the caravan to the side of the road. We left a handful behind to guard the vehicles while the rest of us continued on foot.

Rick pressed the talk button on the radio, "Have you thought about it? Talk to me."

Daryl and Merle were in the lead, eyes glued to the ground like it was spilling secrets which I suppose it was. The rest of us stayed a few feet back to let them work, keeping watch. Ariel got the honor of toting a still weeping Primo.

Static buzzed on the walkie talkie. "You weren't listening. I said I'd contact you."

"Would it make any difference if I said I was sorry about that?" Rick responded.

He and I had very different negotiation techniques.

"What do you think?" The static was so intense it was difficult to understand her words.

"I think we're gonna make a trade, so tell me where."

"We haven't agreed to that."

Rick smiled knowingly. "You will."

Wrong. They were going to _wish_ they agreed to a trade.

"You know what? I'm not so sure." The arrogance of this woman was audible even through the hissing static of the walkie talkie. "We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of a reward."

Primo scoffed, staring at the walkie talkie in shock. I snorted. What a newbie. Did he really think they gave a rat's ass if he lived or died?

"The other option won't work out for you."

There was a brief pause then, "We'll take our chances."

"This way." Daryl gestured straight ahead, following a faint line of footprints through the woods.

It took less than half an hour to find the slaughterhouse. The building was decrepit, most likely out of commission long before the world ended. It was the kind of place The Ghost Hunters would spend the night hoping to rub elbows with the spirit world. Bottom line, I wasn't looking forward to going inside.

"Asshole, are you there?"

Rick raised the walkie talkie, ready to respond, but I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. "Alex, what are you doing?"

"There was no static." He frowned, looking at the walkie talkie. No one else seemed to grasp the implications. "If she doesn't hear static she'll know we're close. She could panic. Hurt Maggie or Carol."

Glenn tensed at the mention of his pregnant wife being hurt, and I sent him an apologetic look. I had no idea why she was even here. Most likely she felt obligated to come because she negotiated the deal with Hilltop. Honorable, but stupid.

Rick exhaled harshly, "What do we do?"

"Rub the walkie talkie against your jacket when you talk. It will simulate the sound of static on her end."

"Goddamn genius," Ariel muttered, a proud look on his burly face.

I sent him a small smile, but immediately diverted my eyes when I noticed Apocalypse Barbie scowling at the back of his head. I wanted no part of that. I was neutral. I was _goddamn Switzerland_ where those two were concerned.

Rick did as I said, rubbing the microphone of the walkie talkie on his jacket as he responded, "I'm here."

"We've thought about it. We want to make the trade."

Again Rick camouflaged our position with a simply trick. She had no idea we were standing right outside the front door.

"That's good."

"There's a large field with a sign that says ' _God is dead_ ' about two miles down I-66. Good visibility in all directions."

"We'll meet you there."

The woman replied immediately. "Ten-minutes?"

Rick looked at me and I shook my head. "Fumble it. Say we'll try, but we can't be sure we'll make it in 10."

In reality we could make it to the location in two-minutes, but she didn't need to know that. I wanted her thinking we were a step behind not a step ahead.

"We can try, but...I don't know if we can get there that quick. Maybe..."

"Ten-minutes or your friends are dead," she said, not a single note of sympathy in her voice.

What a cunt.

"OK, OK, we'll be there, just don't hurt them."

Rick was really selling it. He'd come a long way from his days of delivering lackluster speeches that made you want to off yourself just so you could stop listening.

The woman didn't respond so we huddled outside the slaughterhouse, formulating a plan. My idea was simple, go in and shoot anyone who wasn't us.

"There's a little more to it than that," Sasha said with pursed lips.

"There's really not." Just ask the guys at the satellite compound.

Suddenly black smoke billowed into the sky. The dark smoke was a stark contrast to the clear, blue sky. It appeared it was coming from the roof, probably an air vent.

"That can't be good," Merle noted casually.

Probably not. The real question was whether it was bad for them or us. My money was on them. After all, Carol was in there. If anyone was setting things (people) on fire it was her.

We raced to the closest door, Daryl and I in the lead. Just as we burst through it Maggie and Carol stumbled around the corner both looking shell-shocked. Maggie's face was splattered with blood, and Carol's was ashen, her eyes distant and lifeless. The second Glenn saw his wife he rushed forward, enveloping her in a hug. She cried, sagging against him while everyone else continued to clear the immediate area.

Daryl put his hand on Carol's shoulder, asking the unresponsive woman if she was alright several times. When she didn't respond he told her we'd found her trail, used Primo to follow them here, but she didn't appear to hear any of it. She simply stood there, staring at us with a blank expression on her face.

"Did you start a fire?" he asked.

Her lips trembled as she shook her head, "Y-yes."

"Hey." Daryl put his fingers under her chin, tipping her head up so he could see her eyes. "You good."

"No."

"Come here."

Daryl hugged her, trying to offer her comfort. Maggie explained to Glenn they'd killed them all. She looked no better than Carol, but at least she was able to form actual words. I understood what they were feeling because I felt the same thing inside. I was just better at hiding it, better at not letting it out. I could function despite the revulsion festering in my head.

Carol continued to mumble incoherently. My husband was at a loss as to how to handle it so I stepped forward, taking the woman from him. She wrapped her arms around me, burrowing her head in my chest.

"I can't...I can't...please...I can't."

"Shhh, I got you. You're alright," I cooed, running my fingers through her short hair.

Daryl and Merle stood in front of us as Ariel drug a bleeding Primo into the hallway.

"Your friends are dead." Primo knew what was coming. We all did. "No one's coming for you so you might as well talk."

"Let him burn," Daryl mumbled.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, how'd you get the bike?"

Primo finally looked at Rick. "We found it."

Lie.

Carol continued to ramble incoherently in my arms. She was shaking uncontrollably; clutching a bloody rosary I knew wasn't hers. She was in shock, but there wasn't much I could do except hold her tight and continue to whisper false reassurances. I angled her away from Primo so her back was facing him. She didn't need to witness the next part. She'd seen enough. She'd _done enough_.

"Like hell you did." My husband sounded as mad as I'd ever heard him. Merle put a hand on his little brother's arm, restraining him. If touching the crossbow was against the first commandment then stealing the bike was against the second.

"We found it," Primo repeated, the reality of his situation sinking in.

Rick got in his face. "Was Negan in that building last night, or was he here?"

"Both." Somehow he was able to stand up straight, a look of determination sliding into place. He wasn't going to betray them. "I'm Negan shithead. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about so let's chat."

Rick took two steps back, pulling his cannon from the holster at his waist. "I'm sorry it had to be like this."

The gunshot that ended Primo's life echoed in the silent slaughterhouse. Carol startled in my arms, hugging me so tight it was difficult to breathe. I continued to tell her everything would be alright even though I knew it was a lie. We'd crossed a line. This group, whoever they were, wouldn't go away, not now. One way or another they would seek revenge.

After today nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

 **I have a little break planned for the next chapter. Things are so intense on TWD it can get a tad overwhelming.**

 **What did you think of Alex and Apocalypse Barbie's moment?**

 **Until next time...**


	69. Fast and Furious

**Fast and Furious**

"Merle can take any route so long as he doesn't use the main road until the highway 7 intersection," Glenn explained, Merle and I standing side-by-side in front of him. "Alex will take the 420 to 402 which meets up with highway 7 just north of the high school. First one back here wins."

"I'm gonna beat you so bad they're gonna need a straw to suck you off the highway."

I frowned at my brother-in-law, "Huh?"

Rick took a measured breath, eyeing us then the crowd standing a few feet away. He may have agreed to this madness, but he wasn't happy about it. Too bad, there was no going back now.

"We've got Sasha, Abraham, Aaron, and Noah positioned along the route. They'll track your progress, and let us know if we attract too many walkers," he explained, turning to face the crowd. "Everyone knows the fallback plan. If we give the signal we all head back to Alexandria immediately."

Everyone gave their assurance they would run like hell if things went south while Rick clucked his tongue and walked away. Deadpool gave me a brief hug before following, no doubt promising all kinds of sexual favors to get him to hold his shit together for another half-hour.

"See ya at the finish line lil' sister."

I hugged him. "See you in my review."

He chuckled like the idea of me winning was absurd, walking to his vehicle. Daryl stepped in front of me, his chest rising and falling as he let out a deep breath. He didn't look any more thrilled about today's extracurricular activity than he did when Merle first suggested it a few days ago. Not that I could blame him. The two of us racing for the sake of racing was hardly a genius idea, but we were desperate.

Ever since we'd killed The Saviors at the satellite compound no one had been using their time productively. Sure, we went through the motions, but there was a heaviness that followed us we simply couldn't shake.

I saw it in Carol's eyes every time she sat on the porch, smoking cigarettes she didn't enjoy with a distant, restless look in her eyes. It was obvious on Maggie's face, a face that somehow still looked far too pale after the slaughterhouse. I felt it whenever I crossed paths with Mr. Miyagi, his silent condemnation ringing loud in my conflicted mind.

The weight of our choices made it feel like we were trudging through knee high snow each day. Every task was harder, every emotion heightened. We'd done what we set out to do, but we were having a difficult time living with the aftermath.

It felt as if we were waiting for the metaphorically other shoe to drop. Something bad was coming. We all felt it. We just didn't know what to do about it. We needed a vacation, or a winning lottery ticket. Hell, I'd settle for a day without bullshit. Honestly, was that too much to ask?

So when Merle floated the idea of a friendly race to lift morale during breakfast no one laughed. Instead we immediately started plotting. Glenn and Ariel searched until they found a route that would accommodate the race while keeping us safe. Daryl and Aaron worked late into the night restoring an old Suzuki Hayabusa, adding modifications in an effort to boost the speed of the high performance machine. Maggie spent day and night attempting to sway the naysayers who believed our time was better spent on more pressing issues. She eventually sold them on the idea of a mini-vacation, apocalypse style. The woman could sell Popsicle's in Hell.

Deadpool had the hardest task, convincing Rick this wasn't stupid. The group toyed with the idea of trying to keep the event a secret, but honestly, we were crap at keeping secrets. Also, if anyone needed a break from the stress it was our resident dictator. The guy was wound so tight the next time he farted he was liable to float away.

When the samurai initially broached the subject she did it publicly hoping it might temper his reaction. She was wrong.

 _"You wanna do what?!"_

 _I winced, sliding further behind my husband in case Rick went nuclear. We were 10-feet away, pretending to inspect the perimeter fence so we could watch the fireworks. As Rick's screams got louder and higher pitched I was starting to think it might be safer on the other side of the fence._

 _"Will you just listen?" Deadpool tried._

 _"Listen? Listen, to you propose a fucking race and pretend it isn't the most reckless, irresponsible, insane thing I've ever heard?!"_

 _Daryl gnawed on his thumbnail, the nail bed bitten down to the quick. He was either going to need to pick another finger or change his stance on cannibalism. Ariel and Merle were beside us, pretending to examine a non-existent hole in the sheet metal. They flinched at Rick's tone, leaning so close to the fence their noses were touching._

 _"Have you looked around lately?" Rick scoffed, turning his back on her. "We can't keep this up. We're cracking. We need this. You need this."_

 _Rick rounded on her, "This isn't a game. Any number of things could go wrong. I won't risk people's lives for sport."_

 _Deadpool stared him down, chin high, shoulders back. My eyes bounced back-and-forth between the pair, the suspense making goosebumps break out on my arm. I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't her dragging him inside the house. Daryl turned to me, eyebrows raised in question, and I shrugged. I had no idea what was happening. Hopefully they didn't kill each other. That would put a damper on the race._

 _Roughly, a half-hour later the couple emerged. Deadpool had a satisfied smirk on her face, and Rick looked dazed, half-walking, half-stumbling down the porch steps. He stopped in front of us, a faint flush making his cheeks rosy._

 _"I uh, think the race is a good idea." He stuttered, swallowing hard several times before continuing, "Just...be careful and uh...be safe."_

 _Weren't safe and careful the same thing?_

 _He nodded, turning and walking away with a bemused expression on his face. Once he was out of earshot I turned to Deadpool._

 _"What'd you do to him?"_

 _She pursed her lips, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. "The waterfall."_

 _Daryl choked, probably on a fingernail. Ariel crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest, nodding in approval. Merle's eyes bulged, and he tilted his head to the side like he was seeing Deadpool in a different light. I laughed, holding out my fist which she promptly bumped._

 _"Every problem can be solved with a bullet or the waterfall," I mused. Sometimes both._

 _"Damn straight," she replied with a smile._

"Watch the turnoff to the 402. Ya try to hug that corner too tight, and yur liable to crash," Daryl instructed, handing me my helmet.

"I know." I had the route, including every potential hazard, memorized. "I'll be careful."

"This is the stupidest thing we ever done."

"What about the time we tried to fool Nugget into eating green beans by pretending they were potato chips?"

This may be the stupidest thing we'd ever done, but that was the scariest. That little girl _did not_ do veggies. He scoffed, shaking his head in disagreement, but I saw the slight tremor that raced down his spine. That day still haunted him.

"We need a day off, to relax, not think about The Saviors, pretend the world isn't overrun by walkers..." Or any number of fucked up things. "Think of this like the post-apocalyptic Olympics."

"Olympics?"

"Yeah, every four years everyone stops trying to kill each other, and focuses on winning gold medals. It's cathartic."

"I swear half the time I don't understand a damn word that comes outta yur mouth."

"Trust me, I feel exactly the same way."

He rolled his eyes, and I smothered a laugh. Two years ago eye-rolling wasn't in Daryl Dixon's arsenal. Now, he was so proficient he was liable to eye roll himself into another dimension.

I swung a leg over the bike, setting the helmet between my legs while I adjusted my gloves, and zipped my black leather jacket up as far as it would go. Not only was it cold today, but if things went bad and I laid the bike down the less skin exposed to road rash the better. My black pants were the nicest pair I owned, free of holes, and firmly tucked into my black, leather combat boots.

"Checked out his truck while he was tonguin' Francine." I made a face. Gross. We had a deal not to talk about his brother cave diving with his girlfriend. "Bastard made a few modifications himself. Gonna be close Red."

I shrugged, patting the gas tank. "So does this baby."

I had no clue what he'd done, but I knew whatever it was added horsepower to the already powerful bike. He attempted to explain it, but I stopped listening after he said "Red". Eventually he abandoned the lesson, and we had sex in Aaron's garage instead.

Daryl grinned, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss. "Kick his ass."

"With pleasure."

Daryl left, replaced instantly by Glenn. I finished securing my hair at the base of my neck so it wouldn't interfere with my helmet.

"Thought you might like this." He dropped his iPod in my hand, and I felt myself grin. "It felt appropriate given the circumstances."

"You're awesome."

"I'm just glad we have something to think about other than..."

"Yeah."

I put the earbuds in then tugged the helmet on, securing the strap under my chin. The matte black helmet was aerodynamic complete with a blacked out, reflective face shield. Unzipping my jacket I tucked the iPod in an interior pocket, careful to stuff the headphone wire in as well.

The key was already in the ignition so all I had to do was turn it, the lights on the small dashboard illuminating. Using my thumb I pressed the red button on the handle bar. The engine roared to life, the machine vibrating under me. At one time this bike was the fasted produced, achieving speeds up to 194 mph.

Gently twisting on the throttle I edged the bike to the start line. Merle was already there, windows down wearing his normal shit-eating grin.

"Damn Firecracker," he drawled, amusement dancing in his blue eyes, "Ya could make a man reconsider his stance on crotch rockets."

"If you ever say the word crotch to me again I'll murder you in your sleep."

He threw his head back, cackling like the insane person he was. Francine stepped in-between our vehicles, waiting for the signal we were ready. I reached into my jacket, hitting play on the iPod. I gave Merle's girlfriend a quick nod before slapping my visor down which would hopefully limit my view of the two lovebirds.

Daryl stood to my left in the crowd, biting his thumbnail, sandwiched between Aaron and Eric who were giddy with excitement, smiling and clapping. I gave him a thumbs up before focusing on the road in front of me, waiting for Francine's signal. Music pumped into my earbuds, and I beamed. Only Glenn would have this kind of ingenuity, and such an eclectic taste in music.

The drums pounded as the guitar thumped in the background. When an electric piano chimed in I twisted the throttle hard making sure to keep the brake firmly engaged.

Francine raised her hands above her head, eyeing us both dramatically for a beat before dropping her arms. I released the break, the bike propelled forward like I was shot out of a cannon.

 **I used to dream about how it would be**

 **When I would be older, when I'd really be free**

 **When no one would tell me how to live my life**

 **How to waste my days, how to spend my nights, my nights**

Riding demanded you walk a fine line, pitting skill and luck against failure, failure meaning a violent, painful death. I had no intention of failing, so I pushed those thoughts from my mind.

In the words of Ricky Bobby, if you weren't first, you were last.

I could see Merle's out of the corner of my eye for a split second before he yanked the wheel hard to the right, heading off-road through the woods. He had a more direct route to the finish line, but driving on unpaved roads meant sacrificing speed. It was a way to even the playing field. In a head-to-head competition I'd win in a landslide, his supped up truck no match for my super charged motorcycle. Different routes meant different challenges. Whoever navigated those challenges more efficiently, won.

I squeezed the clutch with my left hand, using my left foot to shift gears, the motorcycle charging forward. I hunched over the gas tank, trying to stay low so I'd be as aerodynamic as possible. The finish could come down to inches so every second mattered.

 **But I finally decided, yes, I finally decided**

 **I'm finding out the hard way**

 **Exactly what I want to say, I want to say**

I spotted Sasha at the first checkpoint. She stood just off the road with a walkie talkie in her hand sporting aviator sunglasses and an M16. I was approaching the 402 turn, and was forced to zig-zag between dozens of abandoned cars.

The road curved sharply to the right, and I leaned hard in that direction, careful to keep my knee from dragging. The bike allowed me to seemingly defy gravity. The tires balanced on a knives edge, any deviation or mistake having the potential for disaster.

As I zoomed around the corner there was a split second of panic where it felt like gravity might win, sending me crashing to the ground, but the physics of friction, aided by a slight increase in speed pushed the bike passed the danger zone. It was a thrill unlike any other. A crash at this speed would be deadly and painful. That thought alone should terrify me, but instead a wild grin spread across my face.

I had more issues than Vogue magazine.

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and roll, I'm old enough**

 **To rock and...roll, roll, roll, roll, roll**

 **Gonna rock!**

 **Gonna rock!**

 **Gonna rock!**

The 402 cut diagonally until it intersected with highway 7. Calling it a road was like calling Everest a big hill. It was hardly more than a crudely paved thoroughfare. The up side of this meant there was little traffic build up before the world ended so I didn't have a lot of cars to worry about. The downside was the few cars or pieces of debris that did exist were difficult to maneuver due to the narrow two-lane road. Not to mention a few of the potholes were bigger than my bedroom.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the speedometer crept past the 100 mph mark. Rick was right, this was unsafe and completely unnecessary, but damn if I didn't feel alive. I wasn't thinking about walkers or Saviors, the end of the world or what might come next. The only thing on my mind was the thrill of racing, and it felt amazing.

 **They tell me I'm young and I don't know**

 **What's the right thing to do, the right way to go**

 **There so afraid I'm gonna let 'em down, gonna mess things up, gonna mess around**

 **But I finally decided, I finally decided**

 **It's my responsibility**

 **I don't need nobody, don't need no one, don't need nobody**

 **I don't need anyone but me**

The music strumming in my ears made me feel like I was starring in my very own action movie. All I needed was a dramatic slow motion sequence, and I'd be just like Bruce Willis in Armageddon.

 _Independence on the left, Freedom on the right._

I was approached highway 7 which involved negotiation a tight U-curve. The severity of the turn forced me to downshift two gears in order to negotiate it safely. Abraham stood in the median beside an exit sign riddled with bullet holes, a huge smile on his face as he brought the walkie talkie to his lips, no doubt reporting I'd reached the second checkpoint.

I wondered how Merle was doing, and more importantly where he was. If I had any chance of winning I needed to at least meet him at the intersection leading back to the main road. If I was too far behind when he got to that point I had virtually no chance of making up the distance in time.

Once I was through the turn I twisted the throttle, revving the RPMs, and cycling through the gears as quickly as possible. When you rode at this speed it felt like the world was slanting downhill, the hand of God pushing at your back. Large insects zoomed towards me only to veer away at the last second. The woods flanking me on either side passed in a blur of indistinguishable colors. Taken as a whole it was strangely beautiful.

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and roll, I'm old enough**

 **To rock and...roll, roll, roll, roll, roll**

I missed this feeling, the power of it. The bike became an extension of my body. It was as if I merely had to think something, and the machine responded accordingly. This indescribable integration of man and machine combined with the tactile sensation of riding and exposure to the elements was addictive. It was living at its most basic, action and reaction melding together seamlessly.

 **Can't you see I'm changing?**

 **My smile is rearranging**

 **I'm taking full control**

 **You can't ignore me...any-more**

I was so lost in my adrenaline high I never saw Merle coming. His truck practically sailed through the air, landing hard on the road next to me.

"Shit," I cursed, swerving to the left to avoid a collision

Once I was certain I wasn't going to end up as roadkill I sent him a withering glare he couldn't see due to my helmet. Nevertheless, he shrugged halfheartedly, a devious grin on his face.

Asshole.

 **And now I believe I had have finally arrived**

 **I'm young and alive, I'm in my prime**

 **No one can stop me cause I'm on my way**

 **Gonna do what I do, gonna have my say**

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and roll, I'm old enough**

We were roughly 10-miles from the finish line when I noticed a blob of black in the distance that shouldn't be there. I squinted, trying to make out what it was blocking our route. We were tearing down the road, chewing up the distance in the blink of an eye. The details were now easy to make out, and I felt my stomach bottom out when I realized what was in our way.

Walkers. Tons of walkers.

There was zero chance I could survive driving through them, and there was no way I could safely stop in time. Therefore, I was left with only one option.

I pulled on the break hard, the tires squealing in protest to the sudden change in speed, white smoke billowing around me. Merle's truck shot past me, and I leaned to the right, angling the bike until I was tucked behind him. I increased my speed, my front tire damn near brushing his rear bumper.

Merle never let off the gas, plowing through the walkers like he was at a monster truck rally. Bodies were flying left and right, even a few up and over, barely missing me. I kept my head down, trying to avoid flying body parts while keeping pace with him. What was exhilarating only a moment ago was now terrifying.

Daryl was right. This was the stupidest thing we'd ever done.

 **Now I believe I have finally arrived**

 **I'm young and alive, I'll be just fine**

 **No one can stop me cause I'm on my way**

 **Gonna do what I do, gonna have my say**

 **And I finally decided**

 **Yes I decided, I finally decided**

 **It's my responsibility**

 **I don't need anyone but me-e-e-e**

The moment bodies stopped soaring by like macabre birds I leaned hard to the left, twisting the throttle. As a general rule motorcycles accelerate much faster than cars. Theoretically, this bike could reach 100 mph in just over five-seconds. Time to test the theory.

Slingshot, engage.

My bike blew past Merle, the machine humming under me. He must have the accelerator floored which allowed him to stay even with me for a few seconds. I could clearly see the finish line now. People were gathered on either side of the road, a hastily strung line of toilet paper crossing the road and flapping in the wind.

I leaned down, practically lying on the bike, maxing out the machines acceleration. There was a visceral difference between riding in a car and riding on a bike. My thighs squeezed both sides of the machine, fingers curled around the handlebars, gripping so hard it was almost painful. Every point of contact meant the difference between life and death.

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and roll, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old, I'm old enough**

 **I'm old enough to rock and rock, I'm old enough**

 **Ooooh!**

I rocketed across the finish line, easily beating Merle whose truck simply couldn't muster the speed necessary to keep up despite his modifications. I squeezed the break, slowing down until I rolled to a complete stop. Using the heel of my boot I pushed the kickstand down, turning off the engine, and pulling off my helmet.

The crowd was moving towards me like a flock of birds, but when I saw Daryl emerge at a jog I jumped off the bike, running for him. I couldn't remember a time I'd seen him smile so wide, and it made me giddy with excitement.

When we were only a few feet apart I launched myself into his arms. He staggered slightly, catching me with a low, throaty chuckle that made my heart speed up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

"I won!"

"Never doubted ya."

I squealed in delight as he twirled us around then crushed my lips to his. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was raw and aggressive much like the man delivering it. My hands curled in his long hair, pulling him closer while his hands roamed my back until they stopped on my ass. When he squeezed I moaned, grinding my body against his. A low growl rumbled in his chest in response.

"Uh, guys..."

Reluctantly I tore my lips from my hot-ass-husband, giving Glenn a halfhearted glower though he was doing us a solid. Everyone, and I do mean _everyone_ , was standing a few feet away looking everywhere but at us. I offered them a sweet smile, unlocking my ankles, and sliding down his body until I was back on solid ground. That may have made the spectators more comfortable, but it had the opposite effect on me. I felt every muscle and hard line of his magnificent body in my decent. I wanted to rip his clothes off and...

"Uh, Red..." My mouth snapped closed, and I turned to my husband, plastering an innocent expression on my face.

"Vulcan mind meld?"

"Nah, said that shit out loud." I didn't know if that was better or worse. "It's worse."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop my word vomit just as Merle pushed his way through the crowd.

"Firecracker!" he bellowed.

I smirked, eyebrows raised, waiting for the inevitable tantrum as a result of his loss. Everyone else held their breath, hoping no one died in the next few minutes. As a general rule Dixon's were notoriously temperamental, meaning we were half mental, half temper. It made life...interesting.

My brother-in-law, stalked forward, shaking his knife stub as he approached. My husband tensed, no longer sure if his brother was joking. I wasn't the least bit worried. I was here to kick ass and win races, and I'd already won the race.

"You've got to cross over the anger bridge, and come back to the friendship shore," I told him evenly, smothering a laugh.

The crowd collectively inhaled, taking a half-step back. My brother-in-law froze, face unreadable for a split second before his signature shit-eating grin appeared on his weathered face.

"Shake and bake," he drawled, holding out a fist which I promptly bumped with a chuckle. He turned, addressing the crowd, arms raised. "From now on, y'all can call us Magic Man and El Diablo!"

I was El Diablo.

"Jesus Christ," Daryl muttered with a head shake, walking away.

"Don't put that evil on me Daryl Dixon!"

* * *

 **Recently, I introduced the Triple Threat to Iron Eagle. If you've never seen the cult classic do yourself a favor, watch it.**

 **The kids loved it, and all these years later, so do I. This chapter is an homage to the scene where Doug and Knotcher race "The Snake".**

 **This chapter is meant to be lighthearted and fun. Sometimes TWD is sooo intense it can get overwhelming. I'm always thinking about the days in-between the mayhem and murder...what did they do?...how did they unwind?...doesn't everyone want to star in their own action movie?**

 **I sprinkled some Talledega Nights quotes in there because...why not?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the reprieve cause we're back at it next chapter.**

 **FYI, the song is Old Enough to Rock and Roll by Rainey Haynes. I highly recommend listening to it while you read. You'll find it on YouTube.**


	70. Death Is Only The Beginning

**Death Is Only the Beginning**

The reprieve the race provided lasted until we drove through the gates of Alexandria. The moment we crossed the threshold of the fortified community the constant rain clouds following us around returned with a vengeance. The change was swift and noticeable. The group's laughter died down until there was nothing but awkward silence in its place. There was a tense feeling floating in the air that put everyone on edge. We all went our separate ways, pretending we didn't feel the weight of the world on our collective shoulders, and it was back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Carol smoked on her front porch swing, a cloud of smoke and self-loathing surrounding her.

Morgan silently returned to practicing Aikido in the field every morning and afternoon like clockwork.

Billy Ray reported for his guard shift promptly each morning, hoping to prove his worth to the people he'd spurned by lying.

Gabby walked the streets, offering spiritual guidance to those in need while totting a semi-automatic rifle.

Essentially, life went on, one stress filled minute at time.

Early the following morning I walked up the porch steps, silently sitting down next to Carol. She took a long drag of her cigarette, fingers absently tracing the rosary in her hand. Bracing my forearms on my thighs I took a measured breath, eyes roaming our somber community. There were a thousand little things wrong right now, but one in particular weighed heavy on my mind. Mainly because it involved my husband.

"You can't just leave," I stated bluntly, not making eye contact with her.

She didn't refute my statement, and I exhaled harshly. I'd hoped I was wrong, that she wasn't planning on running, but I saw all the confirmation I needed in the way her shoulders slumped forward in shame. I knew how hard the aftermath of the Wolves and Saviors attacks were for her. In my eyes she'd done what she had to in both situations, but she wasn't so sure. In her head she played the events over and over, looking for alternatives, for mercy where she'd delivered death.

"At least talk to him first." If Carol left everyone would be heartbroken, but no one more than Daryl. "You owe him that."

She took another inhale from the cigarette, holding the smoke in for a second before blowing it out through her nose. "I don't know if I can."

"You can," I insisted.

"Why aren't you trying to stop me?"

The tone of her voice made me turn to face her. She looked on the verge of collapse, both physically and mentally. I may not think running would do any good, but I wouldn't take the option away from her. I knew how hard it was to live with the things you'd done. It suffocated you, haunted you. Sometimes running was the only way you could breathe.

I stood, ignoring her question. "Please don't leave him with nothing."

It took me a half-hour to find Merle who was standing guard at the back gate. I climbed the ladder, scanning the immediate area. It was quiet, no walkers or people.

"Abraham and the nerd leave yet?" I nodded, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. "Still don't get why he took that guy."

To say Billy Ray and Ariel's relationship was strained was an understatement, but the one-time fake scientist was determined to make amends. He could have just said he was sorry, but instead, he decided instead to prove his usefulness to his former protector.

Speaking of former protectors, I sighed watching Apocalypse Barbie leave Spencer's house. She kept her head down while she practically sprinted down the street in an attempt to get inside before anyone witnessed her walk of shame. Living here was like living in an episode of All My Children.

"Do you have it?"

Merle raised his eyebrows, slinging the rifle on his shoulder and digging in his back pocket. "Told ya I would."

He dropped a piece of cloth in my hand, and I swallowed hard, curling my fingers around it before shoving it in my pocket without looking at it.

"Thanks." I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.

"What is it lil' sister?"

I took a deep breath, trying and failing to control my shaking hands. I couldn't explain the feeling that was buried just below the surface, a foreboding emotion that put me on edge. There was no reason for it, no sane reason anyway, only my gut telling me to brace for impact.

"Tell me," Merle insisted, eyes serious.  
"There's a storm coming." He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He knew I didn't mean the weather. "Promise me something."

He didn't hesitate, answering with a swift, "Anythin'."

That was how it worked with Dixon's. Our loyalty to each other was unwavering. I had no idea if what I was asking of him would end up being his salvation or his demise. I wasn't a seer. I had no idea what was going to happen, only that _something_ was going to happen. I was playing the odds my request saved his life.

"When it happens...stay here, stay safe, keep Francine safe."

He frowned, "When _what_ happens?"

That was the problem, I didn't know, and by the time I did it would be too late to warn anyone.

"Just promise me." He'd know when the time came. We all would.

"A'right."

I struggled to blink back tears for reasons I didn't understand. "Say I promise."

I needed to hear the words. If he promised to stay here he would, even if he ended up hating me for it later. I'd rather have him alive and pissed than present and dead.

"I promise Firecracker." I stepped forward, hugging him. "It's all gonna work out."

"Yeah," I lied.

He didn't push the issue, letting me leave without further comment. By now this kind of thing was second nature to him. He was used to my crazy. He also trusted me. If I felt "off" he'd take it seriously. Lord knows it saved our ass more than once after the prison fell.

I kept my head down, striding down the street deep in thought, but was forced stop when Denise called my name.

"Can I talk to you?" I nodded, and she jogged to catch up. "Morning."

"Morning." The doctor looked nervous, holding a folded up map she repeatedly hit against her hand. "What is it?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you." Yeah, I'd guessed as much. "About an apothecary shop."

"An apothecary shop?"

"Yeah."

"OK?"

"It's a..."

"I know what it is. What I don't know is why we're talking about it." She handed me the map which I unfolded, frowning at a large red circle. "Still not following."

"That the apothecary shop. I saw it once, before the turn, and I think it's worth checking out." There was a catch. There had to be. It was the only thing to explain her nervousness. "So, I was thinking you and Daryl could take me there."

And...there it was.

I snorted, handing her the map and pivoting on my heel. She'd clearly expected that response, and wasn't discouraged, falling into step beside me, continuing to plead her case.

Up the road Daryl was fiddling with his newly recovered bike, a scowl on his face. He was happy to have the bike back, but looking at it reminded him of how he lost it. I couldn't count how many nights we'd laid awake, our bodies tangled while I listened to him recount the story about the burned out forest. The people he met there, he regretted sparing their lives. He viewed the mercy as weakness, and he hated himself for it.

He stood when he saw us approaching, eyes bouncing back-and-forth between me and the doc. He wiped the grease from his hands with on old shirt sleeve, eyebrows raised, waiting. I gestured to Denise, letting her know she had the floor. She went through her spiel, even going so far as to explain what an apothecary shop was. She completely missed my husband's mounting irritation which was understandable. Not many were well versed in the intricacies of rednecks.

"How do ya know they still got 'em?" Daryl's voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that made her squirm in discomfort.

"It isn't that far. I just wanted to check." She turned to me, looking for support? Help? A miracle? I had no idea, but all she got was a blank stare. "And you and Alex aren't out scavenging or pulling shifts."

Daryl nodded, stepping forward. "We'll go."

Denise opened her mouth, but a rebuttal got stuck in her throat. She coughed to clear it before offering up a pathetic. "I...wanted to check. I just wanted to help."

What she didn't understand was she already doing that. She was a doctor, _our doctor_ , our only form of medical intervention. She was more valuable than the drugs in the apothecary shop, but she didn't see that. Everyone assumed killing walkers was the only way to be useful.

"How much time ya spent out there?" Daryl asked even though he already knew the answer. We all did.

"None," she answered, her chin jutting out in annoyance.

"Forget it."

"I can ID the meds. I know how to use a machete now." That was a stretch. She could now hold a machete without cutting off her own hand. "I've seen roamers up close. I'm ready."

Daryl's eyes slid to me, "Ya good with this?"

"Not even a little."

"I'll go alone if I have to."

"You'll die alone," Daryl quickly replied.

"I'm asking you both to make sure I don't."

Well...no pressure or anything. I grabbed Daryl's coat sleeve, dragging him a few feet away so we could argue in private.

"Ain't no way in hell Red. She ain't ready for _shit_."

"I don't disagree, but you saw the look on her face."

"Her face was stuck on stupid just like her idea."

"She'll try to go on her own. We can't let that happen."

He grumbled under his breath, biting his thumbnail. "We could put some people on her to stop her from leavin'. In a few days she'll forget all 'bout it."

"We're not her babysitters or her keepers." Not to mention we didn't have the manpower for that. We were barely able to cover all the guard shifts now. "Babe, I don't like this anymore than you, but we're her best shot of making it back alive."

"Yeah, a'right," he conceded, turning to Denise. "Get yur shit, and meet us at the truck."

I wasn't sure she had shit to get, but OK, sure.

Daryl and I went back to our room, gathering our weapons and supplies. Really only Katniss was getting ready. My shit stayed packed and ready to go.

Instead I sat on our bed, knee bouncing up-and-down while I waited. I was more nervous than a turkey on Thanksgiving. No, that wasn't right. I was more nervous than a _prize turkey at a turkey slaughter house_. Wait, no, that sounded wrong too.

"Got steam comin' outta yur ears."

I glanced at my husband, "I'm more nervous than an Oscar Meyer turkey about to get fried?"

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

"More nervous than a prize turkey in November," he corrected.

"Damn it."

"Is it the doc? I know she ain't ready, but like ya said between the two of us..."

He stopped talking when I stood, walking over to him. Yes, I was somewhat apprehensive about bringing Tara's significant other outside the community, but that wasn't what was making it difficult to breathe. Before I could talk myself out of it I dug into my pocket, retrieving the cloth package Merle gave me earlier.

I had this all planned out in my head. I'd say something meaningful yet funny just like in the movies, helping ease some of the tension I knew I shouldn't feel. After all, this was Legolas. There was no reason for me to feel nervous, but I did. Because of that instead of being graceful and poised I was clumsy and awkward. I shoved the gift at him, practically knocking him over when my hand collided with his wide chest. I felt sweat trickle down the side of my head, and unzipped my jacket, fanning myself with my shirt.

Was it hot in here?

"Red?"

"Just open it."

He frowned, but complied, unwrapping the cloth so slowly I almost groaned. When he finished, _finally_ , the ring sat perfectly perched in the center of his palm. He didn't say anything, didn't move, he simply stared at it.

I swallowed nervously, wringing my hands in front of me. This was a bad idea. If he wanted a wedding band he would have made one for himself when he made mine.

It took me months to find one that was almost identical to the one I wore on my left land, and another three to find copper wire.

I tried for a solid two-weeks to replicate his intricate work with the delicate metal only to realize I had neither the skill nor the patience. Thankfully my brother-in-law did.

It took him almost a month to secretly complete the ring. The wedding band my husband now held in his hand was a carbon copy of my own.

"You don't have to wear it," I blurted out, desperate to fill the silence. His eyes snapped to my face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that only made me sweat more. "It's the thought that counts, right? Just forget about it. Put it in the nightstand, throw it away..."

I turned, fumbling with the door in my haste to get out of the room, but didn't make it a single step. One second I was standing, and the next I was pinned against the wall with his mouth covering mine.

I moaned, falling into the kiss, falling into him. The kiss was sinfully decadent. His hands dipped under my shirt, running up my fevered skin while my hands roamed his body greedily in return. His body was somehow hard and soft all at the same time. His lips were hard and demanding, but his touch was feather light.

He kissed me until the world faded to only him, any thoughts other than his touch evaporating like the morning dew. I whimpered when he pulled away, my eyes fluttering open. His body kept me firmly secured against the wall, his thigh between my legs doing funny things to my insides.

"Ya made this?" He held up the ring, eyes searching my face. Words were impossible so I nodded. His large hand cupped the side of my face tenderly. "I ain't got no words."

"It's nothing."

"It ain't nothing." His eyes were fierce, and my argument died on my lips. "It's everythin'. _Yur everythin'_."

He kissed me again, this time slow and gentle. When he pulled away I let him go, silently watching as he held the impossibly small ring in his large hand. I felt my heart thumping wildly as he slid it on his left hand. I was so relieved it fit I almost passed out from pure joy. He grinned, eyes finding mine. When he held his left hand up in a fist I threw my head back laughing. I bumped mine against his, my heart soaring when I heard the _clink_ of our wedding bands.

"Come on Red."

Twenty minutes later the euphoric feeling I'd felt in our tiny room was a distant memory. Denise sat wedged between Daryl and me as we left Alexandria. I winced when he shifted, the gears grinding so hard it was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. The car shuttered, groaning and grinding as he struggled to drive it properly. I turned slowly to my left, eyes briefly meeting Denise before settling on the man beside her.

Oh my god I'd finally found it...the one thing Daryl Dixon _couldn't do_.

The car jumped forward as he shifted abruptly from fourth to second. I felt bile swimming in my stomach as car sickness reared its ugly head.

"It...the..." Denise trailed off, too intimidated by the redneck to offer pointers on his shitty driving.

"What?" He looked between us, but I focused my attention on rolling down the window and sticking my head out. Maybe fresh air would help.

"Forget it," Denise mumbled, head down.

Daryl shifted from fourth back to second, and I was positive the engine was going to explode.

"For fuck's sake," I groaned, wishing I'd skipped breakfast.

"Heard that."

"You were meant to."

"Quit hangin' out the window. Yur skinny ass is liable to fall out."

I waved him off, "It's this or chunks on the windshield."

"I think maybe you're disengaging it too soon," Denise interrupted, pointing at the stick shift. Daryl glared at her, but she forged on, in too deep to stop now. "I've been driving stick since I was 15, usually beat-up trucks like this. I mean, before...you know, before I left home."

The sound of the gears grinding made a chill run down my spine. From my spot halfway out of the truck it was easy to spot the downed tree in the middle of the road.

"Legolas."

"Yep."

He slowed to a stop, telling Denise to stay in the car. I stepped out, rifle in my hand while Daryl scanned the area holding a shotgun. This tree wasn't here a few days ago which begged the question, was this an ambush? There was a walker stuck under the tree, growling and snarling, but no one and nothing else to suggest it was a trap. After further inspection it was obvious this happened naturally.

"Tree's rotten," I commented making Daryl hum in agreement.

I drew a single knife, killing the walker. I rifled through his pack then went to retrieve Denise. We weren't going to be able to move this tree so we'd have to travel on foot from here.

She startled when I opened the door, and I barely repressed a sigh. "Let's go doc."

"What'd you find?"

"Booze." I held up the bag, offering it to her.

"No thanks."

I agreed. Some people's priorities were so fucked up it was a miracle they'd made it this far. I put the bottle in my pack for no other reason than we could use it as a disinfectant if things got really dire.

"Booze were kind of my parents thing," Denise muttered while fiddling with her machete. "That's why it's not mine."

"Touché."

We all had our demons. Far be it for me to judge hers.

Denise glanced at her map then the tracks to our left. I knew what she was thinking before she said it. I also knew how it'd go down. Not well.

"That truck ain't gonna make it past this tree. Come on, let's walk."

"Hold up." She pointed to the tracks, and I suppressed a shutter of unease. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks."

"No," Daryl and I said at the same time. She frowned, looking between us.

Daryl stared her down, daring her to disagree with him. "No tracks. We'll take the road."

He stomped off, not looking to see if she was following. I didn't blame him. The last time we followed tracks they let us to Terminus. Not exactly the kind of memories we were looking to repeat.

"That's twice as far," she mumbled to herself.

I followed my husband. She could do the same or try her luck alone on the tracks. Sometimes the shortest, easiest route wasn't the most desirable.

I heard her behind us as we trudged through the woods. We kept the road in sight, but took care to stay concealed so we weren't sitting ducks if we happened across the unneighborly type. The walk to the small town took just under an hour. When we passed over the train tracks just outside town I could practically hear Denise's indignation.

"You're holding it wrong." She glanced at me with a frown. I gestured to the machete in her hand. "Like this."

She nodded, flipping the weapon around. "Thanks." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Who taught you?"

My eyes flicked down to her, "Huh?"

"To fight, who taught you?" It was a simple question, but the undercurrent of emotion it elicited made it difficult to breathe. "I'm sorry. Never mind."

"Life."

My struggle for survival started on the day of my birth. The only difference between then and now was the state of the word. I'd always lived wondering if I'd make it to tomorrow, and always worried about the enemy at the gate. The bad guys may have changed over the years, but fighting was second nature to me. It was in my blood.

The shopping center that housed the apothecary looked creepy as fuck. Thankfully, aside from looking like a serial killers clubhouse it appeared to be empty. Daryl pounded on the door just in case. Poor Denise couldn't drag her eyes away from the decomposing bodies on the sidewalk, or the bloody handprints along the wall which only added to the creepy factor. When no walkers crashed against the door a few minutes later Daryl leaned his shotgun against the wall.

"A'right, me and her are gonna do this. Yur gonna stay back, got it?"

Denise nodded as I drew two knives, watching Daryl pry the door open with a crowbar. Once the doors were open we scanned the interior cautiously. I didn't see any walkers, but I sure smelled them. Something had died in here, a really long time ago. Denise gagged, putting a hand over her mouth.

"We gonna find out what ya had for breakfast?" he taunted, not waiting for a response as he walked away.

"Take a few deep breaths," I instructed, "It'll pass."

She inhaled deep, face a little green around the edges. "I don't think that's going to help."

"It's that or hold your breath. Your choice."

She took another second to compose herself, giving me a slight nod. I clicked on a flashlight, examining the glass cases lining the walls.

"I had oatmeal. Just so you know," she announced now that she could breathe without hurling.

The place didn't look like much. There were worthless knickknacks, jewelry, and cheap souvenirs lining the shelves, but in the back corner was a sign covered in corrosion that read Pharmacy.

"Over here," I called out.

Daryl pulled out the crowbar, trying to jimmy the door open.

"Do you want me to hold your bags?" We both stopped, looking over our shoulders. Denise stood there awkwardly, and we both turned our attention back to the door. "Yeah."

The metal window fought Daryl, and he cursed, trying to work the crowbar under it.

"Why don't you let me pick it?"

He grunted, straining. "I got it." It didn't sound like he had it. "Just gimme a sec."

I huffed, cocking a hand on my hip. I could have this thing open in a few seconds _without_ all the racket, but sure, go ahead, beat your head against a wall.

"You're a man. I hear you roar," I mumbled, ignoring his scathing glare.

With one final push the lock broke, finally.

He turned, a smug look on his face. "Told ya."

I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up, and he went back to scowling instantly. He pushed the heavy window up revealing a stocked pharmacy. Wow, I had no idea what was in here, but there had to be something good.

"If you set them on the counter I can tell you which ones," she offered as we hopped over the counter.

"Nah, we're gonna take 'em all."

"Are you sure? Because..." I opened my backpack, using my arm to swipe 20 bottles off the shelf directly into my bag. "Alrighty then."

Something bumped against the wall a few feet away, and I froze. A low moan echoed in the store drawing us to the front counter. The weak clawing on the other side of the door was barely audible, but scared the doc shitless nonetheless.

"It's just one." Probably.

Another round of banging made her swallow hard.

"Sounds like it's stuck," Daryl said absently, already back to retrieving medicine.

I was so distracted I didn't notice Denise had wandered off until she came stumbling back, knocking over a glass vase in the process. She looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Denise?"

She shook her head frantically, offering an unbelievable, "I'm fine."

Then she was gone, walking out the front door. I glanced at Daryl who nodded his chin in her direction. I jumped over the counter, following her out. She was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, close to tears. I squatted down next to her, and noticed the key chain she was clutching in her hand. It had the name Dennis on it. She tore her eyes away from the bodies, and as soon as she saw the keychain she could no longer hold back the tears.

"It's OK to be freaked out by this," I said, looking around. There was a big part of me that _wished_ I still got freaked out.

"I hate being weak, fragile."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She turned, squeezing the key chain tight as she said, "You're not fragile."

"Not true." She frowned, confused. "I'm not fragile like a flower. I'm fragile like a bomb."

Everyone had their breaking points, and I was no different. The only difference between me and the average survivor was the destruction I was likely to cause when I eventually reached mine.

She laughed, and I winked at her, standing just as Daryl walked outside. He looked between us, uncomfortable in the presence of a crying woman. Daryl didn't do crying. He _really_ didn't do women crying.

Denise angled her face away, trying to collect herself. Meanwhile my husband looked slightly panicked. I pointed at Denise, and he shook his head no. I narrowed my eyes, pointing emphatically at the crying doctor.

Would it kill the guy to give her an ata-boy?

"Hey, uh..." She finally looked at him. "Ya did real good...ya know...findin' this place."

Apparently it would kill him.

The approval was enough for the doctor who got to her feet with a tiny sniffle. She had guts coming out here. She might not be ready, but she came anyway and she was holding her own. I respected that. I respected her.

The walk out of town was no less depressing then the walk in. Dead bodies, abandoned cars, looted stores, and decrepit houses as far as the eye could see. It was a not so gentle reminder of what the world was now, depressing.

"So, was he older or younger?" Daryl asked.

I pretended I wasn't listening, scanning for danger. It was sweet he was trying to make small talk with her. Small talk was another thing he didn't do, not well anyway, so the fact he was trying gave me all the feels.

"Older. By six minutes." I stopped abruptly, facing her. She was a twin, a fraternal twin to be precise. "What?"

Daryl's eyes softened around the edges at my shock. He was the only person alive who knew I was a fraternal twin.

"Nothing," I said with a dismissive head shake.

"My parents came up with the Denise/Dennis thing on one of their benders. Hilarious, right?" It seemed our little group wasn't as different as we liked to believe. "Nothing scared him. He was brave. He was angry too. Kind of a dangerous combination."

Daryl and I both knew how explosive that combo could be because Merle had been a walking manifestation of it a year ago. When I'd met my brother-in-law he had one foot in the grave, and was in no rush to stop the other from following suit. I didn't have to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't changed because I already knew. He'd be long dead.

"Sounds like we had the same brother," Daryl commented.

"Had?"

"Yeah, Merle used to be like that. Still is in some ways, but not like b'fore."

Merle Dixon was angrier than social norms deemed acceptable, scarier than this freaky town, and braver than everyone I knew put together. A volatile combination when you factored drugs and alcohol into the mix. Now that he was clean and sober he was a different man, a better man.

I crossed the train tracks, but was forced to stop when Daryl veered off to the right. "Katniss, what are you doing?"

"This way's faster, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer, his long strides quickly carrying him down the tracks. This was his way of showing solidarity with Denise. A redneck olive branch if you will.

She blushed, ducking her head and following my husband with a small smile on her face. I stood there, biting my lip. I wasn't superstitious by any stretch of the imagination, but every set of tracks I'd ever followed led me to cannibals.

OK, so I'd only ever followed one set of tracks once, but wasn't one encounter with cannibals enough to justify my aversion?

"Get yur ass movin' Red."

"Goddmanit, I swear, if someone tries to eat me they'll be hell to pay."

The one good thing about following the railroad tracks back to the truck was there wasn't much to look at but trees. That was, until we came upon a few abandoned cars next to a crossing. It was difficult not to imagine how the people lying dead beside their vehicles met their end, not that it was hard to guess. Daryl slid his hand in mine, silently urging my eyes away from the scene.

"There's a cooler in there!" Daryl and I spun around. "Might be something we can use inside!"

There also might be a whole lot of trouble. I'd rather kick a bees nest, and I was deathly allergic to bees. Just ask Katniss.

"Nah, it ain't worth the trouble. Come on!"

He kept walking, but I stayed put, knowing in my gut she wouldn't listen. She studied the walker pounding on the window for a beat before going to the other side of the car. When she tentatively pulled a knife from her waist I started running.

"Denise!"

I drew a knife, watching in horror as the walker lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. The pair were partially obscured by the open door making it impossible to get a good angle.

"No, don't!" she screamed when she saw me.

Daryl skidded to a stop next to me just as she was able to throw the walker off her with a grunt. We glanced at each other skeptically, watching the doctor build up the courage to kill her first walker. When she sunk the long knife in its brain she exhaled harshly. She climbed to her feet, panting heavily. I could practically feel Daryl's need to chastise her rolling off him in waves. Instead, he stayed quiet while she walked a few feet away, bent forward, and hurled her guts out.

"Oh god," I muttered, stepping back. I didn't do vomit the way Daryl didn't do crying.

"Man, I threw up on my glasses."

I curled my hand into a fist at my side, trying really hard not to lose my shit on her. "Kind of the least of your issues at the moment doc."

She laughed, but stopped when neither of us joined in. She pressed her lips together, plucking her puke splattered glasses off the ground, and putting them in her bag.

"What in the fuck?" Daryl whispered, gesturing to her. I shrugged. How the hell should I know? Just because she was a chic didn't mean I knew what was happening. "I swear..."

He was so outraged he couldn't properly cuss which was saying something. Meanwhile, Denise knelt by a cooler, hesitating a beat before opening the lid. I swear there better be something really fucking good in there, like a chocolate covered dick, cause this was ridiculous.

"Hot damn."

We walked over, inspecting her haul. It was soda.

"So not a chocolate covered dick?" Daryl froze, head turning slowly. "What?"

"I ain't sure who I should be more worried 'bout."

Well, I was going with Denise. My priorities were straight, dicks then death.

What little restraint my husband possessed snapped. It was all too much, Denise, this run, chocolate covered dicks, he was D-U-N.

"What the hell was that?!" he barked. "Ya could've died right there! Ya know that!?"

"Yeah, I do." It was the first time today she didn't sound scared shitless.

"Are ya hearin' me?"

I winced, glancing behind us, crossing my fingers we weren't drawing unwanted attention due to the screaming.

"Who gives a shit!" I'd never heard Denise talk like that. Hell, I'd never heard _anyone_ talk to Daryl like that. Well, anyone who didn't share his last name. "Both of you could have died killing those Saviors, but you didn't! You want to live, you take chances! That's how it works. That's what I did."

"For a couple of damn sodas?" He was unable to grasp her motivations.

"Nope, just this one."

She sauntered by with the Orange Crush on display like it somehow made her action less idiotic.

"She don't get it."

I hummed in agreement, "No, she doesn't."

Truthfully neither did I, and maybe that was the problem. I jogged to the tracks, catching up with her.

"This isn't a game," I said, grabbing her sleeve and turning her around. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, but that's not how we do things out here."

"Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me?" No, I didn't have a damn clue. "See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery and the..." Her eyes swung to Daryl, and she swallowed hard. "I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe." She turned to me, and I stood there, dumbfounded. "And I wanted you here because you're the most capable person I've ever met which gives me hope that maybe I can be like that too someday." Her voice broke, eyes going distant. "I could've gone with Tara. I could've told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. _That's_ what's stupid. Not coming out here, not facing my shit. I've seen how everyone's been acting since The Saviors, and it makes me sick that no one's even trying. Jesus, we have so much to live for, but we're all sitting around waiting for someone to waltz in and take it from us." She took a few deep breathes before continuing, finger pointed at us. "You guys are so in love, so damn happy, and it makes me believe in the future, in _my future_. We have to wake up, all of us, and face our..."

My body jolted when the arrow slammed into the back of her head. The tip of the arrow protruding through her eye was red with blood, and my eyes went wide with horror as a trail of bloody tears dripped down her face. Her body swayed, a few unintelligible words still falling from her lips even as her body crumpled. I lunged forward, catching her before she fell.

"No, no, no, no." I frantically searched for some way to undo this, to save her, even though I knew it was impossible. "Stay with me. Denise, do you hear me, stay with me!"

Her blood coated my hands and saturated my jeans too fast, much too fast. She was dead before I was able to lower her body to the ground, and I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming.

Suddenly men poured out of the woods, yelling at us to lay down our weapons. I didn't realize Daryl was standing over me until he stood to his full height, shotgun aimed at our enemy. My chest heaved as I shifted Denise's body out from under mine so I could stand, tucking my rifle into my shoulder, but there were too many for us to handle.

A man with a horribly scarred face stepped forward, dragging Billy Ray Cyrus with him, and I groaned. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse. He forced the fake scientist to his knees, and I lowered my weapon. My husband's eyes never left the scarred man. It wasn't difficult to guess who he was because the asshole was holding his crossbow.

It was the man from the burned forest, the one he'd spared.

My eyes drifted to the arrow that killed the doctor. It didn't take a psychologist to know where this road was leading for the man next to me.

"Well, hell." The two men squared off, and I took the time to survey our options which boiled down to jack and shit. "You got something to say to me."

"Daryl," I whispered, trying to get his focus off the man he clearly wanted to kill. We couldn't be rash, not now, not with three lives on the line.

The scarred man's eyes drifted to me, and I stiffened, refusing to blink. "Don't believe we've been introduced."

My husband took a large step forward, drawing the attention of every gun in this man's service. "Get yur fuckin' eyes off her."

"You gonna make me?" My husband refused to take the bait, stewing in barely contained rage at my side. "Clear the air? Step up on that high horse?" We stayed still and silent. "No, you don't talk much."

Two men moved to frisk us, taking our packs and weapons. When one got particularly handsy with my boobs I simply smiled. He would be the first one I killed. Well, maybe the second. The one holding my husband's crossbow would be the first to go.

"Still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but..." He held up the weapon, taunting the redneck who was powerless to do a damn thing at the moment.

"I should've done it."

"Oh, what's that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said?"

Daryl didn't hesitate, repeating, "I should've killed ya."

"Yeah, you probably should have. So, here we are, kind of begs the question right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said, kicks like a bitch. It's nothing personal."

It sure felt personal. One of our own was dead with an arrow in her fucking eyes, and the rest of us were being held hostage at gun point.

"Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"Get to the point Two-Face," I barked, drawing his attention away from my husband. I wasn't a fan of the way he was looking at him. "Careful."

"I'm sorry darling, I didn't catch your name."

"Fuck off."

He laughed, looking at my redneck. "Got your hands full with this one, huh?" He simply growled in response. "I'm D, or Dwight. You can call me either." Not likely, but OK. "So, you gonna tell me your name beautiful, or do I have to guess?"

"How about this, you and your band of merry men walk away right now, and I promise to kill you quickly."

Billy Ray winced, surely expecting a bullet to the back of the head at my proposal. Instead, Two-Face only grinned, secure in their advantage.

"As appealing as that sounds we're gonna have to pass." The men surrounding us laughed. "What I need is for you and Daryl to let us into your little complex, and then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want, or we blow Eugene's brains out." He pointed the weapon at me. "And then yours." He aimed the weapon at Daryl. "And then his." He paused merely for dramatic effect. "I hope it doesn't come to that, _really_. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across. So what's it gonna be? You tell me."

"You wanna kill someone, you start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels." All eyes shifted to the rusted barrels stacked a few yards away. "He's a first-class a-hole, and he deserves it so much more than us three. Go check it out."

I had no idea what his plan was, but I knew we needed to be ready. It was most likely Ariel hiding behind those barrels, and he was a full tilt diva so I knew he'd make an entrance.

Two-Face pulled a handgun from his waist. "Go check it out."

I shifted closer to Daryl, and he looked at me out of the corner of my eye. I nudged his foot with my boot, knowing he'd understand.

Like a cobra striking Billy Ray turned, biting Two-Face right in the junk. Immediately I reached down to my right boot, drawing a knife while Daryl grabbed the one hidden in my left. Shots rang out from the woods, killing two men as I flung the knife at the closest target. The man's eyes got huge, hands probing the knife sticking out of his throat. A heartbeat later he was on his back, and I was yanking the M16 out of his hands.

I shot two men directly to my right, yelping when a bullet grazed my upper arm. Daryl grabbed me roughly, hauling me behind a car just before a hail of bullets busted the windows.

"Red?"

"I'm good." It was a flesh wound at best, and we had bigger problems. "Go to that end, and stick your head out."

It was a testament to our trust and our fucked up lives that he didn't balk at the request.

"Don't miss," he replied, already moving into position.

 _Please_ , I never missed.

A few seconds later he did as instructed, and predictably two men left the safety of their hiding spot in an attempt to kill him. I put a bullet in their heads before they ever got the chance. There was a low moan behind me that was drawing steadily closer. The gunfire was drawing walkers. We had to get out of here.

Billy Ray finally stopped gnawing on Two-Face's twig and berries, both men flattening themselves against the tracks to avoid the spray of bullets crisscrossing over their heads. I fired three rounds, trying to keep the walkers away from Billy Ray.

"Fallback!" Two-Face screamed, "Fallback!"

We kept firing, trying to take out as many as we could before they retreated. When Two-Face leapt to his feet, running for the woods Daryl didn't miss a beat, sliding across the hood of the car in chase. He didn't break stride as he picked up his beloved crossbow, eyes locked on the man who'd taken it.

"Daryl!" I yelled, rounding the vehicle, and he halted.

I raced to Billy Ray who'd been shot in the side, applying pressure to the wound. "You're gonna be fine. Hang in there."

He moaned in pain when I pushed on the gunshot. I cursed as I tried to get my jacket off while still applying pressure. Ariel knelt on his other side, eyes scanning him.

"How is he?"

"It's just a graze, but it's deep. We need to get the bleeding under control. Put your hand here and press as hard as you can."

Ariel did as instructed so I could finally get my jacket off. I pulled my long-sleeved Henley over my head, using my knife to rip it into long, thin strips I could use as a bandage. I tugged and pulled, Ariel and Daryl lifting the wounded man when needed so I could secure the dressing. Once it was in place I glanced at his face, offering him a silent apology.

"Just do it," Billy Ray ground out painfully.

I pulled the knot as hard as I could, trying to stem the loss of blood. He cried out, and I blinked back tears.

"Grab his legs," Ariel ordered, "Lift on three."

The three of us struggled to handle his dead weight. Carrying him meant we couldn't retrieve Denise's body, but it was her or him. When we walked by the doc my shaking hands had nothing to do with the man I was carrying.

The walk to the truck felt like it took forever. By the time we made it we were all sweating and panting. We loaded him into the bed as gently as we could, and I climbed in with him. There was little I could do except hold his hand, whisper reassurance, and make sure the bandage stayed in place. Thankfully the trip to Alexandria was short, but it was another reminder of what we'd lost when we moved him into what was formerly Denise's hospital.

News of our arrival spread fast, and our loss even faster. I stepped out of the hospital room before Ariel returned, striding to the front gate in a haze of grief and determination. I climbed in the first vehicle I saw, waiting impatiently for the gate guard to let me out. I left the car in the same spot next to the same tree, continuing down the tracks on foot.

The sun was setting, and the temperatures were steadily dropping. I was clad only in my tank top and jeans, but I didn't feel the chilly pre-dusk air. My hands and what was left of my clothes were still covered in wet, sticky blood I was pointedly ignoring. I kept my gaze focused straight ahead, refusing to think about how the blood felt tacky like glue right before it dried. I literally had the blood of my friends on my hands, again.

I stopped a few feet from her body, shaking from the cold and shock. I knelt next to her, the rocks digging into my knees painfully. As carefully and gently as I could I pulled the arrow out of her head, gut twisting with each horrid sound it made as I did. By the time I was done I was sobbing, big, fat, ugly tears streaming down my dirty face. I bowed my head, bloody arrow gripped so tight in my hand it hurt.

"I'm sorry," I cried, hand clutching her cold one.

"Red."

I wasn't surprised he was here. He wouldn't leave her, not out here, alone. With steps so light they were hard to hear he came to stop on the other side of the body, silently waiting. He wouldn't rush me. He'd wait for as long as it took.

I angrily swiped at the tears, upset I was upset which was a conundrum. This was the world, people died, shit happened, and crying wouldn't change that.

When my eyes finally landed on my husband I felt a ball of dread expand in the pit of my stomach. Whatever I was feeling held nothing on him. Two-Face was alive only because he'd allowed it, and now Denise was dead. He felt responsible and he looked absolutely crushed.

"Daryl, I..."

"Come on, let's do this."

He moved to her shoulders, slinging his crossbow on his back. Reluctantly I went to her feet, bending down and lifting her up. There was no point in trying to force him to talk. He wasn't ready, and you couldn't force a Dixon to do a damn thing they didn't want to.

We silently carried her back to my car, carefully placing her in the backseat. I folded her hands over her chest. When I was done he squeezed my hand gently before making his way to the bike. I followed him back to Alexandria, and the two of us carried her to the cemetery. Carol was waiting when we got there, two shovels in her hand, and a somber look on her face. I climbed out of the car, ready to get to work, but Daryl pulled me aside.

"Go home and clean up. I'll be back later."

I frowned, "I'm fine. I can help." I _wanted_ to help.

He glanced over his shoulder at Carol who was pretending she couldn't hear us. "I need a minute."

A minute to mourn, a minute to talk to his troubled friend, a minute to come to grips with our new reality.

I nodded shakily, turning to leave, but he stopped me, pulling me against his hard body. He cradled the back of my head, the other rubbing my back.

"Ain't yur fault Red."

"It isn't yours either."

He released me, shrugging off his vest and placing it on my shoulders, both of us pretending we believed the other.

* * *

 **And just like that our timeout is over. Death is a part of life, especially on TWD, but Denise's was particularly brutal, for more reasons than one.**

 **Before we get to the "heavy hitting" stuff (sorry, I couldn't resist)...what did you think of Alex making Daryl a wedding band? I hope it was a small break in a very intense, tough chapter.**

 **Ready or not...here they come.**


	71. The End of Everything

**The End of Everything**

In my life I'd worn countless masks, each one serving a particular purpose. There were masks that protected me from abuse inflicted by the person who should have loved me, but couldn't. Masks that hid the grief of losing those I loved despite my best efforts to prevent it. Masks that helped me obscure the pain caused by the depravity I'd unleashed in the name of my country.

Today was no different.

It was a different mask for an entirely different challenge.

To say Daryl had been distant when he finally came home last night would be an understatement, but I let him have his space because a relationship without trust was like a cell phone with no service, all you could do was play games. Besides, I didn't need to hound him to know what was eating away at him. He felt responsible for Denise. I knew because I felt the same. The only difference between our respective guilt was the complexity added by him sparing the man who'd taken hers.

The following morning brought with it more of the same. We went through the motions which entailed me pretending I didn't notice the restlessness brewing in my husband, and him pretending he wasn't about to take matters in his own hands without me. I couldn't stop him, not for any reasonable amount of time. Just like the determined doctor who'd died yesterday, if he was going to do this there wasn't a damn thing I could do stop him.

I'd always had a natural talent for reading people though I didn't particularly need it in this situation. Daryl's intentions were being broadcast loud and clear like a message on the now defunct emergency broadcast system. Even Billy Ray Cyrus, the most socially inept person alive, would be able to spot his subterfuge like a stain on a white shirt.

Nevertheless, I waited for him to broach the subject, to let me help, but I was destined for disappointment. When he brushed a half-hearted kiss against my cheek, mumbling a lie about working on his bike for the rest of the day I was barely able reel in my desire to strangle him.

Thankfully this wasn't my first rodeo.

My mask never faltered as I smiled and nodded where appropriate, not letting on I saw through his bullshit all the while plotting behind his back. He may not _want_ my help, but he was getting it. He just didn't know it yet. I'd deal with his treachery _after_ I made sure he didn't do something stupid, like end up dead.

It occurred to me in the last moments before he left that he was so distracted by grief and revenge he didn't even realize I'd snuffed out his intent. He was the one who'd first realized I came fully equipped with an internal lie detector, not to mention an accident avoidance system. It was further proof he wasn't thinking, not clearly, and that scared the shit out me. Even in the direst of scenarios he was level-headed and calm, always thinking and maneuvering to ensure the most favorable outcome, but not today. Today he was rash, reckless, and fueled by pure hate.

The moment he walked out of the room I sprang into action, collecting weapons, loading up a pack, and devising a plan that didn't involve choking the life from man I loved. My grandmother was right; you didn't have to like someone to love them.

The second Merle saw me he knew something was wrong. He left Francine at the kitchen island, moving until he was standing front of me, effectively cutting off my escape until I explained the arsenal on my body and determination on my face.

"He's going after Two-Face," I said without prodding. I didn't have time to argue, and kicking his ass would take even longer. Better to be frank, and move this show along. "I'm going after him."

"I'll get my stuff."

I grabbed his arm, shaking my head. "You have to stay here."

"The hell I do."

"Listen to me, we're in the end game now. The Savior's know where we are, and they're coming. One way or the other this is going to blow up. We need to get ready."

"All the more reason for me to be with ya."

"We can't afford to scatter our defenses more than we already have." Daryl running off half-cocked was bad enough. We needed every able body person preparing Alexandria for the fight of our lives. "I'll find him, and I'll bring him back."

"I ain't lettin' ya go off by yurself," he growled.

Dixon's were famous, or notorious, for their stubbornness. My brother-in-law had that look on his face, the one that said he was digging in and wouldn't be swayed come hell or high water, but he wasn't coming. I had enough to worry about without adding him to the mix. So I took a deep breath, and prepared to hit below the belt.

"You promised."

He froze, eyes bulging in disbelief that I'd played _that_ _card_.

"No fuckin' way Firecracker. Ya can't..."

"This is it," I whispered, "That awful feeling I can't seem to shake...whatever's coming, it's happening _now_."

His nostrils flared, and he couldn't stop his eyes from straying to Francine. His girlfriend was trying to project an air of steadfastness, but she was too pale to pull it off. She was scared, and I didn't blame her. I knew the moment we made the deal with Hilltop that this day would come, but something felt different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but somehow I knew with gut-wrenching certainty we wouldn't come away from this fight unscathed. We were going to pay a price, and the currency was blood.

"I..." he stuttered, and I closed the distance between us, hugging him.

"I won't let anything happen to him." I pulled back, looking directly in his blue eyes. "I promise."

He nodded, pressing his lips together to stop them from shaking. "Don't let nothin' happen to yurself lil' sister."

I grinned, injecting confidence into my voice I didn't feel. "Don't worry about me. I'm like a cockroach. You can't get rid of me."

He mumbled something I couldn't make out, shaking his head before wrapping his large arms around me. I tried to pretend like this didn't feel like goodbye, but it did and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. I kept my head high and spine straight as I quickly said goodbye to Francine, leaving the house before either noticed my shaking hands.

By the time I made it to the front gate Glenn, Ariel, Deadpool, and Apocalypse Barbie were in full freak out mode.

"How long ago did he leave?" All four stopped arguing, but no one answered. I didn't have time for this. My husband was out there, alone, ready to fall on his proverbial sword. Someone needed to start talking or I was going to start cracking skulls. " _How long_?"

"Ten minutes, tops," Apocalypse Barbie finally answered.

Ten minutes wasn't a long time for a normal person, but Daryl wasn't a normal person. He was a redneck, a redneck with a 10-minute head start in his natural habitat, the woods. It would be like trying to find a virgin at a whorehouse. So basically, I was fucked, pun intended.

I ran for the van, Glenn, Deapool, and Apocalypse Barbie following in my wake.

"We should keep numbers here," Glenn said as we all piled in the vehicle.

I didn't care who went and who stayed. I didn't disagree with him that it was smart to keep people at Alexandria, but my sole focus was tracking down my husband. They could come with or stay here, but they better decide fast.

"I'm coming."

Apocalypse Barbie's tone left no room for argument despite the enormous red-head standing next to the van looking like he wanted to start one. I knew she was only volunteering to put distance between herself and her former flame, and I didn't blame her. The way Sasha and he made googly eyes at each other all day was enough to make me want to puke.

"Where do we go?"

"The railroad tracks," I murmured, biting my lip. My best guess was he'd head back to the last place we saw Two-Face, and try to track him from there.

"This is a bad idea," Deadpool stated, more to herself than anyone else.

I couldn't disagree. On a scale of one to ten, ten being colossally stupid, this was a twenty.

"Why do you look like you're going to war?"

I glanced at Apocalypse Barbie then at my weapons, all 200 of them. When I didn't reply she shifted in her seat, muttering quietly to herself while discreetly checking her own stockpile.

Less than 20-minutes later Glenn stopped the van at the train tracks. My PPQ was in my hand as I exited the vehicle, following the tracks like I was walking the green mile. There was a lone walker on the opposite side devouring a dead Savior, but I hardly noticed her growling, crunching, and slurping. My eyes were locked on Denise's blood. The deep red had stained the wood on the tracks, a permanent reminder of what happened here.

I forced my eyes away from the blood, walking the edge of the woods. I could barely make out the light imprint in the soil, squatting down and tracing the outline with the tip of my finger. It was Daryl. I'd know this footprint anywhere.

Deadpool gathered a handful of branches, pulling them back to reveal his poorly concealed bike. I stood with a dejected sigh, scanning the horizon. It sucked being right sometimes.

"Which way did Dwight run?" Glenn asked.

With a heavy sigh I pointed in the direction of The Saviors retreat, following the trail both they and my husband left behind. I tried to channel every ounce of tracking knowledge I'd learned over the years, and fine-tuned in the past 2-years under his tutelage. He was an excellent teacher, and I was a good student. I would need every ounce of it now to save his life.

"We should let him do this," Apocalypse Barbie announced to the group.

I paid her no mind. I didn't care if she came. I didn't care if _any_ of them came. I was going, and no one here would stop me. Not with words, and not with actions.

"But he doesn't know what he's doing," Glenn countered. I wasn't sure about that. Daryl may be driven by rage and guilt, but he wasn't off his rocker. He knew what he was doing. "I know he feels responsible for Denise, but getting himself killed doesn't change that."

Daryl and Glenn had formed a friendship over the years. If the stories were to be believed that development was a genuine miracle. Back in the beginning the two weren't even cordial much less BFFs which wasn't a huge surprise. Daryl was about as anti-social as they came, but for all their differences they were now brothers. That meant Glenn would risk his life to find him, to bring him back before the unthinkable happened. The thought made my throat constrict making it difficult to breathe.

 _"We're in the end game now."_

My words to Merle echoed in my head on an endless loop, moves and counter moves cycling through my subconscious. It was impossible to plan with so many unknowns in play. How could I possibly hope to control the outcome when I couldn't even see all the pieces? Why did it feel like every move we made was exactly the move The Saviors wanted?

"This way," I announced, changing directions.

It was hard work tracking someone who didn't want to be found. I examined every blade of grass, disturbed vegetation, and split tree branch with an expert eye, trying to judge its significance, the likelihood it was Daryl versus a walker or someone else entirely. If I was right, and we were on his trail, we were gaining on him. He was moving with slow determination; his steps uncharacteristically close together despite his long stride. Sometimes they even doubled back like he was making sure he followed the correct path.

I pushed the pace, refusing to answer the endless query of questions from the group. Deadpool finally told them to shut up, and no one had spoken a word since.

It'd rained recently making the ground soft and muddy. I knelt down, examining the clear footprints with a scowl before standing and breaking into a jog. Those were his size 13 boot prints outlined in the soft soil. He was close.

I kept us obscured in the forest while scanning an open clearing to our right. He emerged from the far side, staying low while creeping through the opening, eyes glued to the ground, oblivious to our presence. He didn't hear us. He certainly didn't see us, and it pissed me off. His single minded focus on finding Two-Face was going to get him killed, maybe by me.

I deliberately stepped on a twig, watching him. The moment the branch cracked his head snapped up, and he let an arrow fly. The projectile sailed by, embedding itself in a tree directly to my left. I shook my head, raising my eyebrow.

He didn't look particularly surprised to see me, stomping at us like a raging bull. He snatched the arrow out of my hand without a word causing me to smirk. I'd say one thing for him, he had balls. No brains to speak of, but huge balls. He didn't get to be mad, not now, not after the shit he pulled.

"Ya shouldn't have come," he barked, turning his back on us.

Not gonna lie, his dismissal and harsh tone stung, and all the comebacks rattling around in my brain held me speechless.

When I didn't immediately respond Deadpool stepped up to the plate. "You shouldn't have left."

He stopped, shoulders rising and falling with each frustrated breath. I knew a conflicted soul when I saw one, and right now, Daryl was as conflicted as I'd ever seen him. When he finally started talking there was a clear edge to his tone that warned of a man near his breaking point.

"When I split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in the woods, in that burned-out forest with them girls... _put a gun to my head!"_ I knew all of this, but still I winced. The mental image of him so close to death made goosebumps break out all over my body. "He tied me up. I even tried to help him."

I stayed my tongue, knowing it wouldn't do any good. He needed to hear this from someone who wasn't me. He needed his family to reassure him he wasn't responsible for her death. Thankfully Glenn was equal to the task.

"So you think it's your fault?" he asked, squaring off with the man he considered a brother.

"I know it is. I'm gonna do what I should've done b'fore."

"What, for her? She's gone man." Glenn's voice broke, a sign of his pain, and I let my head fall. "You're doing this for you."

Daryl swallowed hard, but refused to back down. "Man, I don't give a shit."

The lump of dread, guilt, and despair grew in my stomach. I said nothing because a part of me felt the same way. I wanted Two-Face dead. I wanted to kill them all for what they'd done.

"Are you going to do something?" Deadpool's question wasn't a question at all. It was an accusation. Unable to hold her thunderous glare I bowed my head, and she exhaled harshly. "Goddammit Alex."

"Daryl, we need to get back there, and figure this out from home. _Our home._ " Sometimes I envied Glenn. He was such an open book. He didn't fear people seeing him as weak for showing emotion. "We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's...it's gonna go wrong out here."

"We'll square it," Deadpool promised, "I will. I promise you. Just come back."

For a moment I thought they might sway him. He looked conflicted, considering their words versus his need for vengeance. It passed like a fleeting storm, his blank face slamming into place, any hint of weakness gone like it was never there.

"Man, I can't."

He walked away without another word, leaving us all speechless. The tension he left behind was palpable, and all eyes turned to me. I took a deep breath, and followed him, ignoring the stunned looks of disbelief.

"Alex..." Glenn sounded desperate.

Deadpool wasn't as gentle. She planted herself in my path, daring me to move her. "Don't. Don't do this."

"Don't make me choose," I replied softly. We both knew there wasn't a choice. With Daryl there never was.

"Please..."

"If it was Rick, what would you do?"

Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and she immediately moved to let me pass. Glenn kept his head down, but I felt his sadness as if it was my own. I offered them all an unbelievable smile, hoping this wouldn't be the last time we saw each other.

It didn't take me long to catch up, and I knew it was because he was waiting for me, even if he'd never admit it. For the first few minutes I trailed behind him in silence. He was too busy stewing in self-loathing, and I was too busy trying to figure out how to get us both out of this alive.

"Shouldn't have come Red," he finally said, pulling me back to the here and now.

"What would you have done?" He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "That's what I thought."

His lips pressed into a hard line, but he stayed quiet because he knew I was right. We were in this together, for better or worse, probably worse.

"They're close."

I nodded, looking at our surroundings. "Somethings not right."

He stopped, giving me his full attention. "What is it?"

"Why does it feel like we're exactly where they want us to be?" His shoulders stiffened, blue eyes calculating. At least I wasn't the only one feeling it. "We're hunting them, but somehow I feel like the prey."

The trail we were following was so obvious a blind man would have seen it. They may as well have drawn a map with a big X marking the spot. Add to the fact they made a point to obscure their numbers by traveling in a line, and my unease was reaching epic proportions. It felt like a trap, and I was pretty sure that was because it was one.

The soft murmur of voices up ahead made us stop abruptly. We squatted down, creeping forward slowly until we saw a camp only a few feet away brimming with activity. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose when I saw Deadpool, Apocalypse Barbie, and Glenn sitting smack dab in the middle bound and gagged.

It felt like I was experiencing life at the speed of 15 WTF's a second.

Daryl moved forward and I put a hand on his arm, stopping him. I put a finger to my lips, dragging him further away from camp.

"Whatcha doin'? We can't leave 'em there."

"We're not, but we can't go charging in blind." He bit his thumbnail, letting me continue. "I'm going to circle around to the far side so I can take a closer look. They've probably got men walking the perimeter so we need to be careful. They've got the numbers so we need to even the playing field."

"How we gonna do that?"

I bit my lip, thinking. "We need a diversion."

"Oh hell, this is the part where you make a bomb ain't it?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response." But yeah, this was the part where I made a bomb. "Once they're distracted we can go in and get them."

"This is a shitty plan"

I scoffed, "It's better than your plan." He opened is mouth to argue, and I pinned him with a hard look. "How many arrows do you have Katniss?"

"Five," he ground out.

"How many Saviors do you see hanging out over there?" He glared in lieu of an answer, and I smirked. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

I had no idea how many were in this group, but I was damn sure there were more than five.

"Christ."

I leaned forward, cupping his face in my hands. "I love you." I pressed my lips firmly against his, inhaling his spicy masculine scent as I pulled away. "I'll see you again."

He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed, whispering "This side or the other."

My heart pounded in my chest as I raised my fist. He swallowed hard, his left hand connecting with mine. The sound our wedding bands made as they collided made me sad even though I was at a loss as to why.

His eyes held a searing heat I'd rarely seen outside our bedroom, and that felt like a bad thing given our circumstances. Deep down, I think we both realized this was a far from a solid plan. Blowing shit up and keeping your fingers crossed wasn't ideal when lives were on the line, but it was all we had.

We took a few more moments to compose ourselves before going our separate ways. I carefully made my way to the far side of the camp so I was situated behind Deadpool, Glenn, and Apocalypse Barbie. Taking off my pack I pulled out the bottle of booze we'd found on our ill-fated trip with Denise, and my last strand of fireworks. Forcing thoughts of the recently deceased doctor from my mind I set to work making a Molotov cocktail.

Once that was done I used rope to secure the fireworks to the tree. I lit one of Daryl's cigarettes, taking a few deep drags to stoke the ember then wedged it under the rope directly underneath the firework fuse. Assuming it stayed lit, big if, I'd have roughly a few minutes before the cigarette burned down enough to hopefully light the fuse.

That was a lot of assuming packed into one plan. I was keeping my fingers crossed assumption wasn't the mother of all fuck ups cause if so we were all dead.

I quickly made my way to the east side of the camp, mentally counting down the time until the fireworks. I couldn't see Daryl, but I knew he was nearby, waiting for the signal.

I pulled my rifle strap over my head, setting it in front of me so it was easily accessible. Then I fished the lighter out of my pocket. The moment I heard the first firecracker pop I lit the rag on fire. The alcohol on the rag meant it caught fire immediately, and I stood, hurling the bottle at two men carrying firewood back to camp.

Then all hell broke loose.

Men screamed, trying to identify where the attack was coming from, some even blindly firing in random directions. A few dropped to the ground or took cover behind trees in an effort to protect themselves from the threat they couldn't identify. Unfortunately for the two men carrying firewood there would be no escape. The bottle landed at their feet and exploded, engulfing them in a golden halo of flames. They screamed, running in opposite directions in an effort to smother the fire. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, listening to them burn to death agonizingly slow.

I saw Daryl move from behind the cover of a massive oak tree, trying to maneuver through the chaos to our people. One of The Saviors spotted him and changed direction, screaming. At the same time a huge man brandishing a hunting knife ran for Glenn, Deadpool, and Apocalypse Barbie. My eyes bounced between the man with the knife trying to kill my friends and the man with the gun hunting my husband. Daryl took the decision out of my hands when he twisted to the right, firing an arrow and killing the man headed for him.

I shifted to my left, steadying my breathing as I took aim at the man about to plunge an enormous knife into Deadpoool. I squeezed the trigger and a second later he flew off his feet, hitting the ground with a thump. I wasted no time running for the trio, desperate to get them out of the crossfire. I knelt beside them, cutting through their bindings and pulling the gags from their mouths.

"Daryl, look out!" Deadpool screamed.

I twirled around, dread expanding in my chest and threatening to stop my heart. Two-Face had a gun to his head, and a smile on his face. Time slowed down to a crawl, every detail amplified, every consequence heightened.

I watched my husband turn towards me, a grim look of resignation on his face. I opened my mouth to scream, to say something, but the words got stuck in my throat. Instead, I went for my rifle, sights set on taking out the threat standing behind him.

The change on Daryl's face was almost imperceptible, but I saw it. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a warning that would come a half-second too late. Even though he was too far to close the distance he lunged for me, arm outstretched like he could somehow stop what was coming. I felt two tiny claws dig into my leg, and my body jerked, the weapon discharging though I knew the bullet wouldn't find its intended target. I didn't have time to think, to breathe, to react, before my body was flooded with 50,000 volts of electricity at once.

It felt like every muscle in my body contracted at the same time, so forcefully, so painfully it brought tears to my eyes. My knees buckled, and the rifle slipping from my stiff fingers. I convulsed, still falling, a silent scream stuck on my lips. This wasn't the first time I'd been hit with a Taser. Hell, it wasn't even the second, and I knew what came next. All that awaited me was blinding pain so overpowering it made death feel like a welcomed change.

I felt myself getting lower to the ground, my body as stiff as a board as I fell. I lost all motor control, unable to manage even simple movements much less break my fall with an electrical current frying my nerves. I hit the ground hard, sticks and rocks digging into my chest and face, but the discomfort barely registered. It felt like the worst Charlie horse known to man multiplied by a thousand, every muscle in my body twisted into knots I'd never be able to untangle. I knew this could last for as little as 5-seconds to as much as 30-seconds, and knowing these assholes I was headed for the 30-second love package.

Despite the searing sting of electricity burning through my body I was completely cognizant of what was happening. I heard a gunshot. I even knew it came from the direction I'd last seen Daryl and Two-Face. I let myself cry then. Not for the pain I was still suffering through, but for the pain I knew would follow if my worst nightmare came to pass.

A boot pressed into my shoulder, rolling me on to my back, the burning current dying down to a dull throb as he finally released the trigger. I tried to inject my stare with all the hatred I felt, but it was difficult to pull off while drooling uncontrollably. I heard Deadpool's desperate plea for mercy, Glenn trying to negotiate though we held no cards, and Apocalypse Barbie promising death to them all. You had to admire her spirit.

"Hey beautiful, good to see you again." Two-Face leaned over me, smiling while reaching for something out of my line of sight. "Want to tell me your name now or...?"

He waved the Taser in front me, and I tried not to flinch. He wanted me to know he was in complete control, and whatever was coming wouldn't be pleasant. Not that I needed the reminder. It would be a miracle if I made it through this without pissing all over myself.

"F-f-f-u-u-c-c-k...y-y-o-o-u-u-u."

He laughed, eyes focused on something behind me. "You know, that's exactly what your husband said."

I tried to ready myself as I watched him toy with the dial on the Taser, finger lazily gripping the trigger, but nothing could have prepared me. Being electrocuted wasn't something you got used to, and it sure as hell wasn't something you enjoyed.

He smirked at the panic I was unable to hide when he cranked the dial to full power. The others yelled, begged, and threatened while he smiled slowly then squeezed the trigger. A scream ripped from depth of my soul despite my best effort to stop it, and then everything went dark.

* * *

 **This is it, the last chapter before Negan. I hope you've enjoyed the build-up. I've tried to really think it through and make the events that lead up to that fateful night believable based on the characters I've developed.**

 **I'll be honest, I'm nervous about what's coming for a host of different reasons. I've agonized over it, even re-written entire chapters over and over. Don't worry, we'll get through it together. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you enjoy what I have planned.**

 **Until next time...**


	72. Day of Days

**Day of Days**

When I came to my body ached like I'd been hit by a car, and let me tell you, I'd know. I also knew from firsthand experience it would take days for the soreness to completely pass. I moaned, bracing my hands on what I was pretty sure was the floor a van, trying to push myself up without puking. My head felt too small, a feeling exacerbated by the pounding headache residing behind my eyes.

"Red."

I looked up slowly, relief so tangible I could feel it flooding my system. Daryl was propped up against the side of the van, sweaty and pale, a bullet wound visible in his shoulder. I crawled to him, Deadpool, Glenn and Apocalypse Barbie doing their best to clear a path in the tight space.

I pushed the sweaty hair out of his eyes, gently holding his face in my hands. He tried to smile, but it was more of a wince than anything. He looked terrible, and that was saying something because Daryl always, and I do mean always, looked good.

Pushing the ratty blanket off his shoulder I probed the gunshot wound. He groaned, eyes slamming shut, and I bit my lip to keep from crying. The wound was larger in the front than the back, meaning the Two-Face shot him from behind. Blood was still oozing from the hole at a steady rate, and I swallowed down a mouthful of panic.

"How long was I out?"

"Almost an hour," Deadpool answered solemnly.

"We need to stop the bleeding."

I rooted around the small van, looking for anything we could use. Glenn offered me his sweater, and reached to my boot looking for the knives hidden there, but came up empty.

"He took them before they put you in the van."

My eyes flicked to Deadpool who couldn't hold my thunderous scowl. He remembered, despite everything that happened that day the asshole remembered. I sighed, pulling on the fabric until it tore while grumbling under my breath. Once I had enough strips I handed two large swatches to Deadpool and Glenn.

"Press as hard as you can," I instructed, tears welling in my eyes. I bent down, eye level with the man I loved more than my own life. "This is gonna hurt."

"Do what ya gotta."

When he offered me a shaky smile my heart literally broke. I leaned forward, brushing my lips against his quickly before helping him lean forward, tearing his shirt away so we had access to the wound. When I nodded the two of them pressed on the wound and I started wrapping the binding. It was probably the most bootleg field dressing I'd ever done, but it was better than nothing. If we didn't get the bleeding under control then...no, I refused to go down that path.

Once the bindings were secure I tied a loose knot over the exit wound, pausing, "Ready?"

He nodded once, and I closed my eyes, pulling the dressing tight. He grunted, leaning forward, hands curled tight around the blanket. A tear sprang loose, trailing down my cheek as I quickly finished. When I was done I put the blanket back on his shoulder, easing him back against the van.

"What do we do?" Apocalypse Barbie asked.

I settled next to Daryl, my arm around him. His head lolled to the side before finally resting on my shoulder, his breathing labored. I glanced around the van, trying to pull myself together. The truth was there wasn't much we _could do_. Not with Daryl hurt, and us weaponless. Jumping from the van at this speed would risk serious injury. Given Daryl's current state it simply wasn't an option.

"We sit tight for now," I answered.

I had no idea how long we'd been driving, and keeping track of all the twists and turns was useless. I'd been unconscious for too long for it to make much of a difference now anyway.

Roughly a half-hour later the van stopped. The windows were covered with black paint obstructing most of the view, but there were a few holes that allowed us to see outside. It was dark, the sun having set long ago. I sat up straighter when I heard doors closing followed by people talking.

"How many do you think are out there?"

I closed my eyes, listening, "Thirty, maybe more." A lot more.

Daryl stirred, and I pulled back the blanket checking the bandage. It was soaked through with blood. His blue eyes met mine, and I swallowed hard. His normally luminescent eyes were dull and tinged with pain.

"Look like hell," he murmured with a lazy smirk.

I snorted, "You're insane." I brushed the hair out of his eyes. "We're gonna get through this."

"Don't do nothin' stupid."

"Me, something stupid, never." His laugh quickly turned into a moan, and I braced my hands on his chest, supporting his weight. "Daryl..."

"I love ya Red."

My eyes snapped to his face, "No, don't do that. Don't..."

"Yur the best thing that ever happened to me."

Before I could respond the doors flew open. Two-Face grabbed me by the jacket, wrenching me away from Daryl. Four other men moved forward, each yanking the others roughly from the van. Two-Face drug me through a crowd, fingers digging into my skin as I tried to look over my shoulder. He threw me to the ground, and I grunted, pushing myself onto my knees. When I looked up I felt a very real sense of dread settle into my bones.

Rick, Carl, Billy Ray, Ariel, Aaron, Sasha, Maggie, Noah, and Beth stared back at me, all of them kneeling. There were dozens and dozens of men surrounding us, all armed to the teeth, effectively snuffing out any chance of escape.

"Maggie," Glenn muttered, trying to crawl to his wife.

Everyone looked terrible, but Maggie looked near death. Her face had a pallor to it that wasn't healthy, and the way she cradled her stomach, hunching forward every so often with her eyes squeezed shut told me she was in pain. Her sister was next to her, grabbing her arm in an effort to keep her upright, tears streaking down her face. Whatever was wrong with her was serious. If Beth fled the safety of Alexandria her sister was in real trouble. She shouldn't be there. Neither of them should be here.

It wasn't difficult to imagine where this was headed. I'd been around the block enough to see the setup for what it was, an execution. We'd killed Saviors, and they'd come for their pound of flesh. Apparently, they were going to even the score with flare.

They wouldn't kill us all. It wasn't their style. They didn't survive through ingenuity or hard work. They survived by taking from others which meant they needed Alexandria for what we could provide. Killing everyone wouldn't give them that, and they had no intentions of breaking their own backs in the name of survival. No, they'd break a handful of ours in order to gain our compliance.

I gripped Glenn's arm, pulling him back while a brute of a man watched on in amusement. Deadpool was tossed on one side, Daryl on the other.

"Alright, we got a full boat." The man had a receding hairline and a dorky handle bar mustache. "Let's meet the man."

He knocked on the door to the RV, smirking at us. The man who stepped out was tall, maybe 6'1'' and in his early 50's with a wide build. Spots of gray were sprinkled in his black beard and hair. He had an edge to him, a roughness only bolstered by his obvious confidence. Taken as a whole it was a fairly appealing packaged, that was, if you liked your men with a healthy dose of psycho.

Even in the dead of night, and from a distance I could see the ruthlessness brewing in his eyes. My gut told me underestimating this man would be a mistake, one I'd likely not live to repeat. He strolled in front of us, crudely assessing our group like he was inspecting cattle.

This was Negan. I'd bet my life on it.

"We pissin' our pants yet?" He walked into the light, and a shiver raced down my spine. He had a bat with barbed-wire wrapped around the barrel perched on his shoulder. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close."

He slowly paced in front of us, assessing each and every one of us with analytical detachment.

"Yeah, it's gonna be pee-pee pants city _real soon._ "

I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes. He was every bad guy cliché jammed into one package right down to the overly dramatic monologue. Having to listen to this guy talk was an extra middle finger in a big fuck you sandwich.

"Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

"It's this one," one of his minions answered, pointing at Rick. "He's the guy."

He examined Rick with amusement. I'd admit we didn't look like much now, and Rick had clearly seen better days. He sighed heavily, walking closer and I felt myself stiffen.

"Hi, you're Rick, right? I'm Negan." God I hated it when I was right. "And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people...you killed more of my people. Not cool." He paused for dramatic effect. "Not cool, you have no idea how not cool that shit is, but I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly."

Rick finally raised his eyes to meet the madman causing Negan to purse his lips. He took a moment to study Rick, pretending like what he was about to say was difficult for him. It wasn't. He got off on this shit. I could tell by the sadistic gleam in his eyes.

"You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." He smiled and I cringed. "Yes you are."

I believed him. Even if I hadn't heard the horror stories from Hilltop his cult-like hold on his followers was ironclad. They were completely under his thumb which was startling scary. This was a large group, much larger than we anticipated, and he used them as an extension of his iron fist.

My eyes strayed to Daryl, and I found his already on me. We both knew we weren't all getting out of this alive. My brain went into survival mode, but not for myself. I needed to find a way to get as many of us out of here alive as possible. Daryl shook his head slightly like he could tell what I was thinking which he probably could.

"You see Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. The new world order exists and it's really simple so, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention."

Insert dramatic pause.

He pointed the bat at Rick, grazing his shoulder. "Give me your shit or I will kill you."

Gotta say, after all the buildup it was kind of a letdown. _Do what I want or I'll kill you_. No creativity.

Negan laughed, cracking himself up, though in all honesty that didn't seem too hard.

"Today was career day. We invested _a lot_ so you would know who I am _,_ and what I can do." He walked slowly up-and-down the line. He paused in front of me for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was only a moment, barely noticeable, but I knew his scrutiny was bad-fucking-news. "You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job."

Everyone shifted nervously, restlessness growing with each passing second. The big finale was coming. We could all feel it, and no one wanted to take it lying down.

"Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you _most_ _certainly_ will. You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged, more pegged if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be."

Maggie doubled over, shaking violently. She couldn't take much more of this. Neither could I and I wasn't even sick.

"So, if someone knocks on your door." There he went, making himself laugh again. "You let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. You understand?"

He cupped his ear, leaning forward, waiting for Rick to give him the only answer he would accept.

"What, no answer? You didn't really think you were going to get through this without being punished now did you?"

I curled my hands into fists. I couldn't let him do this, pick someone to kill while we stood by and did nothing. No, no way. I'd make his choice for him.

"I don't _want_ to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you? I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay. So, now...I'm gonna beat the _holy hell_ outta one of you."

He twirled his bat around, grinning.

"This...this is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this...all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

He inhaled sharply, walking down the line. When he stopped in front of Ariel the enormous red-head sat up straight, unflinching. His refusal to cower only served to amuse Negan, but it made my heart beat erratically in my chest.

Not him.

Not any of them.

"Huh," Negan said, studying Ariel while stroking his own beard thoughtfully. "Ugh, I gotta shave this shit."

When he walked to Carl it was all I could do to keep myself from mauling him. Deadpool's hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back into line, eyes begging me to stay still.

"You got one of our guns." He knelt in front of him. "Woah, yeah, you got a lot of our guns." Carl didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't cry. He simply stared into the eyes of a maniac. "Shit kid, lighten up. At least cry a little."

He tucked the gun into the waist band of his jeans. When he turned his eyes honed in on me. He smiled, and I legitimately wanted to puke. He made a beeline for me, stopping mere inches away, squatting down so we were eye level.

"You have _gorgeous_ _hair_." He grabbed a handful, rubbing it between his fingers. "Don't think I've ever seen this particular shade before." He tapped a finger against his lips like he was thinking. "Oh wait, yes I have...at the satellite compound."

If he was waiting for a collective gasp of shock he was going to be waiting a while. I'd already considered the fact I'd been spotted by the Saviors who eluded us until the slaughterhouse. It wasn't a huge stretch to imagine they'd radioed back the details about the individuals who attacked them.

I raised my eyebrows, staring him down. If Ariel's defiance amused him mine turned him on. Gag.

"Something to say?"

"Is this a monologue, or are you expecting input?"

I spoke too soon. Cue the collective gasps of shock...from The Saviors.

I could practically feel Daryl's panic, but I didn't dare look at him. If I did my resolve might crumble. Someone was about to die, and I was going to make damn sure it wasn't him.

For about 30-seconds Negan didn't move then he tipped his head back and let out a hearty, full-belly laugh. When he was done he wiped at his teary eyes, shoving his stupid bat in my face.

"You got spirit," he chuckled. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to force my hand." I shrugged, desperate to keep his homicidal focus solely on me. "I don't know though...you might be too pretty to kill."

He held a handful of my long hair in his palm, muttering quietly about it being soft causing me to pull away. Eww.

"You have a harem don't you?"

He stood, cocking the bat on his shoulder. "Why? Wanna join?"

"If I was a member of FLDS, lived in Utah, _and practiced polygamy,_ Istill wouldn't touch your micropenis."

His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, a devious smile on his face. He was pretending my insolence wasn't getting to him, but I saw how his hand tightened on the bat and his eyes narrowed in rage. He _wanted_ to kill me.

He took a step in my direction, and Daryl lunged, a barely audible "no" slipping from his bleeding lips. He collapsed long before he reached Negan, but it didn't stop him from clawing at the ground, trying to reach him.

Two men grabbed him, roughly pulling him back in line. Negan stopped his advance, studying me briefly before his eyes slid to Daryl. He nodded like everything now made perfect sense.

"You almost had me Spitfire," he grinned, pointing the bat at me. I glared in return, but he hardly noticed, turning his attention back to the group. "All right listen, don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions." He glanced at me in challenge. "First one's free." Now he turned to Daryl. "It's an emotional moment, I get it."

He winked at my husband who stared at him like he was looking straight through him. I felt my hope deflate with each step Negan took away from me. In my effort to save the man I loved I may have instead sealed his fate. I hadn't considered Negan having enough self-restraint to reel in his psychosis, but he had, and now he had vital information he could use.

He wondered lazily until he was standing in front of Rick who'd yet to recover. "Sucks don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit."

I'd known Rick a long time, and until this moment I'd never seen him look defeated. We'd survived by the skin of our teeth followed by miracle after miracle. There would be no miracle this time, no last minute escape. Not for all of us.

"This is your kid, right?" He laughed, pointing at Carl with the bat. "This is defiantly your kid."

"Just stop this!" Rick screamed.

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me." Rick pressed his lips together because what could he say. "I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order."

He drew out the words like this was a game, like it wasn't a life he was deciding to end. He started whistling, walking down the line, surveying everyone. Some of us made eye contact, refusing to back down even if it meant our life. Others were unable to hold his gaze, ducking their heads. There was no shame in their fear. We all felt it. We just handled it differently.

He stopped in front of me, his stupid whistling going up in pitch. He grinned at me. I kept my face blank, watching him. We continued our game for another few seconds before he grinned, looking away.

"I simply cannot decide." He bowed his head, knee-deep in psychotic thoughts. "I got an idea."

Without further explanation he pointed the bat in Rick's face. "Eenie."

"Menie." Maggie.

"Miney." Ariel.

"Mo." Deadpool.

"Catch." Glenn.

"A tiger." Daryl.

"By his toe." Me.

"If." Sasha.

"He hollers." Aaron.

"Let." Noah.

"Him go." Beth.

"My mother told me." Carl.

"To pick the very best one." Billy Ray Cyrus.

"And you." Apocalypse Barbie.

He made another pass, pointing the bat, taunting, torturing, drawing out the agonizing moment.

"Are."

I was shaking now. He stopped, pointing the bat for the last time.

"It."

He eyed the group with a lecherous smile. "Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

When Negan reared back with the bat I felt all the color drain from my face so fast it felt like I might pass out. My whole body felt numb, almost as if the vital parts of my anatomy were going into survival mode, shutting down to protect me from what was happening. It felt like I was experiencing it all through a fog. I'd seen enough death to know the feeling would eventually fade. The downside was the feeling would only be replaced by a pain so visceral it would leave me wishing for death.

I'd never forget the sound the bat made when it made contact, the reverberation of bones being crushed with incredible force. The screams of horror from the group faded to the background as I watched. I wanted to look away, to close my eyes in an effort to forever block out this memory, but I forced myself to take in every horrific detail. It would be the fuel that stoked my revenge.

"Ho! Ho! Look at that! Takin' it like a champ!"

Somehow Ariel managed to pick himself up after the fatal blow. The top of his head was smashed, blood pouring down his face so fast I had no idea how he was upright. He didn't appear to feel the pain, his body quickly succumbing to shock. It was a small mercy, but I was glad he wouldn't live long enough to feel anything.

Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie were sobbing, both unable to watch the final moments of a man who meant something to them.

"Suck...my...nuts," Ariel stuttered, spine straight, eyes blazing with nothing but pure hatred.

Negan said nothing before hitting him again. Ariel fell face first into the dirt, and he didn't move, but it didn't stop Negan from bludgeoning him over and over and over. By the time he finally stopped his chest was heaving and he was sweating profusely. He stepped back, tilting his head to the side to admire his work.

Ariel's head was unrecognizable as human. There was brain and bits of bone scattered on the ground. Blood coated the area, seeping slowly through the dirt like a morbid river. I tore my eyes away from the grisly remains of my friend, finding Negan. Blood dripped from his bat, pieces of Ariel's skull stuck in the barbed wire.

The maniac chuckled, "Did you hear that? He said 'suck my nuts'."

There was a fire burning in my belly. It started the moment I woke up in the van. It was small at first, but it was getting bigger. My default reaction to stress was to turn the most human parts of myself off in order to remain detached. It normally enabled me to function during the direst of situations. Not this time.

I didn't feel empty or removed, closed off or clinical. I felt rage, pure, unadulterated rage. My entire body felt like it was being pierced with needles from the inside, all trying to punch their way out simultaneously. I was a powder keg about to explode.

Negan went back to mutilating Ariel's dead body, pummeling him with the bat repeatedly. Apocalypse Barbie couldn't watch, hunched over with tears rolling down her face. Conversely, Sasha couldn't look away, a look of horror on her face I'd never be able to forget. I didn't know what they were to each other. I wasn't sure they knew, and now, they wouldn't get the opportunity to find out.

"Oh my goodness...look at this." Negan swung his bat in a circle, Ariel's blood splattering us. "You guys, look at my dirty girl. Sweetheart...lay your eyes on this." He shoved the bloody bat in front of Apocalypse Barbie. "Oh damn, were you...were you together? That sucks. Well, if you were, you should know, there was a reason for all this."

Daryl lifted his head, eyes boring into Negan. He ground his teeth together, hands digging into the dirt. For the first time since he'd been shot he didn't look close to falling over. I swallowed hard, eyes darting around, trying to see how many men were behind us, in front of us, surrounding us. I knew what he was going to do, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop him.

"Red... and hell, he _was_ , _is_ , and _will ever be red_ , he just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look." He shoved the bat in Apocalypse Barbie's face again. She didn't move, on her hands and knees crying. "Take a damn look!"

I was on my feet a half-second before Daryl launched himself at Negan. This wouldn't end well, but I refused to let him face this alone.

I spun around, the men behind me so stunned by our rebellion they stood there with their mouths wide open. I heard Rick shouting at us to stop as I landed a roundhouse kick to the side of a man's head. I yanked a knife from his waist, ducking to avoid a sloppy punch. I twirled around, my arm striking out and slashing through his knee ligaments. He screamed in pain, staggering to the side before falling.

Hands wrapped around me from behind, lifting me clear off the ground, and threatening to crush a rib. Unable to really move I was forced to stab him in the leg. He yelped, instantly releasing me. The moment my feet hit the ground I had the knife out of his leg and planted in his temple. No sooner had the light faded from his eyes than I was tackled from behind.

Two men pressed me into the ground, a knee digging between my shoulder blades painfully. I turned my head sideways, struggling to breathe through their combined weight. I could see Daryl a few feet away, on his back, multiple guns in his face. His eyes strayed to me as I struggled to dislodge my captors, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The expression on his face looked a lot like regret.

"No, no!" Negan roared, wiping blood from his mouth. He walked past Daryl, shaking his head at him. He stopped next to me, squatting down and brushing the hair out of my face gently. "I gotta say Spitfire, that was some grade A ninja shit. I got a little chub just watching it." I closed my eyes, refusing to play his game. Daryl renewed his struggle though it accomplished nothing but hurting him further. "But...the point of this little exercise it to teach you fuckers a lesson so..."

He stood, swinging the bat in a circle. Everyone was crying now because we all knew what came next.

"That shit doesn't fly here!" he bellowed, "

Two-Face emerged from the crowd, Daryl's crossbow loaded. He hovered over him, hand on the trigger and I resumed my struggle. Negan rolled his eyes at me, squatting down by my husband.

"You want me to do it?" Two-Face asked. "Right here."

Negan grabbed a handful of Daryl's hair, wrenching his head back. I heard him groan in pain and felt panic clawing at my insides. Negan studied him briefly before his eyes slid to me. I didn't like the evil glint in his eye.

"No, you don't kill them. Not until you try a little." Two-Face looked disappointed. He and three other guys drug Daryl back in line. The weight on my back lifted allowing me to breathe. Two men started to pull me back, but Negan held up a hand. "Not her. Bring her right here."

He pointed at the ground by his feet, and the men picked me up, dragging me over. They shoved me down hard, my knees and hands scrapping on rocks. I refused to take whatever was coming lying down so I pushed up on my knees, staring Negan down, but his attention was focused on his men.

"Cleary I underestimated your ability to keep one woman from killing more of my men so for the rest of tonight's lesson... _I'll keep an eye on Spitfire_." He walked around behind me, leaning down, so close I could feel the stubble from his beard scratching my face. I turned my head away causing him to laugh. He stuck his nose in my hair, inhaling deep, and sending Daryl into a fit of rage. "Man, you are gonna have to tell me how you managed to land such a magnificent piece of ass. Nice rings by the way...love it, so timeless."

When he placed the bat on my shoulder it took all my willpower not to cringe at the blood that seeped into my clothing, and bits of flesh and bone that dripped down my jacket. From my new position I was facing the others, all of their eyes on me, but I kept mine on my husband. He was struggling to breathe through his terror, the three men forced to keep a firm hold on him.

"You three jackwagons, stay close. Something tells me she might have a more tricks up her sleeve."

The two men who'd subdued me had the good sense to look ashamed.

"Anyway," he continued, "That's not how it works. Now, I've already told you people the first one's free then what'd I say? I said I'd shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with, but...but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So..."

He shrugged nonchalantly before turning swiftly on his heel and swinging the bat. All the air was sucked from my lungs, and despite knowing it was futile I tried to get up. The men guarding me had learned their lesson, arms locking around me before I had the opportunity to move an inch.

The bat connected with Noah's head with such force it crushed the entire front portion of his head. He didn't yell, didn't make a sound, didn't do anything, but fall forward. Beth screamed, a sound so primal, so animistic it sliced through my soul. Her sister held her back, desperate to keep her from becoming the the next victim. Noah reached for her, his fingers twitching. He opened his mouth to speak, but an awful gurgling sound drowned out his words on his first attempt.

"You...are...my...stars," he choked out.

Negan looked between the newlyweds in surprise. "Really? Well shit, two love birds in one day. I am on a goddamn roll!" He held his arms wide, proud of his depravity. "Oh hell, I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry." Noah's body convulsed, horrid gasping sounds coming from him. Beth sagged, turning to her side and throwing up. "Damn, now _that sucks_ ," he laughed. "But...I did tell you, no exceptions."

This time when he started bashing Noah repeatedly I looked away, dropping down on all fours, and doing my level-best to block out what was happening. I didn't want to remember this, any of it. Not the way the bat sounded as it shattered his skull, or the horrified wails of his new wife, or the laughter of the man responsible for it all.

The next thing I was consciously aware of was Rick threatening to kill Negan. I heard bits and pieces of an exchange with one of his men, Simon, and something about an ax before Negan ordered Rick into the RV. He left instructions to kill anyone who moved, and then they were gone.

In the minutes that followed I lost track of time, adrift in a nightmare that had no end. By the time the RV returned the sun was coming up, and my body was so sore from kneeling my bones felt broken, but my physical wounds held nothing on my emotional ones. The men tasked to watch me hadn't moved an inch, standing so close they could subdue me or kill me at a moment's notice. They were wasting their time. All the fight I had left me the moment Noah was murdered.

Negan threw Rick out of the RV, promptly grabbing his jacket and dragging him forward. He tossed him to the ground, giving him the same look you would a defiant toddler. He smiled at us, eyebrows raised like this was all a game.

"Here we are," he began, and I knew in that moment we were far from done. "Let me ask you something Rick, do you even know what that little trip was about?" He waited a beat then started again. "Speak when you're spoken to."

"OK, OK," Rick stuttered, alarm making him twitch.

"That trip was about the way...that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand, but you're still looking at me the _same damn way_. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work."

My throat was so dry it was difficult to swallow. My eyes swept from Rick to Negan and back again about a hundred times. If Rick didn't do and say exactly what he wanted he would kill someone else.

"So...do I give you another chance?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah, yes, yes."

"OK," he agreed, patting him on the shoulder. "Alright, here it is, the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's _last...crap...day_ , or just another crap day." He addressed his men, "Put some guns to the back of their heads."

My eyes fluttered closed when the barrel pressed against my head. I took a deep breath then opened them. I would face whatever came with my eyes open. I looked at my husbands, finding his lips pressed in a hard line. In that moment I regretted not fighting harder to keep him from leaving Alexandria. Merle's promise was what kept him from this, and it saved his life. I only wished I could have done the same for the man across from me.

"Level with their noses so if you have to fire." He made a sound in the back of his throat. "It will be a real mess."

Rick turned to me, shaking and distraught. He needed to do whatever he had to in order to save as many people as possible. The cost didn't matter. We'd already lost this battle.

"Kid," Negan said to Carl. "Right here." Carl didn't move, and I felt my anxiety mounting. "Kid, _now_."

Out of everyone Carl looked the most composed. I knew he was shaken. Hell, how could you not be? But he held his head high, no tears trailing down his face as he stood and did as he was told. It broke me to know why. The cruelty of this world was second-nature to him. His memories of "before" were limited, and would only continue to diminish with time. For Nugget it was even worse. The little girl would _never_ know anything else. The thought sickened me.

"You a southpaw?" Negan asked as he removed his belt.

"Am I a what?"

"Are you a lefty?"

"No." Carl's voice was strong. He wasn't scared.

"Cool." Negan wrapped the belt around his upper arm, cinching it down. I dropped my chin to my chest because I knew what it was, a tourniquet. "That hurt?"

"No."

"Sure? It's supposed to? Alright, get down on the ground kid, next to Daddy, and spread them wings." He tossed Carl's hat over his shoulder. "Simon, ya got a pen?"

Simon frowned, but answered, "Yeah."

Negan used the black marker to draw a line on Carl's forearm.

"Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you, and dragging it right across the forearm." He capped the pen, smiling at Rick. "There you go. Gives you a little leverage."

"Please, please, please," Rick begged. "Please don't, please don't."

"Me? I ain't doing shit. Rick, I want you to take your ax and cut your son's left arm off right on that line. Now I know, you're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still though, I'm gonna need you to do it or all these people are gonna die, then Carl dies, then the people back home die, then you, eventually. But I'm going to keep you breathing for a few years just so you can stew on it."

"You don't have to do this," Deadpool pleaded, crying, "We understand. We understand."

" _You_ understand, yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does." He gestured to Carl. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line."

Rick's vacant eyes darted around wildly looking for a way out that didn't exist.

"Now I know this is a screwed up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice...nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees...give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid will be fine. Probably."

I felt dizzy, unable to listen to any more of his verbal diarrhea. Kill us or let us go, but just stop talking and do it already.

"Hey, this needs to happen now. Chop, chop, or I will crush the little fellow's skull myself."

"It can...it can...it can be me. It can be me." He was crying too hard to make out his words, huge snot bubbles coming from his nose. "Y-you can do it to me. I can...I can go with...with you."

I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted the tears on my lips. I couldn't watch, not this. My eyes sought something safe, drifting around until they settled on Daryl. He was my solace in the raging shit storm. He was crying too, but doing a much better job than I was of hiding it. He kept his chin high, eyes blazing with intensity that told me to hang on just a little bit longer.

"No, this is the only way. Rick, pick up the ax. Not making a decision is a _biiiig_ decision. You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing." When Rick didn't budge Negan sighed. "Oh my god, are you going to make me count? OK, Rick, you win, I am counting!"

"Please!"

My eyes never strayed from my husband, the two of us holding each other up while our family was torn apart.

"Three!"

"Please! It can be me! Please!"

"Two!"

"Please don't! Argh, please! Ah, ah, ah,"

I swallowed hard, my breathing coming in shallow raspy pants. Daryl shook his head slightly, telling me not to look.

"This is it."

Rick's scream of desperation shattered my weak heart. It was the sound of a father dying. In that moment I couldn't fathom the pain of this choice, forced to mutilate his son or watch us all die.

"One!"

He kept screaming, but I heard him pick up the ax. It was the first time I could remember ever wanting to die. I didn't want to live through this; listening to the young man I loved being dismembered. I'd promised his mother on her deathbed I would protect him, and when the time finally came there wasn't a damn thing I could do.

"Dad, just do it," he whispered, "Just do it."

In my peripheral vision I saw him raising the weapon, heard his ragged breathing. At the last possible second Negan stopped him, kneeling beside him with a satisfied gleam in his deranged eyes.

"You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?" Rick was too shaken to answer. "Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me. You provide for me."

"Provide for you," he mumbled.

"You belong to me, right?"

"Right."

"Right. _That_...is the look I want to see." He stood, taking the ax with him. "You did it. All of us, together, even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award _for sure!_ Today was a _productive damn day_. Now, I hope for all your sake that you get it now. That you under-stand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you that is over now. Ah, Dwight, load him up."

My eyes went wide, nostrils flaring as Two-Face grabbed my husband, and threw him in the back of a van. Negan chuckled, making his way to me.

"Don't worry Spitfire, something tells me to get what I want out of that one I'm gonna need the old ball and chain as motivation." He grabbed my chin, and I jerked out of his grasp. "Put her in the back with him. Gonna be the last time they get a conjugal visit for a while."

Each man took an arm, hosing me up and roughly shoving me in the van. Daryl caught me, using his body to shield me from Two-Face who looked far too trigger happy for my liking. Maggie sobbed, staring at us while Deadpool's looked for some way to stop them from taking us. The last face I saw before the doors slammed shut was Rick. He swayed on his knees; face ashen, head shaking back-and-forth wildly.

We were engulfed in darkness briefly before the van lurched forward causing us to fall. We were lying face-to-face in the back of the dark van. I reached forward, searching for Daryl's hand. He met me half-way, his much larger hand engulfing mine as we interlaced our fingers, leaning forward until our foreheads were touching.

"Just hold on to me," I whispered, "Just hold on to me, and don't let go."

* * *

 **This is it...the reckoning we've all been dreading. I'll be honest, when I first wrote this Merle was the second person to die. I'd planned for that eventuality since I saved him back at the prison, but by the time I was done with the chapter I was crying. I didn't** ** _want_** **him to die, and it took me a few days to realize this was** ** _my story._** **If I didn't want him to die then why was he dying?**

 **In the end I changed it for no other reason than I couldn't let Merle go yet. I hope you all are good with that. If not, I'm sorry, truly.**

 **What did you think? Did it hit you in the feels? I tried really hard to infuse this chapter with all the sadness, tension, fear, and grief I know we all felt watching it. I hope it came through.**

 **I know everyone has been speculating on what would happen with Daryl and Alex...would he be taken, would she? Now we know, but don't get too comfortable we've got a long way to go yet. ;)**

 **I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you all for the support. It keeps me going.**


	73. Loving You Had Consequences

**Loving You Had Consequences**

"Welcome to The Sanctuary."

Just once I'd like to deal with a sociopath that didn't name their compound something ridiculous. _The_ _Sanctuary_ was actually an old, abandoned factory though what it produced in its heyday was anyone's guess. Now I suppose it produced homicidal maniacs.

"Get that one checked out by the doc." Negan pointed at Daryl with a sadistic smile. I'd come to the realization that was his default setting. "Got to make sure his _boo-boo_ gets better."

"And this one?" Two-Face asked, shoving me forward.

Negan tapped his thumb against his lip like he didn't already have every detail worked out. He wasn't someone who flew by the seat of his pants. He was a strategist, a planner, and he took us both for a specific purpose. Unfortunately, I understood that purpose all too well. The only reason I was here was to control Daryl. I may give him a chub, but my husband gave him a full-on boner. He wanted him to join his ranks, one way or another.

"Put her in a cell," he finally replied like it was a big reveal, "Make sure they're across from each other. I love the sound of desperation in the evening."

What an asshole. That wasn't even funny.

While two men "escorted" my husband to the doctor I was manhandled in the opposite direction. The only good news about our cells being clear on the other side of the compound was it gave me ample opportunity to collect information.

There was a barbed wire fence surrounding the place with walkers acting as deterrent for any adversary. Some were chained up, roaming aimlessly while others were propped up on huge, wooden stakes. Men moved between them, all wearing beige sweats with spray painted letters on the front, careful to avoid the numerous walkers serving as an impassable minefield. They were clearly prisoners, afforded none of the freedoms the likes of which Two-Face enjoyed.

Inside The Sanctuary was brimming with activity. Everywhere I looked there were people. I had no idea what their numbers were, but it wouldn't surprise me if it topped out at over a hundred. No one paid me any mind which wasn't too surprising. Something told me a prisoner in this place was the status quo.

I witnessed at least three fights break out over seemingly nothing. It appeared this place was like a lot like Knowhere, no laws or regulations whatsoever. If someone had something you wanted you took it. If they weren't strong enough to defend it then they didn't deserve it in the first place. Violence was the law here. Step out of line, and it would earn you a beating or worse. This wasn't a family or a community. It was a group with only one purpose, survival no matter the cost.

We passed a lush garden overflowing with fresh vegetables. The smell of fresh baked bread drifting through the air made my stomach rumble painfully and mouth salivate. These people may steal the majority of their resources, but they had a thriving ecosystem of their own if needed.

There was a clear hierarchy. Those who served, and those who got served. Men like Two-Face were clearly higher on the pecking order though no one quite measured up to Negan's status. The saying _"pick_ _your_ _poison_ " came to mind as I watched the dynamic unfold as we passed.

The main structure itself was eerie. It could easily be home to a Ghost Hunter episode without breaking a sweat. It was painted the color of despair, a cross between faded black and gray that sucked your hope of every escaping dry. Most of the windows of the enormously tall building were cracked or missing, adding to the sinister essence of Negan's home. To say this place was unsettling was like calling a yeast infection a mild inconvenience. An itchy twat was nothing to scoff at, and neither was this place.

We passed a line of vehicles all staged strategically to allow for a quick exit should the occasion call for it. I swayed on my feet, pretending to stumble to the side in order to get a closer look. My hip bumped a car and I moaned, my knees buckling slightly before Two-Face grabbed the back of my jacket, hauling me to my feet.

"Keep moving."

He shoved me to the left causing me to almost fall before I righted my footing at the last second. I kept my head down, pretending exhaustion had zapped my strength while I mulled over my findings. The keys were in the ignition. It was a _big leap_ to assume that one car with the keys in the ignition meant _all the keys_ were in the ignition, but it was a leap we'd have to take. Everything I knew about Negan said he was meticulous, always thinking two-steps ahead. Vehicles ready and raring to go at a moment's notice were just his style.

My feet stuttered to a stop a few feet later, eyes wide. This time my shock wasn't faked. Two-Face indulged my surprise, halting next to me with a grin on his disfigured face.

"It's my favorite too," he sneered, eyeing Daryl's bike appreciatively.

I ground my teeth together. If they had his bike they'd either scoured the tracks in the hopes of finding it after we were taken, or they'd been watching us for far longer than we realized. It was the latter which meant all of this was an orchestrated play by Negan, and we'd walked right into it.

"It's called originality," I sneered, "You should try it some time."

He pulled my husband's crossbow off his shoulder, eyes furious. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Only in the morning."

We both knew he couldn't kill me, not without killing himself. That was how sociopathic dictatorships worked after all. So instead of redecorating my face with an arrow he did the only thing he could, he cursed and shoved me forward.

His obsession with my husband was bordering on mania. Using his crossbow, stealing his bike, wearing his vest, it was sad, creepy, and infuriating all wrapped up into one damaged package. I didn't need a degree in psychology to know why. He was desperate to be someone, _anyone_ , other than himself.

He led me to a building adjacent from the main factory close to a back exit that was guarded by one guy who looked about as threatening as a newborn baby goat. If a newborn baby goat clocked in at 300 pounds. It was difficult to keep the smile off my face as Two-Face opened the door leading to our cells. This was the downfall of ego. It made you blind to obvious holes in your defenses.

A plan began to take shape in my mind. Granted it wasn't very elaborate, and it certainly wasn't great, but it was better than what we had a few minutes ago which was nothing. In my experience most captors didn't anticipate escape directly after imprisonment. That would especially hold true after what we'd been through last night. My gut told me they'd let us stew in our cells for a while, confident our shock, lack of sustenance, and dwindling hope would alter our perspective. I had no intentions of being here that long.

The hallway inside the prison was solid concrete, a few blinking light bulbs hanging from the ceiling every few feet. Doors flanked either side of the hall until it opened up to a wide T-intersection. A desk sat perched in the middle, a man sitting hunched over, reading. There were papers and various other innocuous supplies scattered around, but my eyes honed in on a paperclip.

That would do nicely.

A few feet from the desk I threw myself forward, bracing my hands on the desk to stop my fall. The lackluster security guard grunted in surprise, standing quickly. I groaned in pain, sprawled on top of the desk. Two-Face muttered a string of profanity, hands curling around the back of my jacket. My hands drifted over the desk until I felt the paperclip on the tip of my fingers. Once it was secure in my hand I let my legs collapse, falling to the floor in a heap.

"Jesus Christ," Two-Face grumbled.

I quickly concealed the paperclip under the sleeve of my shirt, mumbling incoherently. "What...what happened?"

"You're a clumsy bitch, that's what happened."

Two-Face hoisted me up, yelling at the guard to open cell 2A. He wasted no time throwing me inside, slamming the bars shut. The room was no bigger than 10-feet by 10-feet.

"Reminds me of my first apartment," I joked simply because it got under his skin.

"Don't get too comfortable, you won't be here long." Tell me something I _didn't know_. "Your husband on the other hand..."

"Quick question, did you always know you liked men or is just him? If it's just him, _believe me_ , I get it. He has that effect on people."

He growled in annoyance, grabbing the bars like he was fighting to keep himself from coming in. I knew he wouldn't dare. Negan was holding his leash like a noose.

"Geez man, it's a joke, not a dick, don't take it so hard," I grinned.

And...that sent him flying over the edge. He shouted, promising to kill me 100 different ways which only made me laugh. Before he did something stupid, like open the door and get his ass kicked, he stalked off.

I waited an extra few minutes after he was out of sight before retrieving the paperclip. I positioned myself with my back against the wall so I'd have the best vantage point of the hallway. Keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead I twisted the paperclip, unfolding it until it was straight. Once that was done I tucked it into the base of my ponytail, hidden, just in case they decided to do another shake down.

I walked the perimeter of the cell, looking for any weakness, another way out. The walls were solid concrete so a Shawshank Redemption wasn't happening. The bars on the impossibly small window didn't budge though it wouldn't matter if I could rip them clean off. Even if I could somehow shimmy my way out there wasn't a chance in hell Legolas could do the same. The only viable option was going out the same way we came in.

A half-hour later I heard the doors open at the opposite end of the hall, two sets of footsteps steadily drawing closer. My shoulders sagged in relief when Daryl finally came into view, a bright, white bandage peeking out from beneath his ruined shirt. The guard said nothing, opening the cell across from mine and shoving him in. The man glared at us both before pivoting on his heel and leaving.

He sat forward, hands curling around the bars. "Red?"

It was times like these our Vulcan mind meld was priceless.

"I'm good. You?"

"Gotta be." I smirked, eyes settling on his shoulder. "Ain't bad. Doc patched it up. Even gave me some meds."

He looked better, his face had regained a little color, but his exhaustion was impossible to hide. While I was glad he'd gotten proper medical care for the gunshot wound it only confirmed my fears that Negan wanted him alive and well. Absolutely nothing about that sat well with me. We had to get out of here.

"Be ready," I whispered, pointing to the sunlight streaming though my tiny window.

We couldn't risk leaving in broad daylight so we'd wait until night. He narrowed his eyes, a slight twitch in his jaw.

 _"Whatcha got planned?"_

 _"Wouldn't you like to know."_

 _"Does it involve bombs?"_

 _"You wish."_

With nothing left to do but wait we settled against the wall, both staring down the hall. No one came to check on us. They were letting us stew, contemplate the hopelessness of our new reality, and that was a blessing. We'd only get one shot at this before they realized exactly what we were capable of.

I waited another two hours after the sun set before I finally moved, groaning when my muscles protested. Daryl did the same, weight resting on the balls of his feet, eyes locked on me. I fished the paperclip from my hair, reaching outside the cell, searching for the lock.

Daryl pointed to his left and I moved my hand accordingly until I felt the outlines of the locking mechanism. I wasn't sure this would even work, but it was this or try to fit through the window. As much as I loved my husband he wasn't a small man. There was a better chance of one of us getting injured in a vending machine related accident than him escaping through the window.

I fumbled with the lock, internally cursing when I couldn't get the placement right blind. I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm my frazzled nerves. I had to get us out of here. There was no other option. I wouldn't let them sink their claws into my husband. _I couldn't._

When the paperclip finally slipped into the correct position I held my breath, turning and pushing until I heard the lock click. In the absolute stark silence of the prison I was positive the guard would hear and come charging down the hall. When he didn't show I twisted my arm at an awkward angle, trying to gain the right leverage until...there. The lock clicked one final time before disengaging. The cell opened slightly, and I stood slowly, slipping out.

I had Daryl's cell open in half the time. Once he was free he gathered me in his arms, kissing me roughly before snagging my hand.

"How many ya see on the way in?" he whispered.

"One, you?"

"Same."

We silently crept towards the guard who was still hunched over his book reading. The only time I'd ever seen a guy so engrossed in a book it had naked women on the cover. He was so absorbed in his novel (porn) he never heard us coming so it wasn't surprising Daryl was able to grab a fist full of his hair and slam his head into the desk. His eyes rolled into the back of his head immediately. Daryl careful positioned him on the desk, making it look like he'd simply fallen asleep on the job. Not that it would save him with Negan. The guy didn't strike me as the type to dole out second chances for incompetence.

Daryl searched him, shoving a gun in the back of his jeans, and handing me a knife. I paused, staring at the weapon.

"Why do you get the gun?"

"Are ya kiddin' me?"

"Is this some macho thing? I don't have a penis so I can't have the gun?"

I was aware this wasn't the appropriate time to hash out male-female roles in a crisis situation, but sue me.

He threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "I gave ya the knife cause yur better with it."

I nodded, "That makes sense."

"Can we go now?" He waved his hand in front of him dramatically, offering to let me lead the way.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do I get to go first? Is your dick on loan?"

"I swear to..."

"This way," I interrupted, walking down the hall, "Your bike is just outside."

"I saw it."

"Keys are in the ignition."

"Ya sure?" I turned, crossing my fingers. "Christ."

I don't know what he was bitching about. If the keys weren't there we could just hot wire the thing. Men were so fragile when the stakes were high.

When we reached the door I slowly cracked it open, peering out. I didn't see anyone walking around, but I couldn't see much so that didn't mean much. I knew for sure there would definitely be a guard at the back gate. Quietly I closed the door, turning to face him.

"Whatcha see?"

"Not much. Just one guy at the back gate."

"Yur sure?"

"There better be or we're screwed."

He took a deep breath, biting his thumbnail. "He could see us the second we come out."

Which was why he wasn't going anywhere until he was dead.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." His giant hand clamped down on my wrist before I could even think about moving.

"Explain."

I rolled my eyes which made his narrow in response. "I have the quiet weapon. You have the weapon that goes _boom_."

"Ain't gotta be such a smartass."

"You don't have to be such a caveman."

The banter between us made me feel almost normal, like what happened last night wasn't real. I think he felt it too, his lips twitching at the corners in a barely there smile. We were holding onto our sanity with our fingertips. If we let our emotions get the better of us before we were out of here we died.

He released me and I took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment then blowing out slowly. There was only one guy at the gate. _There had to be_. Anything else meant we may not make it out of here, and I refused to consider that outcome. Even with only one man standing between us and freedom I only had a knife. I needed to be quick and silent.

I slipped out the door, into the stark blackness of the night, careful to keep my back pressed against the wall. The guard at the gate was in a similar position, lazily smoking a cigarette with one leg cocked up. I moved silently, waiting until I was within striking distance before whistling. The noise made him startle as he pushed off the wall, clutching the rifle in his hand.

The knife was sailing through the air before he could process what was happening. I ran for him, watching the blade impale him in the eye. His body crumpled instantly, and I lunged for his body, catching the rifle before it clattered to the ground.

Crouching over his body I waited a few seconds. When no one came charging around the corner I doubled back, opening the door and gesturing for Daryl to get the bike. He wasted no time, rolling it to the gate while I used the rifle as a fulcrum to break the thin chain wrapped around the exit. The gate scrapped against the concrete when I opened it, and I winced, hoping no one heard. Daryl quickly wheeled the bike out, throwing a leg over before turning to face me.

"Hey, you, stop!"

I turned quickly, firing before the man coming at us could do the same. The gunshot was like a homing beacon, echoing in The Sanctuary repeatedly. Since stealth was now a thing of the past Daryl kick started his bike, the engine roaring to life. A group rounded the corner, and a moment later a bullet snapped into the concrete at my feet. My heart raced when an alarm blared to life, alerting the entire compound to our escape.

I swallowed hard, glancing over my shoulder. My husband's eyes were wide, his breathing erratic. There were less than 20-feet separating us, but when I took a step in his direction another gunshot whizzed by, forcing me back. They weren't trying to kill me. They were trying to contain me. I wasn't going to make it.

Iron clad resolve straightened my spine even as another bullet passed by dangerously close. He realized my intentions a split second too late, head shaking wildly as I grabbed the fence, slamming it closed.

"Go!" I screamed, turning and firing at the approaching men, trying to give him a chance to escape.

"No...don't ya dare!"

But I already had.

Another bullet embedded itself near my feet, forcing me further from the exit. Daryl fired a shot with the six-shooter he'd stolen, but it wasn't going to do either of us any good. There were _way_ more than six people closing in on me.

One of the men stopped, taking a knee, tucking the rifle into his shoulder. I followed his line of sight, directly to my husband who'd yet to flee to the safety of the nearby woods despite the danger. Desperate I raised my own weapon, squeezing the trigger, but instead of killing the man there was a clicking sound followed by an awful crunch. Twisting the weapon sideways I pulled the charging handle back only to find a round jammed in the chamber. Cursing I dropped the rifle and ran.

I pumped my arms and legs, ignoring the screams for me to surrender, closing the distance to the shooter. My foot made contact with his arm right before he fired, sending the shot wide. I slammed my fist into his jaw, and he collapsed at my feet.

"Red!"

Even though I knew I was trapped I felt nothing but relief hearing him scream from beyond The Sanctuary. He was out. He had a chance. He would survive. It didn't matter what happened to me as long as those things held true.

The day after I met him I risked my life to save his. I didn't understand why then, but I did now. In him I'd found my purpose. I'd found the peace that had eluded me. I would always sacrifice myself for him. He'd be livid. Later, when he was safely away from here he'd stew in self-loathing, hating himself for leaving me behind, but it wasn't his choice. It was mine.

In the end it always came back to choice.

The group closed ranks around me, and I lifted my knife, staring them down. A lone man stepped forward, poised to attack, and I slashed at him with the knife. His large hand clamped down on my arm, stopping my counterattack. He twisted hard, my joints pulled painfully in the wrong direction. Instead of trying to tug against his hold I threw my body in the same direction, somersaulting over our joined arms.

The pressure on my arm eased the moment my feet hit the ground, and the man was unable to keep a hold on me. I brought my leg up high, slamming the sole of my boot into his barrel chest. He staggered back a few feet, sucking in a lung full of air, head cocked to the side, smirk on his face. Of all the people I had to square off with a Jackie Chan wannabe.

I flipped the knife in my hand, the weapon rolling graceful around my fingers until the blade was pointed down. The rest of the Saviors simply stood back, watching the fight unfold. It was clear their orders were to subdue me, and they were happy to let this guy take all the credit.

He didn't keep me waiting long, charging at me like a raging bull. I used my right hand to block the punch, countering with the knife. He stopped the weapon with his forearm, careful to keep his distance from the razor sharp blade. He was much larger and stronger so matching him blow for blow wasn't an option. What I lacked in strength I more than made up for in speed and training.

He raised his eyebrows in a cocky manner that said he believed he had the upper hand. Amateur. In his overconfidence he'd taken no measure to restrain my opposite hand. He had a firm hold on my left arm so I released the knife, dropping down and catching it with my right. The moment I felt the hilt of the weapon I closed my hand, twisting and rearing back, trying to embed the razor sharp weapon in his side. He released me, leaping away to avoid the fatal stab, quickly countering with a right hook I easily avoided by diving to the side and springing to my feet.

He executed a perfect jump spinning sidekick, hitting me just below the ribs. The air punched out of my lungs, throwing me back, and wrenching the knife from my hand. By the time I recovered he was coming right at me, launching into the air, a flying knee kick aimed at my face. I darted to the side, barely avoiding the strike. He flew by, awkwardly landing in the chain-link fence.

He recovered quickly, righting his footing, and sending an elbow at my face. I blocked the attempt by grabbing his arm, and locking it under my armpit. Using his body and momentum against him I gained the leverage I needed to throw him to the ground.

While the man was disoriented I retrieved my knife, but before I could end his life I was tackled. Someone pressed my face hard into the concrete, twisting my arm roughly behind my back and making me wince.

"Now, now Spitfire, this isn't part of the lesson." I couldn't see Negan, but I'd never forget the sound of his voice. "Go get him."

I squirmed, fighting the weight pinning me down even though I knew it was useless. A group of men jumped into cars while someone opened the gate. I caught a brief glimpse of Daryl's grief-stricken face before he twisted the throttle, disappearing into the darkness.

Negan knelt where I could see him, lips pursed like my jailbreak was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "You really think you've accomplished anything, but pissing me the fuck off?"

"Who says that wasn't what I was aiming for?"

He chuckled making his shoulders shake. Something about making this man laugh left a bad taste in my mouth. He glanced at the dead gate guard, shaking his head.

"I was trying to be the good guy here. Give you two the night off."

I attempted to shrug, but it was almost impossible with a boot wedged between my shoulder blades.

"Once you let a motherfucker slide they start to think they can ice skate," I quipped.

"Ha! That's classic." He looked away from me to his men who shifted uncomfortably. "Any of you ladies want to retrieve your balls? I think she has them in her purse."

None of The Saviors laughed, but I actually thought it was pretty funny. Stereotypical, but funny.

"How many of my men have you killed now?" I didn't answer because honestly, I had no idea. I lost track back at the satellite compound. "That's just downright unacceptable." He clucked his tongue, watching me. "What, nothing to say?"

"Sorry, I zoned out. I figured you were drifting into monologue territory again."

He grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking my head so hard my neck cracked. "Your mouth is writing checks your body can't cash."

"Top Gun, really?" I snorted.

Technically the line was "your ego is writing checks your body can't cash", but I knew plagiarism when I heard it, and this was plagiarism in its purest form.

He grinned, pointing at me like we were sharing an inside joke. "Nice." He finally released my hair and I let my head flop on the concrete. "I knew there was no taming you. I only brought you along to speed up your husbands...transition, shall we say. This changes things. Now, when we get him back, _and we will get him back_." He eyed me with amusement. "Once we do I'm not sure I can go that route. I mean...look at the damage you caused in one night." He waved his hand at the dead guy before turning his sights on the guy whose ass I'd just whooped. "I thought you said you could handle her?"

"I can." Negan said nothing, staring him down. He cleared his throat, taking a tentative step back. "She surprised me is all."

"Shut your mouth," he barked, voice dangerously low. He turned his attention back to me. "What am I going to do with you Spitfire?" He tapped his finger on his chin, raising his eyebrows. "Well..."

"Hang on, I'm trying to decide if I give a shit."

My response shattered his carefully constructed poise. The lines around his eyes tightened, his jawline moving back-and-forth as he ground his teeth in agitation. I was well acquainted with that look. Most of my teachers sported it at one time during my youth. I was getting to him, and he didn't like it one bit. In an effort to level the playing field he switched tactics.

"You'll pay for that...or rather your old man will, just as soon as we beat his ass, and drag him back."

My laugh caught him off guard. He _still_ didn't get it. I didn't give a flying fuck what he did to me. The only way he could hurt me just escaped so he could take his unoriginal speeches, and shove them up his ass.

"Care to share?" he prodded, his grip on my hair constricting.

"You'll never find him."

Daryl was like smoke, and he was smart to boot. He knew going to Alexandria or Hilltop would simply land him right back here or worse. Luckily he didn't need a community to survive. He was more at home in the woods than he'd ever been at Alexandria, or anywhere else for that matter. He'd hunker down, and figure out his next move.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because..." I paused for dramatic effect just to irritate him. "You have no fucking idea who you're dealing with."

He studied me, head cocked to the side. "I believe you're right Spitfire, _but that_ , is an error I intend on remedying." He grinned, and I felt my stomach bottom out. His creep factor was off the charts. "Can't say I've come across anyone who has such piss poor self-preservation instincts."

"My give a fuck is broken."

"Oh yeah, that's for _damn sure._ " He hummed, considering his next words carefully. "But...everyone's afraid of something."

I was afraid he'd keep talking. Did that count?

"Everyone dies, it's just a matter of how, on your knees or on your feet," I replied casually, like I wasn't facing such a choice.

He grinned, "Looks like it's gonna be on your knees Spitfire."

"Who said I was talking about me?"

"Put her in the hole."

Two men lifted me, dragging me between them, the tips of my boots dragging behind me. The hole was aptly named. A dingy room that at one time was probably a supply closet. It was smaller than the cell I'd occupied earlier, and lacked a view. The pungent smell of body odor, blood, and human excrement made my lip curl in disgust.

Two-Face shoved me inside, a satisfied grin on his mangled face. Negan stepped in behind him. If the smell of the room bothered him he showed no sign of it. The asshole probably loved the smell of death and desperation.

"Strip," Two-Face demanded.

I kept my expression carefully blank even as my heart raced. It would be idiotic to think rape wasn't on the table. I complied because if I didn't I knew they'd simply do it for me. Besides, the disheveled clothes I wore weren't going to stop them if it came to that.

I started with my boots, kicking them off. Two-Face quickly retrieved them, tossing them into the hall. I didn't think about what I was doing as I slipped out of my jeans and jacket, throwing them at the man. This was torture just like any other, a way to show me who was holding all the cards. It was demoralizing, and it was done without ever laying a hand on me.

When I was down to my underwear and bra Two-Face diverted his eyes with an awkward cough. However, the surprising move felt more like deference to Negan than respect for me. The only difference between the two of us was he willingly complied with his subjugation.

When I was completely naked Negan took his time studying me. I felt his eyes traveling over my exposed flesh like a searing brand, but I kept my chin up and back straight. He stepped closer, and I narrowed my eyes, refusing to take a step back in order to maintain the distance between us.

"I shouldn't tell you this. I should let you sit here freaking the fuck out, but I'm nothing if not a gentleman." He grinned, licking his lips suggestively. "I don't tolerate rape. No one will touch you...not like _that_ anyway."

His words meant nothing. After what I'd witnessed I didn't believe there was any line he wasn't willing to cross. He reached forward, and I couldn't stop myself from leaning away, unable to stand the thought of his hands on me. He laughed, but said nothing, grabbing my ponytail and pulling out the hair tie. My long, red hair spilled down my back, the strands tickling the middle of my back. He sucked on his lip, taking yet another step closer and threaded his fingers through the long strands. I closed my eyes, holding my breath. The feel of his hands massaging my scalp made my stomach revolt violently.

When he found the paperclip he clucked his tongue, gently pulling it out of my hair. "A paperclip? Really?" I said nothing, trembling but not from the cold. "I bet you have _one hell of a story Spitfire_."

When he finally stepped away I exhaled harshly, moving back until my back hit the freezing wall.

"My plan was to use you to get the ol' hubby to see things my way. Join the ranks of my esteemed army." Yeah, I figured as much. "Once we get him back...and we will get him back...I may have to accelerate my timetable because you are turning out to be a _gigantic_ pain in my asshole."

"I've heard lube helps with that."

"Ha! Naked, locked up, _and still cracking jokes!_ If I didn't think you'd kill me with a paperclip I'd make you one of my wives."

Yeah, because that was the only thing standing between us and wedded bliss.

"Don't get comfortable Spitfire." He paused in the threshold of the door, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Once I get Daryl back I'm going to carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey."

"Good luck with that."

He slammed the door, plunging the room into complete darkness, but I could hear his maniacal laughter in the hallway. I slid down the wall until I hit the ground, bringing my legs to my chest, and wrapping my arms around them. It was freezing, my teeth chattering and body shaking, but I let my head rest on the wall. The pull of exhaustion tugged at me despite the frigid temperatures.

Negan thought to break me, but there would be no surrender, not now, not ever. He was the only one who didn't already know how this ended. If by some miracle they found Daryl they'd kill me in a futile attempt to gain his allegiance. If they didn't he would use me to keep a choke hold on Alexandria. Either way the outcome was the same.

Before Daryl I'd always believed loving someone drove people to stupid choices that were actually bettered defined as risks. In turn, those risks ended up killing them, and in the new world dying didn't mean you stayed dead. Nothing was guaranteed anymore.

I saw things different now that I'd experienced love firsthand, but one thing remained the same. I didn't fear death, least of all now, when my sacrifice meant the one person I vowed a long time ago to protect no matter the cost was safe.

Within minutes my eyes fluttered closed, and didn't open again for some time. In my dreams I was far away from here, away from The Sanctuary and The Saviors. I was safe. I was home. I dreamed of my family, of better times, and most importantly, the man I loved.

* * *

 **This is another major plot divergence from the show. Instead of Daryl being imprisoned by The Saviors Alex sacrificed herself to free him. This will have lasting consequences going forward, as well as a ripple effect in terms of differences between this book and the show.**

 **Recently someone asked if there was a soundtrack associated with this book, or chapters. The song, Don't Give Up On Me by Andy Grammer comes to mind for Alex and Daryl. The song feels perfect for them, and when I hear it I can see all the moments in their relationship, past, present, and future. Give it a listen, and let me know what you think.**

 **How did you like this curve ball? Are you excited about what's coming or dreading it?**


	74. Disturbia

**Disturbia**

The mind was a tricky thing. It didn't work the way I thought it did. Nothing does.

Life.

Love.

Sacrifice.

Death.

I never understood any of it.

How do you measure a person's life, their worth? Was it in the all times they fell short? Or the few times they got it right?

Maybe it was all the times in-between, the moments, small, seemingly insignificant details shinning brighter than all the rest. Maybe that was all that _really_ _mattered_. I hoped so. The thought was a comfort to me now.

Not that long ago I believed death was far easier than life, but then again, I used to think a lot of things. Mainly, I used to think this was where the story ended, but now, I wasn't so sure.

My time in captivity had crawled by excruciatingly slow, but afforded me a lot of time to think. Hell, my days were pretty wide open. I was either locked in my cell being psychologically tortured or surrounded by Savior's who continually tried to beat me into submission. I preferred the cell all things considered.

While my body was securely locked away my mind was free to wander. The human body will go to extreme lengths to cope with suffering, and this was no exception. For reasons beyond my comprehension I'd been focused on the concept of peace lately. Pondering whether it was real or simply an illusion?

I'd come to the conclusion that if it did exist I'd never experienced it. I'd fought for it, bleeding so that others could enjoy its comfort, knowing deep down I'd never feel it myself. My childhood was as far from peaceful as you could get. It was as if fate was preparing me for a future no one saw coming. As an adult my life looked much the same as it had in childhood. I fought, but not for myself. I battled in the name of the oppressed, or my country, but despite my seemingly righteous quest I still knew nothing of peace. There was no peace for someone whose hands were stained with blood.

Ironically, the closest I'd ever come to peace was the day the world ended. I'd visited my sister with the promise of peace poised on my lips, but the streets of Atlanta descended to chaos before I got the chance. Any possibility I had to feel the tranquility of it vanished the day the dead rose.

My grandfather used to say it was always darkest before the dawn. It was a nice concept, but it was a fairytale meant for children. The reality was no one understood darkness. Assuming it was simply the absence of light was categorically incorrect. No, true darkness was far more malevolent. It was bone chilling, cold and grim. It lacked a perception that left you hopeless to decipher the passage of time while simultaneously leaving you lonely, hopeless, and utterly vulnerable. What my grandfather failed to pass on in my youth was the second half of the story...sometimes you didn't live long enough to see the dawn.

 _"Sing the song with the dolphin."_

The sound of her voice made me cringe. It was one thing to _know_ you were too far gone to come back. It was entirely different to _see it_.

I didn't look at her because acknowledging her presence felt like acknowledging my insanity. However, despite not wanting to oblige the request I immediately heard the song in my head. The words played on my lips, every syllable tangling with my teeth as I teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. I was so tired, so utterly exhausted, I found it hard to do even the simplest of things, but rest, much like peace, eluded me.

Not that it mattered. Rest wouldn't come even if I did manage to sleep. I gave up on that prospect days ago. At least I think it was days. Despite being on the verge of a coma, which was as close to rest as I was likely to come, I had no idea how long I'd been here. Tears dripped from eyes, some from pain, some desperation, most from sheer, raw grief.

I sang because it reminded me of a time before this. I lay on my back, staring at the swirling void of blackness hovering above me. Just like the woman waiting impatiently in the corner I saw something no one else did. Instead of endless nothingness I saw a clear, blue sky. It was a blue so hauntingly familiar my heart ached at the sight of it.

Now more than ever I yearned for the oblivion of sleep yet at the same time feared the torment awaiting me in my dreams. Ironic I considered it torment considering my dreams, for the most part, were happy. That was the problem. I knew, even though I didn't remember why, that what I was remembering wasn't right. My life was filled with pain and death, regret and loss, but somehow all that hovered on the edge of my conscious mind was love and happiness. I dreamed of peace though I knew nothing of it.

My lips moved, singing the song she always requested. A song of redemption I had no right to feel because I was nobody. I was nothing. I'd been unmade in this place, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could change that.

 _"I...I wish I could swim."_

My voice sounded foreign to my ears, gravely and weak after so long without use. I didn't know how long I'd been in this room. Six days, maybe more, maybe less. The passage of time was only marked by Two-Face's appearances which were anything but regular. When he came he opened the door only wide enough to throw "food" at my feet, dog food squished between two slightly molded pieces of bread. Water was distributed via a dog bowl that was sitting in the corner, bone dry.

In the beginning he waited, waited for me to cry, to beg, to break, to do anything other than simply retrieve the slop he called food and crawl to the bowl, greedily slurping the contaminated water. Only after he'd left, slamming the door in his frustration, did I retreat to the corner of the room I'd designated as the bathroom to dry heave. The cold, gritty dog food covered in a brown gelatin simply too vile to eat without something resurfacing. The water was no better, swimming with contagions that made my stomach cramp painfully.

I was given only enough rations to keep me alive, no more, no less. Despite knowing it might do more harm than good I was unable to abstain, knowing I needed something, anything, to keep my body going.

When I was done puking I cried. It wasn't from the pain though it would be easy to attribute it to that. Sometimes I dry heaved so hard and so long I was sure I'd cracked a rib. No, my tears were because I was ashamed of my weakness. I would stare down at the bile, lips trembling in disgust while my stomach rumbled. That was how low I'd fallen, forced to consider eating my own vomit in order to stay alive.

 _"Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim. Though...nothing, nothing will keep us...together."_

Just like every other time she appeared I closed my eyes, unable to bear the smile staring back at me from across the room. I first saw her three days ago when despite my best efforts the lack of food, water, clothing, and constant music pumping through the speakers quite literally drove me to madness.

 _"We can beat them, forever...and ever."_

The last part always choked me up because I don't believe it, and I know she does. I know I'm never getting out of here. The only thing that gives me solace was the fact they never found Daryl. If they had I'd be the first to know. The second they brought him back they'd have come for me and this torment would finally be over as I alone held the key to his submission. The fact I was still breathing meant he was too.

Despite knowing I'd never seen him again I was glad he wasn't here, suffering with me. I could withstand a lot, but not that. I couldn't endure the thought of him huddled naked in a corner, covered in dirt, blood, and puke, wishing for death while hoping for a miracle. The mere idea of his body covered in bruises so extensive it was impossible to find a patch of skin that wasn't black and blue made me sick. Even as I thought about it I shook my head, forcing the images of him locked in a hole identical to mine out my mind.

He wasn't here.

He was safe.

It felt like I had a lifetime to think about everything, but a rescue had never entered my mind. I may be crazy, but I wasn't stupid. That wasn't an option. This place was a fortress. Attacking would be foolhardy. Alexandria lacked the bodies, and Hilltop lacked the spine. Saving myself was my only option, but right now I could hardly hold my head up much less free myself. So instead of wasting my time on a plan I'd never live to see fulfilled I sang, simply because she asked me to.

 _"We can be heroes..."_ My voice cracked, throat painfully dry, lips chapped and bleeding slightly. _"Just...for one...day. We can be us...just...for...one...day."_

The last word was nothing, but a whisper. She clapped loud, squealing in delight causing me to bury my head in my hands. I didn't want her here, didn't want any of them here because I knew what it meant. That I was breaking, that I was losing my mind to madness, that Negan was winning.

Her clapping stopped as suddenly as it started, but I refused to look at her. She sighed dramatically, trying to wait me out, but even in death she was impatient. It was good to know what few brain cells I still had functioning could at least get the details of my hallucinations right.

 _"Why haven't you tried to escape?"_

I dropped my hands, eyes blazing with anger as I glared at her. My sister tilted her head to the side, glaring right back at me. She looked exactly as I remembered, young, beautiful, and very much alive. It was the last one that made my hands shake uncontrollably because my sister was most certainly _not alive._

The first time I heard her voice I ignored it. I may be a few cards short of a full deck, but I refused to acknowledge it. She didn't seem to care, chatting idly about nonsense like I wasn't being held prisoner in a shithole I was sure to die in, and she wasn't buried under a tree in Georgia. I'd stopped ignoring her at some point, the effort something I simply no longer had in me.

She wasn't the only friendly ghost to pay me a visit. Lori, T, Hershel, my grandmother, every person I cared about and subsequently lost throughout my life had made an appearance. They all brought different messages like some kind of fucked up version of A Christmas Carol. It made sense. My life had always been fucked up, why would my death be any different?

Lori looked like she did back at the farm, before we found out about Nugget. She constantly repeated that it wasn't my fault, eyes sad. I still wasn't sure if she was referring to herself or Noah, but I knew she was wrong on both accounts.

Hershel quoted scripture that made little sense, but somehow made me feel better. The melodic sound of his steady voice soothed me just as it had in life. It wasn't until I noticed his legs were both fully intact that I came to the conclusion I was remembering them all before the cruelty of this world changed them.

T was there when I woke one morning wearing a big smile, and cracking even bigger jokes. He laughed constantly, upbeat despite the circumstances, reminding me that my glass was still half full even if it didn't look like it. I didn't have the heart to tell him my glass shattered the day I lost him at the prison.

By the time my grandmother appeared the shock of what was happening was starting to wear off. She looked younger, a clear sign I was remembering her from a time before her husband died. She sat beside me, gently stroking my disgusting hair while trying to hide her tears. She told me to hold on, to keep fighting, and to never give up.

Each one brought a different message, but at one point or another they all asked _that_ _question_. Why was I still here? They phrased it like me escaping was a forgone conclusion, like it wouldn't be a monumental undertaking to break out of here given my current state and surroundings.

The part that tripped me out the most was every question or comment, every accusation or conclusion voiced by the ghosts were actually coming from me. If that wasn't a mind fuck of the highest order I didn't know what was. These people may be figments of my imagination, but they were putting a voice to the question I'd been avoiding since Negan stripped me naked and locked me up.

Why was I still here?

"Because I can't," I ground out, finally answering her question.

 _She clucked her tongue, narrowing her eyes. "That's bullshit and you know it. You haven't even tried."_

"That's not true."

I tried the very first night, and made it all the way to the back gate before I was subdued. So close yet so heartbreakingly far away. Too bad close only counted in horse shoes and hand grenades.

My sister leveled me with a glare that hadn't worked when she was alive, and certainly didn't now that she was long dead.

 _"You know what I mean."_ I really didn't. She sighed dramatically like my avoidance annoyed her. _"You haven't tried because you're afraid of escaping only to find out he didn't make it."_

There it was.

My nostrils flared, and I turned abruptly, giving her my bruised back so she couldn't see the truth, that she was right. Or was it that I was right? Jesus, this shit was confusing.

In truth, it didn't matter who was right because it didn't change the facts. I was terrified of breaking out only to find out he was gone. That he'd never made it back. That he was...dead. I couldn't handle that so I made the decision to live out whatever time I had left in this cell with the hope that he was out there, alive, surviving. The alternate, living without him, wasn't an option.

Thinking about my husband drew my attention back to the Polaroid of Noah's mutilated body. I placed my hand over it, squeezing my eyes shut. Two-Face had taken great pleasure taping it to the wall in the hopes it would speed up my deterioration. He was wasting his time. I didn't need the picture to torture myself with what happened that fateful night.

The gruesome images were seared into my brain. I'd never forget it no matter how hard I tried. I could still hear Beth's screams, could feel the force of it slamming into me even now, miles away and days removed. It was a sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I wondered how she was doing. I couldn't fathom her pain, and hated that my actions resulted in the worst moment of her life. I knew she hated me, and that was OK because I hated myself.

The cell door opened, and I was almost glad to see Two-Face, _almost_. He tossed me a pair of dingy, off-white sweats with a spray painted letter A on the front, barking orders to hurry up and get dressed. It took me a few seconds to sit up, and a few more until the room stopped spinning. My arms and legs felt oddly disjointed, heavy with an ache so deep in my bones I was positive it would never dissipate. When I glanced in the corner my sister was gone, and somehow, that made me feel more alone which was ridiculous.

With sluggish movements and moans of pain I didn't even try to bite back I shrugged on the oversized sweats. Two-Face sighed heavily while he waited, the blood vessel in his forehead pumping furiously with impatience. The clothes hung off me, "one size fits all" clearly not designed for impoverished prisoners.

He grabbed my upper arm, hauling me out of the cell so quickly I was unable to keep up. The light in the hallway, dim as it was, nearly blinded me after so long spent in total darkness. He cursed, forced to sling my husband's crossbow across his back so both hands were free to keep me from falling. When we finally emerged outside I dropped to my knees with a strangled moan, covering my dirty face with my filthy hands.

"Goddamn Spitfire, you look like regurgitated dog shit," Negan chuckled. Well, I felt like regurgitated dog shit. "We're gonna take a little field trip. Are you excited?" He pulled my hands away from my face then grimaced, quickly wiping them on his jeans in disgust while I did my best to scowl at him. "Ooh, I know that look...that look means you hate me."

"I don't hate you. I'm just not necessarily excited about your continued existence," I deadpanned.

He'd long ago crushed my spirit, and was probably days away from killing me, but I'd be damned if I let him know it. Surrender wasn't a word in my vocabulary.

He slapped a hand on his leg. "See! _That_ , _that right there_ is why I haven't killed you." He gestured to Two-Face, "Put her in the van."

So if I stopped being funny he'd put me out of my misery? It would be hard, but I could probably stop being hilarious if I tried really, really hard. Joking aside I knew he was keeping me alive for more than entertainment value. He had an agenda, and I played a key role in it.

Two-Face slapped a pair of cuffs on my wrist while his cohort put an identical pair on my ankles, a chain around my waist connecting the two. This was an overreaction of the highest order. I was having a hard time remaining upright while they locked and double-double checked the restrains. I wouldn't make it two steps before I collapsed even without the cuffs. Between dehydration, sleep deprivation, starvation, and the occasional ass-whooping I wasn't going anywhere.

Negan hadn't been lying when he locked me in the cell. Rape was off the table, but everything else was firmly _on_ _it_. The bruises, cuts, and blood marring my body were proof of that. The longer I held out the more severe the beatings became.

A black bag was thrown over my head, and I was lifted into the back of a truck. It was obvious this dog and pony show wasn't to scare me. He was trying to send a message, and the smart money said it was aimed at Alexandria.

With nothing else to do I tried to concentrate on how long it took us to get from The Sanctuary to Alexandria, _if that's where we were headed_. Roughly 20-minutes later, if my one-Mississippi's were correct, the van shuttered to a stop, and someone laid on the horn. A few moments later we were moving again until the van rolled to a stop and the engine sputtered out. I heard Negan, and inched closer to the doors, straining to hear.

"Don't you remember Rick...if someone knocks on your door, you let us in."

My tongue got stuck on the roof of my mouth, sweat beading down my face. _We were in Alexandria._ I didn't know what I was more worried about, that Daryl would be here, or that he wouldn't. For the first time since our botched escape I felt something that felt a lot like hope bubbling in my veins. Seeing my family, even if I wasn't able to stay with them, would help. I needed a reminder of what I was fighting for, and this was it.

"We let you in," Rick conceded, his voice submissive, "But we don't have anything yet. You were just here...took all our weapons..."

"I'm not here for a pickup Rick...not in the traditional sense anyway. Dwight!"

The doors to the van opened, and I was pulled out. With the chains I couldn't walk, not well, and certainly not fast. The dicks hadn't even bothered to give me shoes, and I winced every time I stepped on a rock or piece of glass. The men holding my arms didn't give a rat's ass about my struggle, dragging me forward before forcing me to my knees.

"I'm looking for someone Rick, and I think you know who," Negan sing-songed.

Someone, most likely Negan, put a hand on the top of my head, waiting a few seconds before pulling the bag off. The sunlight made my eyes water uncontrollably, my matted hair falling over my shoulders, and covering half my face. There was a collective inhale directly in front of me, and I blinked rapidly, raising my chin slowly as my eyes adjust to the blinding light.

"This here...is what I like to call, motivation," Negan laughed, slapping a hand on my shoulder.

Rick stood a half-step in front of everyone else. His face was devoid of color, eyes wide and appalled. He scanned me slowly up-and-down, mouth opening and closing a few times in abject horror, but that wasn't what put a chill in my bones. It was his posture, the slump of his shoulders, the deference in his eyes when he finally found the courage to look at Negan.

I wasn't sure exactly what I expected coming here, but it wasn't this. He wasn't plotting and planning. He wasn't biding his time, waiting for the right time to strike. He had absolutely no intentions of fighting back. The only thing I saw on the face of our leader was acceptance that this was their new way of life. It made me sick. I wasn't suffering in the hell that was The Sanctuary so they could give up. I'd rather see us all die a brutal death than live cowering in this man's shadow. That wasn't living.

Movement behind him drew my attention, and I saw Deadpool and Carl trying to restrain my brother-in-law. He looked the exact opposite of Rick, and there was that feeling again, hope.

His outright fury coupled with zero desire to hide it made sense. He wasn't present that night. He hadn't seen what we'd seen. He didn't know the reality of watching your family brutally murdered while you were helpless to do a damn thing. It did things to you. For Rick, it broke his will to fight.

Negan casually set his stupid bat on my shoulder, clucking his tongue. "If you like her pretty little head attached to her body I wouldn't my man."

Merle stilled instantly, but his eyes never strayed from my face. Despite being on my knees I swayed precariously, in real danger of falling over. My brother-in-law's chest heaved, fist clenched tight at his side. Even from this distance I could tell he was on the verge of exploding.

"I told you, he's not here," Rick said, drawing Negan's attention.

"Yeah, you said that last time."

"You searched this place high and low. _He's not here_."

My eyes darted around the community. Most people had the good sense to stay inside, but a few were brave enough to step out. Aaron, Eric stood side-by-side, the two holding hands, eyes locked on our enemy. I didn't see Maggie, Beth or Glenn, and I was ashamed to admit I was glad. I didn't think I could handle seeing the young widow. Apocalypse Barbie stood at the back near a horrified Francine, face emotionless, save the obvious desire to end Negan's life brewing in her dark eyes.

"And not that I don't believe you," Negan continued, "But I don't believe you so...I'm going to conduct a little social experiment." He dug into the back of his jeans, pulling out a handgun. "D-Man, why don't you do the honors."

Two-Face took the gun, pressing it to the back of my head and cocking the trigger.

"Ya son of a bitch!"

Negan pointed the bat at Merle, and I held my breath. "Now I know you weren't at the initial lesson, but I trust your friends have let you borrow their notes."

Deadpool put a hand firmly in his chest, digging her heels into the ground in an effort to restrain him. "He understands. Please, don't."

"He doesn't _look_ like he understands." Merle's blue eyes found mine, and I silently pleaded with to stop. He mumbled a curse, lowering his chin and stepping back. " _Now that's more like it!_ "

He turned, winking at me, and I felt sick. He was using me to control them. As long as he had me they wouldn't retaliate.

"OK, back to the matter at hand. My missing shit." He paced in front of me, bat resting on his shoulder. "I had Daryl and now I don't. I have big plans for him, not to mention the Mrs., so I want him back." He pointedly looked at me, and I sent him a mental fuck you that made him smile. "Now the smart money says he'd come here...I mean, where the hell else could he go?"

"He's not here," Rick insisted, getting desperate.

Negan stopped pacing, staring him down for a beat before he said, "We'll see." He resumed his pacing with a psychotic cackle. "If he _is here_ I'm betting he won't let his pretty little wife take a slug to the back of the head." He stopped in front of me, grimacing at my appearance. "Granted, she normally looks a lot more fuckable, but vows don't include only loving the pussy when it smells fresh, am I right?"

Admittedly we had a pretty low key wedding, but I don't remember anything about pussy being discussed. Not in the vows anyway. My witty retort died on the tip of my tongue. If I smarted off to him he was liable to kill someone.

" _Please_ , he's not here!"

My eyes strayed to Rick. For all the time I'd known him he'd been a crappy liar. He even lacked the ability to lie to Maggie about her horrendous cooking, and even Nugget could do that. There was something deep within him that simply made him incapable of deceit, not without telegraphing it for the world to see. He wasn't lying now. Daryl wasn't here, but that wasn't what made my heart pound like a jackhammer in my chest.

It wasn't _what_ he was saying, but rather what he _wasn't_. He kept repeating the same phrase over-and-over. " _He's not here_." He said the same three words with the same inflection, like if he strayed even slightly from the narrative he'd give something away. He was being careful, deliberate, and that made my spidey senses go absolutely haywire.

"One!"

Several people screamed, but it was all background noise, my mind working overtime. He said he _wasn't here_. He never said he didn't know where he was, or even that he'd _never been here_ , only that he wasn't here, meaning _right now._

"He's not here! He's not! I swear!"

"Two!"

I knew it was possible I was grasping at straws, hearing what I wanted to hear, but something told me I was right in my assumption.

Merle was outright fighting to get to me now consequences be damned. Aaron and Eric had joined in the cause to hold him back, but even with four people they were fighting a losing battle. Nothing could stop an irate redneck.

"D, you know what to do on three, right?"

Two-Face pressed the barrel harder against the back of my head. "Yeah."

"Please, don't do this! I'm telling you..."

"He's not here?" Rick snapped his mouth closed, head shaking wildly, unable to stomach what was about to happen. "Three!"

Two-Face didn't hesitate, squeezing the trigger. Rick and Merle screamed, Carl stood there in shock, and a tear trailed down Deadpool face. The only thing I really heard were the internal parts of the gun moving, the tiny groans, and almost imperceptible squeaks that signaled a weapon on the verge of discharging, but when the hammer slammed home nothing happened. My family froze, breathing hard, trying to ascertain if this was a mistake or all part of his fucked up plan. Negan rocked back on his heels, grinning down at me.

"Goddamn, not even a flinch. You got beach ball sized lady nuts that's for _damn sure Spitfire_." He turned away, shrugging unapologetically at the crowd. "I guess you're right, he's not here."

Rick sagged in relief, hands braced on his knees while his eyes stayed locked on Negan. It looked like he was having a difficult time staying on his feet. That was a situation I could empathize with.

"Get her up and in the van," Negan ordered.

Two men grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet and dragging me away. I groaned in pain, desperately craning my neck so I could see my family for as long as possible. Negan was in Rick's face, his stupid bat under his chin as he no doubt threatened to annihilate Alexandria if he didn't produce my husband.

Merle stepped away from the group, and our eyes locked. He was back in control, watching me intently, eyes narrowed. He was trying to tell me something, but for the life of me I had no idea what. It wasn't until he casually ran his hand across his jaw, giving me a subtle head nod that my legs finally gave out. For the first time I was glad that the men had a hold of me or I'd have face planted for sure.

They didn't bother with the bag this time, the windows in the van blacked out with spray paint, and the need for a big reveal unnecessary now that we were headed back to The Sanctuary. They simply threw me in the back, my shoulder twinging in pain when it slid across the floor at an awkward angle.

Despite the pain and exhaustion I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. It quickly morphed into laughter followed by tears of relief. Even though I was beaten, starved, bloody, and bruised I felt the small ember of hope inside me flare to life. I'd needed a sign, a reason to hope again, and I'd gotten it. Negan brought me here intending to locate my husband while furthering his hold on Alexandria. What he'd done, unknowingly, was sow the seeds of his demise.

No one noticed the ring prominently displayed on Merle's finger. A ring almost identical to the one I still wore. No one knew what I knew, that it was my husband's wedding band.

* * *

 **I'm kind of nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this chapter? Other than Alex being imprisoned by The Saviors (which was originally Daryl) this is a complete departure from the show. With Daryl escaping it was necessary to change things up a bit, and this is the bi-product of that development.**

 **What do you think about Alex's "visitors"? Any guesses where Daryl is? What about Merle having his wedding ring?**

 **LOL, that's a lot of questions so I'll leave it at that. Hope you enjoyed it!**

 **FYI, the song Alex is singing is Heroes by Peter Gabriel.**


	75. Checkmate

**Checkmate**

I was getting used to being drug around so it was no surprise that when the vehicle shuttered to a stop I was unceremoniously pulled from the back, and shoved to the ground. Negan strolled forward, his stupid bat on his stupid shoulder, and an annoyingly stupid smile on his stupid face.

I needed sleep if for no other reason than so I could come up with better insults.

He took his time studying me, eyes examining my matted, blood stained hair, bruised, dirty face, and soiled, torn clothing. He sighed dramatically, but said nothing which irritated me. Could we move the torture along? I had places to be.

"So, who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?" I quipped, refusing to give an inch even if cost me my life.

The Saviors standing in the background took a collective step back, not wanting to get accidentally waylaid when he Hulked out, but sadly my insubordination didn't enrage the leader. It made him laugh.

Negan – 100. Alex – 0.

"I liked that movie." I grumbled in annoyance. Figured the psycho was a Star Wars fan. "D, take our esteemed guest to the doc. I want her cleaned up. I got big plans for her tonight."

Unless those plans involved a bullet to the forehead I wasn't interested.

Two-Face looked about as thrilled with babysitting me as I felt, grumbling under his breath the entire way. It was slow going with the chains still shackling me, but my asshole of a guard was nice enough to elbow me in the gut when I moved too slowly.

The door to the doctor's office was nondescript; the same color of faded green that unfortunately reminded me of baby shit. Inside was an entirely different story. Instead of bedroom furniture and bookcases there was an examination table, and shelves lined with medical supplies, lots of medical supplies. The tall guy wearing a white lab coat completed the ensemble. The Savior's doc was in his mid-50's if his thinning hair line and slightly graying hair was any indication. Conversely, he could be 20 for all I knew. Something told me living under Negan's reign probably aged you more like a dog than a person.

The woman sitting on the exam table was a different story. She was young, maybe in her late 20's, with long, straight brown hair that matched her dark eyes. She slid off the table as we stepped inside, and I couldn't stop my mouth from hanging open when I took in her attire. She was wearing a sundress, a skimpy, delicate, feminine sundress and wedge heels. How could she possibly hope to fight much less survive in such a ridiculous get-up?

Her cheeks flamed red and she ducked her head, tucking strands of hair behind her ears demurely, but I caught the way her gaze darted to the table behind her discreetly. When I saw the pregnancy test sitting there it all clicked into place. Not everyone survived using guns and knives.

"We were just finishing up," the doc said, glancing at the woman then at Two-Face. Was it just me or did he look uncomfortable?

"Hi D," the woman said, eyes never straying from my guard.

I glanced between the pair, eyebrows raised slightly. They knew each other. What's more, they were _something_ to each other. It was obvious by the radiating tension pulsating through the room, and the looks they shared, but tried desperately to conceal.

"Hey." His voice sounded different, strained, his stare never leaving the woman even as she turned her focus to me.

"You're her..."

I didn't know what the fuck that meant so I said nothing.

"Don't," Two-Face interrupted. "Talk to her."

He shoved me towards the table, and I sat down because why the hell not watch this drama unfold from a seated position. Two-Face hesitated when he finally saw the pregnancy test. He looked crestfallen, absolutely destroyed, and a big part of me was over-fucking-joyed. His nostrils flared, eyes sliding to the woman who was unable meet the accusation head on. If I didn't hate him with every fiber of my being I might feel a little bad for the guy. But I did, so fuck him.

"It's negative," she confirmed.

"Oh, well, maybe next time."

The doc cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. Me, I sat back and grinned from ear-to-ear. I'd learned more in the last two-minutes than in the entire time I'd been here. Clearly, I wasn't the only one being tortured; Two-Face was in the exact same boat. It gave me something to work with, not much, but it was more than I had two-minutes ago.

"Sorry, still getting used to being my own assistant." The doc cleared his throat, putting a towel over the test, 30-seconds too late.

"Sherry." The woman stopped by the door, refusing to turn around. "Negan wants her cleaned up. Wait for us."

She nodded mutely, tucking her hair behind her ears while backing into a corner. It was like she was hoping to disappear. Me too Sherry, me too.

"I'm Doctor Carson." Carson, as in Harlan's brother I supposed. Small world. "Anything I should be aware of, injuries, complaints?"

I held up my hands, pointedly looking at the handcuffs. "Yeah, these." My guard stepped forward, hand straying to the machete on his hip. "Oh lighten up Two-Face, I think we can all agree the doc isn't suicidal."

Doc Carson didn't move an inch, and Sherry hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself even smaller in her hidey hole. Two-Face glared at me, but he said nothing, he did nothing, because Negan left strict instructions not to break me. Ah, the beauty of communism.

The doctor cleared his throat, examining my cuts and bruises while leaving my restrains in place. He ignored me when I pointed out he'd have better access to my boo-boo's without them.

"Well, you have numerous lacerations, but none should require stitches and I don't think any bones are broken. Your contusions should heal on their own in a few days provided you don't do anything to aggravate them." Aggravate meaning get my ass kicked again. "I'm going to give you a shot of broad spectrum antibiotics just in case, and we'll need to keep an eye on the swelling in your hands. What happened?"

"Ask that asshole." The doc's eyes bulged while Two-Face drug his teeth across his lips slowly. "He gets his rocks off dislocating fingers. I'm as freaky as the next guy, but even I have limits."

Carson swallowed hard, taking my hands and gently probing each knuckles. "You set them?" Yeah, I had, and it wasn't the highlight of my day I'll tell you that. "Unfortunately, there isn't much to be done. Try to limit your use of them until the pain recedes."

I snorted, "Sure thing doc."

Not for the first time I questioned modern medicine. All that time, money, and energy spent on doctor school just so he could wear an obnoxiously white coat and tell me what I already knew...that I was fucked up.

He pulled up my sleeve, wiping my arm with alcohol before administering the shot. "Negan will take care of you...if you let him."

"There's a better chance of Oscar Pistorius catching athletes foot, but I appreciate the pep talk."

Sherry sucked in a ragged breath, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes zipping around the room like the man himself was going to magically appear. The doc just stood there frozen, the cap of the needle still perched between his lips.

"One of these days your mouth is going to get you killed," Two-Face warned, grabbing my arm and pushing me in Sherry's general direction.

"Tell me something I don' know."

I was pretty sure my first words were "fuck you", and they were directed at my sperm donor. Unsurprisingly he responded with the exact same comment as Two-Face. Showed what he knew. My "father" had been six-feet under for the better part of two decades, and here I was, still kicking.

I was escorted to a sparsely furnished room adjacent from the doc's office. There was a neatly made twin bed, a small bookshelf lined with books, a ratty Barcalounger, and an en-suite bathroom. Two-Face went to the closet, retrieving another pair of less filthy prisoner sweats, tossing them on the bed.

"Get her clean, and don't take your eyes off her." He scowled in my general direction eliciting a lazy yawn. He rolled his eyes, tossing her the key to my shackles. "I'll be outside."

The door clicked shut, and for good measure was locked from the outside. I turned to Sherry who cleared her throat, pointing at the bathroom.

"Everything you need is in there," she whispered, unlocking the handcuffs on my wrist and ankles. Once they were off I rubbed the raw skin, letting the chain fall to the ground. "Dwight said..." She stuttered over the name, eyes drifting to the floor. "He said you're Daryl's wife."

It all clicked into place. Sherry was one of the people Daryl met in the burned forest. She was Dwight's wife, or at least she had been at one time. It was obvious by the exchange in the doctor's office the two weren't together anymore.

"And you stole his shit." She swallowed hard at my tone, taking a step back. "Even after he saved your miserable lives."

"I...I...we shouldn't have," she admitted, defeat making her shoulders slump.

"Yeah, well, tell it to someone who cares."

They'd hurt the man I loved, and what was worse, his mercy haunted him. I striped off my grimy clothes, stepping into the shower. Sherry leaned against the door, head down, but I paid her no mind. If I thought about what she'd done I'd choke the life from her, and something told me that wouldn't go over well.

I sighed momentarily in bliss when the hot water hit my body, hissing a second later when the liquid cascaded over my open wounds. I knew I should worry about why Negan was allowing such a luxury. Hopefully it was so I didn't die of an infection, and not something more sinister.

I used the soap to scrub my body clean of dirt, blood, and grim. It wasn't until the second and third pass that the water finally ran clear, and I moved on to my hair. Washing it brought tears to my eyes, multiple blows to the head making it tender to the touch. Even the water hitting it in certain places was painful so when I was forced to work the numerous knots out of the long strands using conditioner I didn't even try to hide my pain.

Thirty minutes later I was as clean as I was going to get in a place that made my skin crawl in disgust. I turned off the water, stepping out and retrieving a towel hanging on the wall. I could see Sherry's reflection in the mirror. She hadn't moved from her spot against the door.

"We weren't always like this," she said as I gently combed through my hair. "Dwight and I...we were married, happy...then all this happened and we were just trying to stay alive. My sister, she has... _had_ a medical condition..."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Her eyes found mine in the mirror. "Because you still don't get it. Whatever they say, whatever _he_ _says_ , you have to do it. There's no other way."

"Is that what you did?" My accusation made her flinch, but I didn't care.

"You think this is it?" Her limps trembled as she spoke. "Whatever he's done to you...there's more. There's always more."

She said it like it was something I didn't already know, like this was my first trip to Psychoville. I hated to break it to her, but this place, Negan, torture, prison, abuse, it was an old friend. I knew what came next, and I was prepared, even for death.

I set the comb down, turning to face her. "I may be the one in handcuffs, but you're the one in prison."

Her eyes flared to life. "You think you're special? That you can survive this? You have no idea what this place can do to you... _what_ _he can do to you._ "

"That's where you're wrong." Not only did I know exactly what this place _and_ what would happen, I'd been through it before. "You're not beholden to him. You owe him _nothing_ , not your body, and certainly not your soul."

She wiped her nose, shaking her head. "Thinking like that is a good way to end up dead."

"Maybe," I shrugged, "But at some point you have to ask yourself what you can live with, and what you can die without."

Neither of us spoke while I finished dressing. I was too busy trying to anticipate Negan's next move, and Sherry was too busy hating herself. She knocked twice on the door, and Two-Face opened it immediately, eyes searching the room until they landed on me.

"All done," she announced, fake happiness dripping from her words.

"See ya."

The dismissal made Sherry bristle, but she said nothing because there was nothing to say. She'd sacrificed herself, her marriage, and the cost was a one way ticket into a madman's harem. My best guess was she did it for the sister who she ultimately couldn't save. Maybe even for the disfigured man who used to be her husband. It was the only explanation that made sense. No one around here looked as cared for and ridiculous as she did so it stood to reason it was Negan's doing. Something told me he took _extra special care_ of his wives. Gag.

Two-Face led me down a maze of hallways. It felt like he was taking the long way, deliberately trying to disorient me. I wanted to tell him he was wasting his time. I wanted to memorize the route to Negan's bedroom like I wanted herpes.

We passed a room with the door wide open, a stack of monitors lining the wall that showed various parts of The Sanctuary. Each monitor was labeled with tape, describing what part of the compound the camera captured. A man sat at the desk, talking into a walkie talkie, coordinating guard shifts and documenting any significant information relayed to him by those patrolling. This was some serious tech for the end of the world. They weren't using electricity just for the convenience it provided. It confirmed what I already knew, The Saviors were smart and well-equipped.

Two-Face put a rough hand in my back, pushing me passed the control room. We rounded another turn, and came face-to-face with a huge man holding a shotgun outside a door.

"You're late," he announced, stepping aside so he could open the door.

"You saw her. She was a mess."

Please, continue to talk about me like I wasn't standing here.

The man grunted, ushering us inside. The room was easily three times the size of any other I'd been in, and I suppressed a laugh. Compensating for something?

It was lavishly decorated in a muted color palette of grays and blacks. Two plush couches sat across from each other, a rug and table between them. Several matching lamps were scattered around the room, illuminating the dungeon. There was an enormous, king-sized, four poster bed in the corner that made me want to run for the hills.

Negan turned when we entered, eyes traveling from me to the bed and back again, a knowing smirk on his smug face. I literally just threw up in my mouth.

"Ah, the guest of honor."

He offered me a deranged smile. I had no idea how his wives stomached his bullshit. I'd been here a grand total of 10-seconds, and I already wanted to hurl myself out a window.

I walked forward slowly, eyes dragging over every sordid detail. Apparently I was moving too slow so for the big guy. He put a hand in the small of my back, speeding up the process.

I stumbled next to a desk, and was thankful I wasn't back in chains. My hands shot forward in an effort to stop my fall, pushing pens and pencils off the desk while Negan sighed dramatically. I glanced down, narrowing my eyes in calculation. There was a map spread out with locations circled in red, arrows pointing in different directions with times, and even little notes scribbled in the margins. It was a map of Virginia and the surrounding areas.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," Negan drawled making the big guy flinch. "Is that how we treat guests?" Uh, yeah, in my experience it was exactly how they treated "guests". "Please Spitfire, have a seat."

He waved a hand at the couch opposite him, and it was then I noticed the spread of food on the coffee table. It looked like steak, roasted potatoes, and even steaming hot gravy. The smell alone made my mouth salivated uncontrollably.

"Let's go," the big guy barked.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. "Touch me again, and you'll regret it."

He smiled, raising his eyebrows while slowly, deliberately reaching for me. The second his hand grabbed the front of my sweatshirt I lunged back, dislodging his hold. Simultaneously I grabbed his outstretched arm with my left hand, and looped my fingers around the inside of his shirt collar with my right. I took a small step back, pulling own on his collar while twisting his arm painfully. He stumbled forward, his forehead clipping the edge of the desk as he fell. He yelped in pain, hands covering the wide, bloody gash above his eyebrow. Two-Face cursed loudly, stepping forward with a gun drawn, but Negan put a hand up, stopping him.

"No, no..." He shook a single finger from side-to-side, walking forward. "To be fair, she did warn the man." He sighed heavily, eyeing the man bleeding all over his Den of Iniquity. "Wait outside, and for god's sake, get cleaned up." He cringed when the man stood, blood oozing down his face. " _God damn_...I think Lucille might be a bit jealous."

The mention of his stupid bat got their asses into gear, the two of them desperate to get the hell out of the room. Two-Face groaned under the heavier man's weight, but was able to half carry, half drag him out. The door clicked closed, and Negan spun around, arms wide.

"Alone at last." Eww. That wasn't creepy or anything. "Relax, I already told you, I don't condone rape." He waggled his eyebrows in what I imagined he believed was a sexy manner. "I don't need to rape someone to get a little pussy Spitfire. Those kitties come willingly."

Keep telling yourself that. Forcing someone wasn't always achieved by physical measures. Sherry wasn't with him by choice. She'd done it in a vain effort to spare those she loved. She may not fight him off, but she didn't want him. Anytime someone took your will, your choice, it was rape, plain and simple.

"Have a seat. We need to talk."

I sat on the couch, grateful he chose the one opposite, the two of us feeling the other out. This was a chess match, and it was one I couldn't afford to lose.

"Hungry?"

"Step up from dog food."

He smiled, "Life's all about choice. One choice leads to eating canned shit, and the other." He waved his hand over the food on the table. "Leads to this."

"You really think I'm going to be swayed by steak and potatoes?" That was offensive.

"No, I don't." He picked up a fork, pausing when I didn't follow suit. "Something wrong?"

I leaned forward, sniffing the meat. It may look like cow, but that didn't mean it _was_ _cow_. I didn't give a rat's ass how hungry I was. I wasn't eating _anything_ until I was sure it wasn't a person.

"It's not poisoned." As if to prove his point he plopped a piece of meat in his mouth, moaning while he chewed.

"It's not poison I'm worried about."

He laughed, spearing a potato. "I'd eat while you have the chance. Trust me, you're gonna need your strength."

He was right. I couldn't afford to pass up on such substantial nutrition just to prove a point, and I was as certain as I could be this wasn't someone's leg. My body needed fuel so I picked up a fork and dug in. I told myself to eat slowly or I'd risk getting sick, but in seconds the plate was clean and my stomach felt queasy.

"Good?"

I picked some pepper from my teeth with a broken fingernail. "Slightly overcooked."

He sat back holding a wine glass, swishing the red liquid around like a total douche. I opted for water. Wine made me reckless, and I couldn't afford to be reckless right now. It was all I could do not to pick up my steak knife and plunge it into his eye. If I drank I'd be using his blood to finger paint on the walls before the night was over.

"So...what do you do for fun?"

"Not this."

He sipped the wine casually, trying to cover his irritation, but I had years of practice spotting people's tells. You didn't live a life like mine and not know exactly how much and to what extent you were pissing someone off. The way the lines around his eyes crinkled, and the tightness along his jawline told me all I needed to know.

"You know, people don't talk to me like that," he mused.

Being crazy was a like being pregnant. You could only hide it for so long, and this guy was well into his third trimester. I was on dangerous ground.

"Not to your face at least."

He sighed, taking another long sip. "You and I are a lot alike Spitfire." Oh. Fuck. No. We. Were. Not. "We have a... _connection_."

My cheeks puffed out, and I struggled to keep the potatoes from resurfacing all over his suede couch.

"Damn, people say I'm riding the crazy train, _but you_ , you are driving that motherfucker."

In the blink of an eye his playful demeanor evaporated. I could tell by the vein pulsating in his forehead he was close to exploding. The thought made me giddy. I didn't have a lot of cards to play, but pushing his buttons, forcing him to lose his composure, was one of them. Cowering to men like this was a no-no. Any weakness, perceived or imagined, would result in death.

"How about we cut the bullshit, and get down to business?"

"Thank god," I replied.

Anything that got me out of this room, and back in my shithole of a cell was fine by me. His answering smile was strained, and I was barely able to contain my amusement.

"I'm trying to build something here, something revolutionary, something permanent. A paradise if you will. _You_...are a direct threat to that dream." Good, then at least one of us was doing our job. "Now, I liked your husband. He had balls, and we could use some big, hairy sacks around here. I had plans for him, but you fucked that up."

"I'm sorry," I lied.

"You do understand if you keep mouthing-the-fuck-off I will fucking kill you, right?"

"Oh yeah."

"So, you just don't care?" he laughed, watching me carefully.

"At first I cared a little bit, but then I was like, nah, fuck you."

His eyes narrowed menacingly. "Clearly you're too stupid to give a shit about your own life, but maybe, _just maybe,_ you give a shit about someone else?" He left the question hanging in the air like we both didn't know exactly what he was talking about. He pointed at the ring on my left hand with a smirk. "What about Daryl? Care about him?"

"What's your point?"

"If he's still alive I'll find him, eventually."

"Let me know how that works out," I replied defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"But that's not the real issue now is it? The real issue is if he's dead then he's not much use now is he?"

Daryl wasn't dead. I knew it. So did Negan. It was why he was so pissed off. Not only did his prize prisoner escape, but he couldn't find him.

Thinking about Daryl made me want to cry. I missed him with an intensity that made it difficult to think, to breathe, to survive this place much less this man. Now that I knew he was out there I wanted nothing more than to find him. Negan could do whatever he wanted to me, and it wouldn't even begin to touch the pain of being separated from him.

Just like every other time he crossed my mind I forced myself not to go there. I couldn't, not yet, not until I was out of here. I refused to let Negan pollute that part of me.

"So now I'm left with you." When I refocused on his face his lips were pursed in aggravation. "You also possesses the _I don't give a fuck_ attitude which, coincidentally, kind of turns me on. I almost get a hard on thinking about someone like you as my right hand man." That wasn't saying much. I bet he got a hard on when someone gave him a glass of water. "Unfortunately...you are the _ass pain to end all ass pains_."

Damn straight.

"And..." He paused in that ridiculously over-dramatic way of his, "You are one hard nut to crack." He leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs. "But everyone cracks...eventually."

I snorted, "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

If he was hoping to break me with a scary bedtime story he was wasting his time. He may as well throw me back in the hole, and wait for me to die. I wasn't even going to bend so he could forget breaking.

He came at me so quick it surprised me. One second he was sitting on the couch, and the next his hands were on either side of my head, his body boxing me in, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. Instinctively I leaned back, desperate to put distance between us.

"This only ends three ways Spitfire." He brushed his knuckles down the side of my face, biting his lip. " _Damn_ _you are hot as hell_." He stuck his nose in my hair, inhaling deep, and I almost kneed him in the balls. "Fuck me, you smell good. You're the kind of woman who could make a man forget what's important."

I turned my head away, his proximity revolting. Having him this close, his hands touching me intimately, it made me sick. It was a struggle to keep myself from lashing out. He had limits, and if I pushed him too far I might not live to see myself freed from this place.

He pushed off the couch, sinking down next to me with an arm draped casually on the back of the couch, shaking his head to clear the lust clouding his judgement.

"Back to the matter at hand, option one, I kill you and you can work for me on a spike."

Pass.

"Option two, I let you out of your cell and you work for points, but you're gonna wish you were dead."

Pass.

"Option three, you work for me and live like a queen." He grinned. I scowled. "The choice seems pretty obvious."

Pass.

"If there an option four?"

He ground his teeth together, reaching for his stupid bat while I simply stared at him.

"I can see you need some more time to reflect." He leaned back, watching me. We both knew where I'd be doing my "reflecting". "One way or the other I control you...I _own you_ Spitfire. The only one who doesn't understand that is you."

Possession _was_ nine-tenths of the law, but I wasn't furniture. He may have me imprisoned, but he didn't own me.

"Tell you what, I'm going to give you a chance to redeem yourself since you ruined our lovely evening. If you tell me about yourself I'll tell D to take it easy on you tonight."

He retrieved his wine glass, crossing his legs and leaning back, waiting patiently. Bullshit. He would do no such thing, and I wasn't going to tell him shit.

"I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain. I'm not much into health food, but I'm into champagne. Last, but certainly not least, I hope you die in your sleep."

He clucked his tongue, shaking a finger like I was a petulant child. "Something tells me if I invited you into my bed I'd end up in an early grave."

"You have no idea." He'd be dead before his head hit the pillow.

"I know it was you who wiped the satellite compound off the map." He licked his lips. He was enjoying this, verbally sparing, both of us trying to out-maneuver the other. Nasty. "I had 28 of my best people there."

"Twenty-four," I corrected, "And if those were your best people then the chances of you dying in your sleep just went up ten-fold."

His nostrils flared, and I mentally patted myself on the back. "Judging by looks alone I'd guess your only redeeming quality was the reverse cowgirl." I rolled my eyes. The reverse cowgirl hurt my bad knee. "And while that move's got the potential to kill a man...it doesn't kill 28."

"Twenty-four." His upper lip curled in fury, and I grinned. Pissing this guy off was _#lifegoals_. "I'm also fairly dangerous when it comes to the waterfall." Just ask Katniss.

"There are over seven trillion nerves in the human body, and you have succeeded in getting on _every-single-goddamn-one_." I got that a lot. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I want to know how you did it. I want to know how one smartass, red-headed bitch killed 28..." I raised my eyebrows mockingly, and he ground his teeth together. "Of my men."

He didn't know I hadn't done it alone which meant he didn't know about Merle. It wasn't much, but it made me feel slightly better. My good looks may be the only thing keeping my heart beating, but my brother-in-law wouldn't be so lucky. If Negan found out he was involved he'd kill him in a heartbeat.

"What's the point of being alive it you don't do something remarkable?" I grinned.

He surged to his feet, bat in his hand, face twisted in anger. He reared back and swung, the deadly weapon arching towards my head. At the last possible second he stopped, the wind from the swing ruffling my hair. I didn't move a muscle or bat an eyelash. My lack of reaction surprised him so much he was a second too late hiding it.

"Holy shit on a _motherfucking_ _shingle_...you know, until a second ago my fantasies focused solely on your smart mouth wrapped around my huge cock, but your balls are a thing of beauty."

I was going to consider that a compliment and move on.

He lowered the bat, rolling his shoulders as he sat back down. He took his time getting comfortable, and it was obvious he'd come to some kind of conclusion. In the last few seconds the stakes had been raised. We were both all in. The only question left unanswered was now what?

"Let's play a game, shall we? You tell me who you really are, and I won't load up my people, drive back to Alexandria, and rip out my favorite budding serial killers other eye. How's that for option four?"

Honestly, it kind of sucked.

I dropped my head, chest heaving. He wasn't bluffing. Men like Negan didn't bluff. The ruled with an iron fist supplemented with fear and intimidation for anyone stupid enough to step out of line. Idly threats weren't part of their vocabulary.

"I like seeing this side of you," he confessed, sipping his wine. He grabbed a few strands of hair, rubbing them between his fingers. "Vulnerable, submissive...completely at my mercy."

My mind was racing. It was obvious he suspected I hadn't come by my skills because dead people decided to start walking around. If I told him the whole sordid story from start to finish I had no idea what he'd do. Whoever he thought I was, whatever he thought I could do, it was nothing compared to the truth.

Knowledge was power. Every inch I conceded was a way for him to dig his claws further in. The more he knew the more he could manipulate, me, my family, everyone. Alexandria might not know it yet, but we were already at war with The Saviors, and I was on the front lines.

While I was fairly certain he wasn't bluffing, but my gut told me he wouldn't kill Carl. Common sense would eventually override his anger, probably. Alexandria had submitted to his rule, agreed to his terms. If he walked in and killed Rick's son it would incite a riot, and inspire a revolution. It was a risk I was willing to bet he wouldn't take. He couldn't afford to lose his hold on them.

Or I was completely wrong, and it might cost Carl his life.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock."

I swallowed hard, licking my dry lips. "I...I..."

"You...what? Speak up Spitfire."

I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. Tears blurred my vision, and I blinked rapidly, unable to stop them from falling. His eyes sparkled, enjoying the victory I was about to hand him.

"I'll tell you just...please...promise me you won't hurt him."

He covered his mouth with a hand. His entire demeanor practically screamed victory. He even puffed out his chest a little. He tapped a single finger against his lips, pretending to consider my plea.

"OK, you got me, I promise. Now go on." His smile was all teeth, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat, hands trembling.

"I...I...I kept the right ones out..." I took a deep breath, unable to look him in the eyes, but I could feel his excitement. My submission was like foreplay to him. "And let the wrong ones in. I...I had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sins."

My voice broke, and I sucked in a raged breath, curling my hands in my lap in a futile effort to wrangle my breakdown. He leaned closer, loving my misery, drawn to my pain.

"There were...times in my life...when I was going insane." More tears fell, racing down my cheek, but I didn't move, the words spilling from my lips on autopilot. "Trying to walk though...the...pain."

I was sobbing now, not even trying to obscure my struggle. Negan's breathing shuttered, and a chill raced down my spine. I had him enthralled, and it made me feel disgusting.

"But then...but then, I lost my grip, and I hit the floor. I thought...I thought I could leave, _but I couldn't_...I couldn't get out the door."

I turned my head to face him, licking my dry lips, watching a crease form in his forehead. His mouth formed an O shape, eyes darting back-and-forth as his brain finally processed my words.

"I was so sick and tired, of living a lie. I just wished that I..."

"Would die," he finished, face transforming into something sinister so quickly it was freaky.

I winked at him, loving every second of his shock as I belted out the lyrics at the top of my lungs, _"It's amazing! With the blink of an eye you finally see the light!"_

His large hand wrapped around my throat, cutting off my airway. He yanked me off the couch, face twisted in fury. A second later my back collided with the wall, and despite the bruises I knew would be there in the morning I choked out a laugh.

"What...you don't...like Aerosmith?" I half-laughed, half-coughed, struggling to breathe around the fingers squeezing my throat.

"Motherfucker!" he screamed, pulling me back only to slam me into the wall again. "Motherfucker!"

Two-Face exploded into the room, weapon ready. Negan pulled me off the wall, throwing me to the ground with a loud curse. I rolled to a stop, coughing to clear my throat, enjoying every second of his temper tantrum.

The moment he saw the smile on my face he reared back, kicking me in the gut. Even though I knew it was coming the blow was still a shock to my system. His foot connected with my body like a freight train, and I gasped for air, but oxygen eluded me. My head swam as my organs bowed and shifted, going from a pancake like mass to their original life-saving shape far too slowly for my linking. The crushing kick tossed me a few feet across the floor. I rolled to a stop on my side a split-second before I spewed chunks of steak and potato on his rug.

"Get this bitch the fuck out of here! I want her back in the goddamn hole now!" he roared.

Two-Face recovered from his shock far quicker than I did, hauling me upright. He was forced to holster his weapon, and use both hands to keep me from collapsing. He wanted out of this room before Negan's anger was redirected at him, or more accurately his head. He drug me out and into the hallway where I was finally able to take a full breath, my lungs expanding and contracting painfully.

I'd won the battle, but this war was far from over. Even though I knew if I continued I'd accomplish nothing than ensuring my beating tonight was more severe than normal I sucked in as much air as my fragile lungs would allow, singing the next verse as loud as I could.

 _"Oooh, oooh, it's amazing!"_

Two-Face cursed, picking up the pace. We rounded the corner, heading back to my cell, and I smiled because the last thing I heard was Negan's enraged scream, and it was music to my ears.

"Motherfucker!"

* * *

 **We're seeing a little of the Alex we all know and love coming back, but she's not out of the woods yet.**

 **What do you guys think of Alex and Negan's interactions? I'm really trying to nail down Negan's mannerisms, way of speaking and reacting, but I'm not sure if I've done it.**

 **Until next time...**


	76. The Great Escape

**The Great Escape**

 _"He's not going to stop Boo-Boo. You have to get out of here before he kills you or someone else."_

I didn't bother looking at T, my attention fixed on the Polaroid that haunted my dreams. I'd yet to see daylight since being thrown back in my cell, but Two-Face was nice enough to keep me updated on the comings and goings of the outside world.

He was downright giddy while explaining in graphic detail the attack on Hilltop. I could still hear his laughter as he detailed how they jerry-rigged a car, blocking all the windows and doors so Hilltop would be unable to stop the loud music drawing walkers through their open gates.

That wasn't even the worst news I'd heard in the last 24-hours. Less than 20-minutes ago when my dog-food was tossed on the floor Two-Face informed me Carl was here, at The Sanctuary. The chills that broke out on my skin listening to him explain how the young man I loved was currently with Negan had nothing to do with the frigid temperature in my cell. Thinking about Carl being here, at the mercy of a madman, made me want to claw my way out with my bare hands which was exactly why he told me. Negan's lead minion had been unable to gain my compliance so instead he took pleasure in my helplessness.

There was no way for me to know if he was telling the truth about any of it, and in reality, it made little difference. Perception _was_ reality, and in my reality The Saviors had attacked Hilltop and Carl was somewhere in this hellhole. It didn't matter if it was a lie. Every story, every threat, every second that ticked by in this pit of darkness threatened to weaken my resolve.

 _"The devils in the details," T sighed, "You know it's all true. After what happened the other night he's lashing out, at you and your people. He's going to hurt you any way he can."_

It didn't take long for my "guests" to reappear once I was locked up. My mind needed an escape even if my body couldn't find one. Unfortunately, my mind's idea of escape leaned more towards insanity which was disconcerting. Throughout my life many people had told me I was crazy, insane, and more than a tad mentally unstable. Well, I had news for them, I was all those things and a hell of a lot more it seemed. I always was an overachiever.

" _Will you please put that down?"_ T reached for the photo, and even though he wasn't here, wasn't real, and therefore couldn't take it from me, I leaned away. _"It's not your fault Boo-Boo_."

"That's not true and you know it," I sniffled, setting the picture careful on the ground next to me.

" _No, I don't, and neither do you."_

I squeezed my eyes closed. "Oh my god, you're more annoying now than you were when you were alive."

" _Well, I'm a figment of your imagination so that's on you."_

I groaned, leaning my head against the wall. I'd expected retribution for my stunt at dinner, but I thought it would come in the form of manual labor and beatings. The Saviors were nice enough to make sure I received the beatings, but the manual labor never materialized. My best guess was Negan knew being trapped in here was far worse than being forced to work as walker bait. He may be an asshole, but he was an intuitive asshole.

" _I thought you had a thing about small spaces?" T asked, gazing around the cell with a_ _grimace_.

My head lolled to the side, eyes opening slightly. "As you can see I've worked that out."

He snorted, humming a song I couldn't quite place. It sounded like one my grandmother used to sing. The ghosts were getting mixed up in my head. T was humming a song my grandmother sang when I was a little girl, one he couldn't possibly know. Man, the amount of therapy I was going to need when this was over was staggering.

" _How many wives does he have?"_

"Why do you want to know?"

 _He shrugged, "Just curious."_

Did that mean I was curious? If so, why? Holy crap, being crazy was exhausting.

"Two, three, four, who cares?" I answered.

" _He wants you."_

I knew Negan was attracted to me. I'd seen it in his eyes, and felt it in his touch. It made me nauseous, but it was the only thing keeping me alive at the moment. He wanted me as a wife, a lover, a soldier, _a something._ I was a puzzle he desperately wanted to unlock, and until he did, one way or another, he wouldn't kill me. Unless I _really_ pissed him off.

 _"It's time to go."_ I didn't respond because there was nothing to say. " _He's going to push you too far, and when he does you'll do something stupid, and he will kill you. You have to get out of here...now."_

I glared at my dead friend. "You make it sound like I've got the keys in my fucking pocket." I stood, swaying on my feet slightly, grabbing my filthy sweat pants in order to show him there were no pockets much less keys, "What do you want from me?! I'm doing the best I can!"

T's body shimmered, a sad smile on his face. He faded slowly until he was gone, and I was alone. Tears rolled down my face as I backed up until I was against the wall, feet sliding out from under me. Once my ass hit the floor I pulled my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I sobbed.

I cried for Ariel.

I cried for Noah.

I cried for Beth.

I cried for Haley, T, Hershel, Lori, and the list went on and on.

I cried for all we'd lost.

I cried for what we still stood to lose.

I had no idea how long I cried, but I knew I needed to stop. Grief wouldn't help me, not in this place. If I let myself dwell on everything I couldn't change it was over. Perception was reality, and my reality was there was only here and now. What happened was history, and much as I might want to, I couldn't go back. The only way out of this was to move forward.

My finger played absently with my wedding band, and I felt my heart rate slow down gradually. For the life of me I had no idea why he let me keep it, probably to further torture me, but it had the opposite effect. It made me feel closer to him. When I needed a reason to keep going my fingers inevitably strayed to the band he'd spend months crafting. It was my reason to keep breathing, keep fighting, keep hoping.

Footsteps in the hallway made my ears perk up, and I scrubbed my dirt stained hands on my dirt stained face. I could hear faint, almost hesitant steps that started then stopped at odd intervals. It wasn't Two-Face. He didn't tip-toe and sneak around. He stomped like an angry elephant because he hated his life, and had no way to show it other than pathetic temper tantrums when no one was looking.

The only light in the room came from the small crack under the door. It was less than in inch, hardly enough to illuminate more than a few centimeters, but I squinted in disbelief when a piece of paper was pushed under it. I reached for it slowly, suspicion and adrenaline fueling my weakened, battered body. The crumpled note had the words, _Go Now_ , written in cursive on one side. There was a key tapped to the other.

My breathing was coming in quick, shallow pants as I tried to focus, to see all the angles. Who would risk their life to help me? The answer was no one. I couldn't think of a single person which meant this was likely a trick, a test, but even if it was could I afford to pass up a chance at freedom?

My only other option for breaking out of here was overpowering Two-Face when he came to deliver a meal. Every day that went by without sufficient food, water, or medical care made that possibility less and less likely. In my current state I'd have a hard time overpowering Nugget, and she couldn't walk without falling down.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down and work the problem. The simple fact of the matter was it didn't matter if this was a trick. This was a way out, and setup or not it was a risk I had to take. This had to end, one way or another.

Slowly I scooted towards the door, using the key to unlock it. I swallowed hard when the lock disengaged, cracking it open slowly. There wasn't anyone waiting to pounce so I stepped outside, looking up-and-down the hallway. There was no one around. If this was an ambush they were doing a piss poor job.

The general layout of the facility was imprinted in my mind. It might not appear like I was paying attention while I was drug from one corner of The Sanctuary to the other, but there wasn't a detail that escaped my notice. Knowledge was power, and they'd given me everything I needed to save myself.

Without shoes it was easy to quietly run down the hall, pausing at the turns to make sure the coast was clear before proceeding. I took the first left, the second right then the first left, and I was back outside the control room. I was entirely too close to Negan's bedroom for my liking, but this was my best chance of getting out of here alive.

Just like before the door was slightly ajar, a single man sitting in front of rows of TVs. He looked like he was asleep, shoulders slumped forward, a buzz-like snore reverberating inside the room with every exhale. I stepped into the room, silently closing the door while looking around for a weapon. The only option was a mop with a wooden handle propped up in the corner. I crossed the room, grabbing the handle and swinging it as hard as I could at his head.

The wooden handle shattered on impact, the man sagging forward until he came to a rest on the desk. Blood gushed from a gaping wound on the side of his head, but I paid it no mind. Pulling a knife from his waist I sank the blade into his temple. My eyes were already scanning the multiple monitors as I grabbed his collar, pulling him to the side until his body crashed to the floor.

The monitors showed every area of the compound. There were people everywhere, going about their day-to-day affairs and I felt despair pooling in my stomach. One thing was abundantly clear. There were far too many people for me to sneak out unseen. What I needed was a diversion.

Problem two were my clothes. I was dressed in garb that clearly indicated I was an outsider, a hostage, even to those who'd never laid eyes on me. I glanced at the dead man on the floor and shrugged, I could make it work.

It took some maneuvering, and a lot of cringing, but I was able to get the man's shirt, jacket, pants, and boots off. We were close to the same height, but he was quite a bid wider than me. Nothing a belt and some rolled up sleeves couldn't fix. It was sad that even wearing a dead man's blood stained clothes I looked a hell of a lot better than I did five-minutes ago.

I snatched the bloody hat off his head, tucking my long, red hair into the jacket then zipping it up as far as it would go. Once that was done I flipped the collar up and slid the baseball cap on my head, pulling it down low. Hopefully the jacked combined with the hat would be enough to conceal my vibrant red hair. He didn't have a gun, but he did have a David Bowie style hunting knife I attached around my waist.

I had clothes. I had a weapon. Now I needed a diversion.

I studied the screens, looking for patterns or a viable way out, but I knew I didn't have the time to sit here and wait. Someone was going to realize I was missing, and soon. I yanked open the drawers on either side of the desk, rifling through them, looking for anything I could use.

"Son of a bitch."

In the top drawer, hidden under a notebook was Glenn's iPod and charging cables he'd been toting around since Atlanta. I grinned, eyes darting back to the screens, a smirk on my face. I pulled the ancient iPod out, flipping it over in my hand while my eyes darted wildly around the room. There was an antique microphone perched on the edge of the desk, cables spliced and taped back together in an effort to make dissimilar electrical components fit together.

Something tickled the back of my mind, something I thought I'd seen, and I leaned closer to the row of screen, searching. I laughed when I saw them, nodding in anticipation. Negan had more tech than anyone I'd come across since the world ended, including speakers he'd put up around the outside of The Sanctuary.

"OK, OK, I can do this. I can do this."

As quickly and carefully as I could I used the knife to strip casing off the charging cable of Glenn's iPod. Once that was done I hastily disconnected the wires from the microphone, and I said a silent thank you the iPod still had some juice. My fingers brushed the live wires, a bright, white spark burning the tip of my finger.

"Ouch, shit," I cursed, shoving the finger in my mouth.

An electrician I was not, but I had a basic understanding of what I needed to do. Knowing a little bit about a wide variety of subjects was imperative to survival in my previous occupation, and the skills had served me well in the apocalypse. I knew how to hot wire all types of cars, hack computers, bring down security systems, and diffuse explosives, all in a matter of minutes. If The Saviors could jerry-rig a car I could jerry-rig an iPod that probably predated Christ.

I twisted the wires together, connecting the iPod to the speaker system. I grinned, selecting a song I hoped would royally piss off Negan which was really just icing on the cake at this point. I made a mental note to hug Glenn the next time I saw him. Who knew he was a closet gangsta?

My hands shook as I watched the monitors, cradling the iPod against my chest. This was crazy, like crazier than usual which meant it was downright suicidal. If I didn't pull this off he would kill me for sure. Then he would find whoever helped me and kill them too. Not that I particularly cared about their life, but the fact they'd helped me showed the cracks in his operation. He was vulnerable, and he didn't even know it. It was information I desperately needed to pass on. This could be how we won.

There was a clipboard on the desk that designated walkie talkie channels for each guard shift covering the exits and vitals parts of the compound. Committing as many as I could to memory I clipped a walkie talkie to my belt and went to the door, peeking outside. Closing my eyes I fingered my wedding band, taking a deep breath.

"I'm coming Legolas."

I hit play, tossing the iPod on the desk, and darting out of the room. For a few steps it was quiet. I couldn't hear anything except my pounding heart and my footsteps as I ran, but then I heard it, music blasting out of the speakers.

 **This is survival of the fittest**

 **This is do or die**

 **This is the winner takes it all**

 **So, take it all, a-all, a-all, a-all**

The walkie talkie on my belt exploded with chatter, everyone trying to figure out what was happening and where. There were shouts and screams echoing in the hallway too. I heard people running, followed closely by doors slamming shut as Saviors flooded the streets. I plucked the walkie talkie from my belt, turning it to channel 3.

"We need reinforcements at the front gate!" I screamed, infusing my voice with fake desperation, "We're under attack. I repeat, we're..."

I let go of the talk button, leaving the rest of the sentence incomplete. Quickly I switched to channel 5, "Negan wants everyone to the front now! Hurry, they're breaking through!"

I repeated the process with every channel, sending The Saviors on a wild goose chase to thwart an attack that wasn't happening. I paused outside an exterior door with a grin, listening to shouting, weapons being discharged, and Eminem rapping.

 **This is survival of the fittest**

 **This is do or die**

 **This is the winner takes it all**

 **So, take it all, a-all, a-all, a-all**

Outside was utter pandemonium, people running in every direction, screaming, crying, and shooting at absolutely nothing. I kept my head down, skirting the mayhem, striding purposefully for the back gate. A group of men barreled around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of me. I didn't hesitate, pointing in the opposite direction.

"What the hell are you doing standing around?! Move it or I'll make sure Negan knows exactly who's responsible for letting those assholes in here!"

Their faces paled, fear of a madman clouding their judgment as they sprinted past me without a backwards glance. The base pumping through the speakers was so deep it made my bones rattle, and made The Saviors jumpy and disorganized. I passed a line of men firing into the woods, accomplishing nothing except wasting ammo and attracting walkers. In their panic I slipped by completely unnoticed.

Sweat was pouring down my face by the time I reached the back gate. Thankfully my misdirection worked, and the guard was long gone. I used a metal pole to bend the chains until it snapped off just like I had during our failed escape attempt. As soon as I swung one side of the gate open a huge truck barrelled through the front gate, tires squealing as it skidded to a stop, the driver laying on the horn. Even above the blaring music, gunfire, and hysterical shouts I heard it, and I turned around slowly. I knew who was behind the wheel long before I saw him.

Negan flung the door open, standing on the running board, eyes honed in on me. "Spitfire!"

For a second there was no one but the two of us. I didn't hear the music or the mayhem surrounding me. I only saw him, and his burning desire to not let me go, to beat me, to kill me. For the first time since he barged into our lives he didn't have the upper hand, and it was driving him insane. Welcome to my world asshole.

I grinned, holding up my hand and flipping him off. His face twisted into something menacing, devoid of any trace of humanity. I should have felt scared, terrified even, but instead a laugh slipped from lips. He pounded a fist on the top of the truck in fury. I threw him a wink then turned and ran. I could barely hear his outraged roars over the music in the background.

 **This is survival of the fittest**

 **This is do or die**

 **This is the winner takes it all**

 **So, take it all, a-all, a-all, a-all**

I had no direction in mind as I ran, only that I needed to put as much distance as possible between myself and The Sanctuary. They were following. I could hear them behind me, shouting, trying to get organized, but I didn't look back, didn't stop, didn't slow. My lungs ached, and my legs burned, but I ran like my life depended on it because it did.

My feet slipped as I sprinted up a hill, the leaves and pine needles piled on the ground difficult to navigate in my haste and current state. I turned right at the top, intending to head deeper into the forest where I stood a better chance of losing them, but a bullet snapped into a tree trunk, driving me back.

I whirled to my left about to make a break for it, but my feet slipped out from under me, sending me sliding down the sharp embankment. Sticks scratched against my skin and rocks battered my already bruised body as I tumbled down, faster and faster. The only good news about my coordination failing me yet again was I was far faster sliding like I was on a Slip 'N Slide than running.

The second my body came to a painful stop I was on my feet. Again a bullet whizzed by, missing me, but dictating my direction. I pressed my lips together, running in the only direction I could without getting a bullet in my spine. My mind was racing almost as fast as my body. It was clear they weren't trying to kill me. They were herding me. The question was where? I may have no idea where I was, but clearly they did. I may have escaped, but it felt like they had me exactly where they wanted me.

The sun was low in the sky, and running through the forest with the light threatening to disappear robbed you of certain senses while heightening others. It was disorienting to be deprived of sight while gifted with wolf like hearing. The scent of decomposing leaves made the atmosphere thick and suffocating despite the wide open space. The blackness closing in on me nurtured a sense of claustrophobia I'd fought against since I was a child, and was certain until this moment I'd conquered.

My feet pounded on the wet earth as I dodged bullets and darted around trees. They were closing in on me. They were in vehicles and I was on foot. It didn't take a genius to know who'd win that race. I could hardly breathe, days of malnutrition and ass-kicking's making me slow and sloppy, but still I pressed on. I ran because quitting wasn't in my vocabulary. I didn't know how to give up, and I wasn't built for surrender.

A tree branch snagged on the baseball cap, ripping it off my head. I pushed my legs harder, desperate to be free of this place. The woods were thinning out, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Being out in the open with nowhere to hide was the last thing I wanted, but being in the woods wasn't exactly working out. The last bullet they fired came close enough to tear a hole in the sleeve of my borrowed jacket. If this kept up these jackwagons would probably accidentally kill me which would really piss me off.

I broke through the tree line a minute later, and my stomach bottomed out. The ember of hope I was carrying deep in my soul all but snuffed out. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. My feet slid to a stop just as the ground fell away revealing the edge of a massive cliff.

My chest heaved as I looked to my right, eyes wide with disbelief. There were waterfalls in Virginia?

The raging waterfall was pouring massive amounts of water into the violent river running below. I looked across the gap, shoulders slumping in defeat because jumping it wasn't an option. I'd never make it. Jackie Joyner-Kersee couldn't clear the gap even if she was wearing a jet pack. My eyes flicked down, and I swallowed hard. The drop was 50 feet, at least.

"I have to say Spitfire, you continue to surprise the shit out of me."

I turned to face him, still panting, eyes searching for another means of escape. He had a literally army with him, men spread out on either side, all armed, all really, really unhappy. Well, at least _that_ part of the plan went off without a hitch.

"I did not think what you just did was possible." He grinned, stepping forward and swinging his stupid bat up on his stupid shoulder. Man, I needed sleep. "But here I stand... _mother-fucking corrected_."

My heels were hanging off the edge of the cliff making my hands shake violently. When my eyes found the water below he clucked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.

"I wouldn't. You've heard of Humpty Dumpty I presume?"

It wasn't the fall that would kill me. It was the sudden stop. I could survive the drop provided the water was deep enough. That was a big if. Unfortunately, there was no way to know without jumping off and hoping my kneecaps didn't end up knocking out my teeth. Even then hitting the water at this distance wouldn't exactly feel like a Swedish massage.

"Humpty Dumpty...is that the one where the guy sucks the other guys dick? I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, but to each his own," I replied, ignoring the disgruntled murmurs of his men.

"Ooh, dick sucking, finally something we can agree on." The way he wiggled his eyebrows made me cringe. "Why don't you step away from there?"

He waved his hand, urging me to move closer to him, and my my shoulders stiffen. I would rather run naked backwards in a field of dicks than go back. I looked over my shoulder, vertigo making me sway and causing a shiver to run down my spine.

Man, that was a _looong_ way down.

Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to get away from the looming cliff face and sheer vertical drop. The tears staining my face were from fear, but it wasn't the fear of jumping that scared me. It was the thought of being his prisoner again that utterly terrified me. I couldn't let that happen. I knew I wouldn't survive it, and that left only one option. I knew what I needed to do, but I wasn't sure I had the strength to do it.

"Now, now Spitfire, you do that and you die."

Our eyes met, and for the first time...ever...he looked nervous. I wasn't sure how, but he knew what I was contemplating.

"Maybe, maybe not," I mumbled.

He cocked his head to the side, grinding his teeth together. "Even if you survive you won't accomplish shit except pissing me off and starting a war."

"We're already at war asshole," I scoffed. "And pissing you off is becoming my knew favorite thing."

He scowled, eyes darkening as his hand curled around his stupid bat. "Maybe, maybe not, but it's a war you can't possibly win."

"Is that...doubt I hear in your voice douchebag?"

He was right to question whether they could win a war against us. If I made it out of here I would destroy him if it was the last thing I did. He knew that, and it scared him, rightfully so. I may have felt like giving up this morning, but I'd gotten my second wind. I still had a lot of motherfuckers left to kill before I died.

He sighed, trying to cover up any semblance of weakness while glancing to his left and right. His men were restless, unused to seeing their leader challenged.

"Why are you so resistant to change? Is what I'm offering so bad? It's a win on both sides Spitfire." He spread his arms wide, a smug smirk on his face. "What's left of this world is a stinking pile of dog shit. What I've created is paradise."

"Your paradise is straight up bullshit. It doesn't even come with 72 virgins," I replied, narrowing my eyes. His men shifted, uncomfortable with the mounting tension, but I saw the looks they exchanged behind his back. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?" he scowled, quickly losing his patience.

"It's tearing at the seams, all of it, coming apart, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it."

" _You don't know shit_!" he roared, taking a step forward. "Wanting to fuck you into submission will only keep you breathing for so long."

"You're a terrible liar," I smirked. He was off balance, faltering, and I intended to take full advantage. "You rule through fear, but fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate will be your downfall."

The more he tightened his grip the more communities would slip through his fingers. Hell, more than a few of the men standing behind him looked like they wanted to take him out, jump ship, or both.

People weren't meant to be controlled, not for any meaningful length of time. Order and rules were a far cry from tyranny and oppression. Eventually, everyone hit their limit. Eventually everyone fought back when backed into a corner.

I took a slow, deep breath. It was so quiet, peaceful almost. I heard birds chirping and the wind rustling leaves on the massive trees in the woods. The world around us was beautiful, unaware of the life or death standoff taking place.

It was difficult to describe what was at stake. It was more than my life. Much like our fight against The Governor this was about protecting our way of life. It was all about choice. In the end, it always boiled down to choice.

I'd lived through some monumentally stressful situations in my life, but none held a candle to this one. It was a strange sensation. I couldn't quite place my feelings though I knew the next few seconds would be the most harrowing of my life. It was like living in a place between moments, between breaths. I was straddling two gaping chasms that led to the same place, death. The bottomless pit within me held the apex of fear, pain, and dread I was desperate to shed.

The change happened abruptly, so suddenly it was jarring. I felt a perfect moment of clarity, like shards of blinding light that created a feeling of warmth that spread from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers. It seemed strange to me that I felt more alive in this moment then I had in weeks. Here, literally on the edge of death, I was finally free.

It wasn't surprising to see them all standing there, lined up on either side of Negan. Just as he had his army I had mine. My eyes gravitated to Ariel and Noah. It was the first time I'd seen them, but now, at the end, they were here. They looked different in death than they had in life, peaceful, and I hoped beyond hope that at least that was real. Both men smiled at me, one a roguish smirk and the other a boyish grin .

Negan frowned, following my line of sight to his left and right, but where I saw those I'd lost he saw nothing. My sister took a step forward, and my eyes shifted to her. The wind ruffled her long, dark hair, a few strands crisscrossing her face, a confident air surrounding her. She looked so grown-up, like the mature, poised woman she never got the chance to become. I was seeing her now as she would have been had she lived, had I kept my promise.

 _"It's time to go Alex," she said._

My breathing picked up, fast, shallow pants that made me dizzy.

 _"You'll be OK."_ That was easy for her to say she wasn't the one about to cannonball off a freakin' cliff. _"I'll see you on the other side."_

Seven words sealed my resolve.

I stood tall, chin held high. The doubt, fear, and panic faded to the background until the shaking in my hands ceased altogether. Negan saw it, the subtle change in my demeanor that telegraphed my intentions. I could have hidden it, but I was done hiding. I wanted him to know I would not kneel. I would not submit. I would defy him with my last breath.

He'd taken me to break my husband and further the strangle hold on my family, but he'd failed in both. It made me practically giddy knowing I'd taken that from him. Even now, while still technically within his grasp he felt me slipping away. The fact was eating away at him. He wasn't a man who could stomach losing. For someone who prided themselves on being controlled and focused he was unraveling surprisingly fast. His deterioration gave me the strength I needed to hand him a fatal blow.

"Spitfire," he warned, already moving towards me, but we both knew he'd never reach me in time.

"Fuck you."

I jumped.

* * *

 **What did you think of how Alex escaped? What do you think is up next?**

 **I won't give anything away except to say it's not over yet. ;)**

 **FYI, the song is Survival by Eminem.**


	77. The Long Road Home

**The Long Road Home**

In real-time I fell for maybe three-seconds. It felt more like three-minutes. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape, fluttering violently in my chest. I was struggling to breathe, air rushing by me and whipping my hair around furiously. In the back of my mind I remembered this was one of those times your life was supposed to flash before your eyes, but that wasn't happening. I saw nothing, probably because I'd yet to open my eyes. Despite not seeing a damn thing I felt a whole hell of a lot.

The cool breeze bombarding my body made goosebumps erupt over my exposed flesh. My heart was pounding. My head was pounding. My thoughts were pounding. My stomach was stuck somewhere in my throat. I was lost in the sensation of falling, and I had the insane notion that I might fall forever though I knew that wasn't true. The water below was quickly rushing up to meet me, and I knew all too soon I'd feel its brutal embrace.

The thought of slamming into the impossible hard, cold water sucked my mind back into the here and now. I forced my body into the proper entry position. I straightened my legs, crossing my arms over my chest just like you did when you rode those giant water slides I'd never been on. Slowly but surely the hysteria abated, years of training hijacking my body and calming my mind.

I chanced a peek at the water, trying to time my last deep desperate gasp of air. Even if I somehow manage to enter the water at the perfect angle I could still die. I had no idea how many feet lay between me and the river bottom. It could just as easily be 2-feet as 20. It was a small comfort that if it was the former at least it would be quick. I wouldn't feel much. I'd be lucky to feel the water soaking my borrowed clothes before my body imploded.

I gulped in a deep breath of air, adrenaline pumping in my veins. My mind was working overtime, trying to calculate the distance to the water. It was happening simultaneously too fast and too slow. There was only one thing left to do, hope.

I said a quick prayer to any god listening, body rigid with anticipation and then...I hit.

Entering the water felt more like slamming on to concrete. I plunged beneath the surface, the water consuming my body one painful inch at a time. The pitch darkness that swallowed me only added to my increasing terror.

The cold registered a second later, a debilitating glacial cold that shocked my system into immobility. Not that it mattered much. I had no idea which way was up, down, left, or right. Belatedly, I remembered I should swim though my body rebelled against the notion entirely. Moving was far too excruciating, but my need for air overrode everything else.

I kicked for the surface, or what I hoped was the surface, but the clunky boots strapped to my feet made it difficult. This was so typical; I'd survived the fall only to drown in the raging current of the river. The undertow was like a giant beast clawing at my body from every angles, throwing me one way only to toss me back in the opposite direction a moment later. My head finally broke the surface, and I was able to suck in one pitifully small gulp of life saving air before the river pulled me under again.

The river drug me further downstream in a dizzying pattern of lefts and rights as the river twisted and turned. Pain exploded in my thigh when I crashed into a large boulder sitting half obscured like an giant iceberg. A strangled scream ripped from my lungs, my pain echoing on the tall canyon walls. Icy water poured in my mouth and down my throat for a few painful seconds until I was once again submerged.

My body was spinning and tumbling, my head occasionally popping up just when I thought I couldn't hold my breath a second longer. I fought to keep my head above the water line, tilting my head back while trying to expel as much liquid from my lungs as possible.

The river dipped suddenly, and my stomach dropped into my soggy boots. My fingers clawed at the algae covering the rocks on the river bottom, trying to slow my momentum, but the momentary lull in the current vanished with the appearance of white caps crashing against my body. It whipped me downstream, twisting me in circles and slamming me into rocks. At this point I was unable to pinpoint a single source of pain. All I knew was it hurt, _everywhere_ , in my chest, my legs, my arms, my head, and water was continually pouring in my mouth, filling my lungs.

I was back under now, fighting a losing battle to survive.

My body was pummeled by rocks and low hanging tree branches as I gained speed, traveling further and faster.

Only one coherent thought was repeating in my groggy head, grab something and pull yourself out of the river. I reached blindly, and felt the slimy moss covering the rocks getting stuck under my fingernails. My left hand curled around a tree branch, the cuts on my knuckles reopening as I held on for dear life. My body jerked so suddenly to a stop I couldn't suppress a moan of pure misery.

The impossibly thin tree branch bent and bowed. The force of the river was stronger than the small piece of wood holding me in place. When I heard the first crack I swallowed hard, frantically struggling to gain my footing.

This was the only way. No one was going to save me. There would be no last minute rescue like in the movies. I either saved myself or I died.

I gathered what little strength I had remaining, coiling every muscle into a tight ball before exploding sideways, lunging desperately for the edge of the river. My fingernails scrapped against the wet earth as I pulled my body half onto the bank, my lower half still trapped in the raging current

My hands slipped even as I dug my fingers deeper into the soft soil. Nevertheless, I could feel my body being slowly pulled backwards, and I mumbled a strangled, "No."

The roar of the water dulled my other senses. I fought against the tide, pulling one leg out of the water and bracing my knee on the river bank. The muscles in my arms strained as I pulled, using every ounce of energy I had remaining. I tried to push off the river bottom with my other foot, and my thigh exploded in pain. There was a heartbeat thumping in my leg, but I ignored it, not stopping until the river finally released me.

Being out of the water was like having 100-pounds tied around your waist suddenly cut. I rolled and crawled until I was firmly back on dry land. When I was positive I was safe I collapsed. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt to simply lie there and exist, but at least I was alive. I was free.

Experimentally I wiggled my fingers and toes, feeling the pull and sting of several shallow cuts, but nothing serious. Next I flexed the muscles in my arms and legs, and immediately slammed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together in order to swallow a scream of anguish.

Yeah, that hurt.

While excruciatingly painful nothing felt broken or life-threatening. That was the only good news. I may have escaped The Saviors, survived the fall, and extricated myself from the river, but I was far from out of the woods. I couldn't lie here indefinitely. I needed to get up and get moving. I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty, I couldn't stay here. The river may have carried me several miles downstream, but it didn't mean I was outside The Saviors reach.

Rolling onto my side I took a moment to let the dizziness pass, taking slow deep breathes before pushing up onto all fours. It took a good three-minutes of struggling until I was finally on my feet. In the end I was only able to accomplish _that_ with the help of a nearby tree.

My vision was blurry and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but it was no use. With shaking hands I broke a branch off the tree, using it as a walking stick in order to take some pressure off my bruised thigh. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, and I closed my eyes, letting the last rays of its warmth heat my face.

Based on our field trip to Alexandria I knew The Sanctuary was roughly a 20-minute drive away. The brief glimpse of the map in Negan's room showed The Sanctuary, along with most of their outposts located closer to DC. Armed with this knowledge, sketchy as it was, I opted to head due south in the hopes I'd eventually run across a familiar landmark.

Unfortunately, at the rate I was progressing it would take me hours, if not days, to reach Alexandria, and that assumed I was heading in the right direction. My stomach rumbled, a reminder I hadn't eaten anything substantial in days.

My thoughts, once clear, were becoming increasingly incoherent as fatigue took over. Black dots dance in my line of sight making it difficult to see and harder to concentrate. My feet failed me, the obstacles covering the forest floor far too cumbersome for my clumsy body.

I didn't realize I'd fallen until I felt the damp leaves pressing against my palms. My chest heaved, a dry, rattling sound deep in my chest a signal of something potentially serious brewing internally. I knew I needed to get up, keep moving, but my body refused to corporate. I blamed all this for why I never heard them until I was already surrounded.

A twig broke, and my head snapped up. I blinked a few times trying to clear my vision, but what I saw remained unchanged. There were walkers on all sides. The fact they managed to encircle me without my knowledge was a testament to my current state. Walkers were slow and loud. Even bone-weary and on the verge of collapse I should have heard them coming a mile away.

I struggled to my feet slowly, body swaying precariously to one side. I used my walking stick to stop my fall, rolling my shoulders while curling my hand tighter around the stick. I still had my stolen knife, but it wouldn't do me any good against a herd this size. My only hope was to try and keep them away from me for as long as possible. I may be about to die, but by god, I was going to go out swinging, literally.

There were at least 30, far too many for one woman who'd recently escaped imprisonment armed with nothing except a rickety stick and a puny knife. I couldn't win, not feeling like I did, but it wouldn't stop me from trying. I hadn't escaped the clutches of a maniac to go out with a whimper.

I raised the walking stick, holding it like a baseball bat. Immediately the walkers froze and I frowned. My eyes darted back-and-forth in confusion, but still the walkers stood immobile. They held their ground, hovering just outside the reach of my melee weapon which made no sense. Walkers didn't behave like this. They didn't stop. They didn't hesitate. They attacked until you killed them, period.

"You are where you do not belong."

I whirled around, barely able to stop myself from falling flat on my face. I expected to see a living, breathing person behind me, but instead all I saw were more walkers. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my sanity not to abandon me right now. Ghost I could handle. Talking walkers, not so much.

The walkers took a collective step forward in unison, and I swung the stick wildly. They stopped, and I swear the one directly in front of me cocked its head to the side like it was studying me. The same walker raised its hand, making a forward gesture, and I knew I'd official gone off the deep end. The group again stepped forward as one, and again I swung. This time a few were forced to jump back to avoid the branch, and my mouth dropped open in shock.

Walkers didn't avoid fatal blows. They couldn't. They _literally_ didn't have the brain capacity for such actions. And yet, I'd just witnessed a herd do exactly that.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, swaying dangerously.

I was close to passing out. I could feel the darkness sneaking up on me. If I was going to die then I was going to take as many of these freaky ass walkers with me before I went. I screamed, taking a step forward and swinging the stick. Just like before the walkers easily avoided the strike, but I didn't stop, lunging at them and swinging again. I continued to curse, attempting to kill them, but never once made contact. The helplessness of my situation made tears prick in the corner of my eyes, and I swung one last time then lost my footing.

Chest heaving, knees wet from the damp soil soaking my jeans, head pounding painfully, I fumbled with the knife strapped to my waist. Swallowing hard I gripped the hilt as the walker's closed ranks around me. The weapon may not be enough to save me, but it was more than enough kill me.

The walkers took another step.

I took a deep breath, arm shaking. I wouldn't allow myself to become one of them. I couldn't bare the thought of wandering the woods for eternity as a monster. My only way out was a knife to the temple.

The herd continued creeping closer.

I closed my eyes, thoughts drifting to Daryl. He'd never know what happened to me. Negan would never tell anyone the truth, and despite my best efforts my tears finally fell. The anguish my disappearance would cause him absolutely gutted me. If our situations were reversed I'd never be able to handle not knowing what happened to him. His unexplained loss would be a gaping hole I'd never be able to fill, and the same held true for him. I hated myself for being the one to cause him such pain.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, lips trembling, "I'll see you again. This side or the other. I love you."

I raised the knife, preparing to plunge it into the side of my head.

"Stop!"

My eyes snapped open. The herd immediately halted their encroachment at the booming command. Directly in front of me the circle parted, walker's moving out of the way with a grace the dead simply didn't possess.

A lone walker moved forward, a woman, or at least she was at one time, gliding towards me like she was walking on air. She was petite, maybe 5'5", but carried herself with a regal quality that made her appear much larger. She watched me intently, eyes aware, body movements fluid and deliberate. Everything I knew about the dead told me this was impossible, and yet, it was happening.

She squatted down so we were eye level, careful to stay far enough away so I couldn't kill her. Long strands of stringy blonde hair fell over her shoulders with large patches on her skull left bare. The skin around her face was weathered and hard, an unnatural color of gray no human could replicate, but it was her eyes that stole the air straight from my lungs.

They were blue.

Walkers didn't have blue eyes or any other color for that matter. The moment they reanimated a cloudy, milky substance flooded the cornea blotting out whatever color the person possessed in life.

She studied me with intelligent eyes, taking in my long, wet hair hanging in knots over my shoulder, the bruises discoloring my skin, my tattered clothes far too big to be my own, and finally the weapon still clutched in my hand. Suddenly, she stood, and motioned for the walker's to move back. They complied instantly making my head spin.

"This one is a warrior," she announced, and I shook my head, trying to shake out the crazy. "Leave her be."

She turned on her heel, striding away from me, the horde that was moments from consuming my flesh following obediently.

"Where are you going?!" I yelled, trying and failing to get to my feet.

They didn't stop or slow. They kept retreating until they faded into the trees like they'd never been there at all. I searched for any sign of them, and found nothing which only made it harder to breathe. Had I imagined the entire thing? I sat back on my heels, head tipped towards the night sky, sobbing.

"Where are you going?!" I wailed.

No one answered because no one was there. Maybe no one had _ever been there_. That was the problem with madness. It was hard to tell fact from fiction.

Rustling in the bushes to my left drew my attention, and I pivoted on my heel to face the approaching threat. A man crashed through, breathing hard, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Alex," he mumbled in shock.

I blinked a couple times, but he didn't disappear.

"Jesus?"

He moved forward slowly like he was afraid I'd flip my shit. His eyes strayed to my hand, a muscle jumping in his jaw. I followed his line of sight, and it was only then I realized I was still holding the knife, poised to attack. I let my arm drop, a sign I wasn't going to hurt him, but watched his approach warily. My vision was coming and going in flashes, making his movements appear erratic and jerky. I blinked slowly, and felt myself start to fall. I expected to feel the hard packed ground slam into my body. Instead I felt arms wrap around me gently. He lowered me slowly to the ground, eyes wide and face grim.

"Are you real?" I raised a hand slowly, fingers tentatively reaching for his bearded face. His brow furrowed in what looked like sadness.

"I'm real." He grabbed my hand, squeezing hard as if to prove his statement. "I promise."

"Did you see them?"

"See who?"

"The walkers." He tensed, eyes leaving my face to scan the woods. "They were different..."

"Different how?"

"They talked."

He opened and closed his mouth several times. I knew I sounded crazy, and I was, but it didn't make my declaration any less true.

He cleared his throat, adjusting me in his arms. "We gotta get you out of here."

I grabbed the lapel of his jacket, forcing him to focus on me, pulling him down. "Is he...Daryl...I need to know..."

I'd surmised that he was alive when I saw Merle wearing his wedding band, but I needed to know for sure. If not, well, it would be better for everyone if he just left me here to die.

"He's alive."

Relief flooded my system, and I sagged against him. He smiled, swallowing hard before gathering me in his arms. He grunted, climbing to his feet while trying not to hurt me. My body jostled back-and-forth as he walked, the movements painful, but it didn't matter.

Daryl was alive.

I was free.

Those thoughts gave me comfort. I was free of Negan and my husband was alive, everything else was inconsequential.

"H-how di-i-d y-y-o-ou f-find me?" I was having a hard time forming words, my speech slow and jumbled.

"I was outside the compound. I saw you escape. I followed you." It felt like Jesus was running now, the rhythmic motion lulling me closer to sleep. "I still can't believe you jumped off the cliff."

"M-me eit-ther."

He chuckled. "Hang on."

Sure, no problem. I was an absolute pro at _not dying,_ especially after my stay at The Sanctuary.

Whatever Jesus said next was lost when I finally succumbed to unconsciousness. I was scared to dream because I knew I'd be plagued with horrific nightmares. Thankfully being unconscious wasn't the same as sleeping so I didn't dream, and that was a blessing.

Despite my inability to open my eyes or respond in any way I was aware. I heard Jesus talking to me. Turned out he was quite the chatterbox. He gave me minute-by-minute updates on our progress, though I really didn't need to be told we were running through the woods. My body was communicating that fact quite clearly.

He explained he'd found a car a few miles back we could use. When he gently laid me across the cool leather of the backseat I couldn't stop my sigh of relief. He asked if I wanted water, and I must have said something resembling a yes because his hand slid to the back of my neck. He propped my head up, lightly pressing a water bottle to my lips. As much as I wanted to drain the bottle dry I couldn't stop myself from choking on the first few drops, the precious liquid spilling from my mouth and down my shirt.

"Shit," he cursed, taking the bottle away while dabbing at my chin. "I've got to get you back."

"Mghbitlah," I mumbled. That was newly freed prisoner for back where?

"Please don't die."

His plea sounded more like a prayer. He shouldn't worry so much. This was the best I'd been in a _long_ _time_. Plus, I'd died plenty of times, and this felt nothing like that.

I felt every dip and bump in the road as he drove, unable to stop my corresponding moans of pain. What good was being unconscious if you still felt like crap?

The entire experience was bewildering, like an alien sensation, everything taking place around me while I was unable to actively participate. I had no idea how long we drove, maybe 10-minutes, maybe 10-hours. Finally the car slowed to a stop, and Jesus scrambled out of the front seat, yelling for help. A moment later the back door opened, and someone gently pulled me out of the car.

"Oh my god, is that Alex?"

That sounded like Maggie.

"Get her inside! Sasha, get Harlan!"

That was Glenn. I was sure of it, and if he was asking for Harlan that meant we were at Hilltop. It made sense. Jesus was from there _and_ they had a legit doctor I desperately needed. Not to mention Alexandria would be the first place Negan went looking for me.

Jesus adjusted me in his arms, mumbling something about staying alive or Daryl would kill him. Well, he wasn't wrong. His frantic shouts for people to get out of his way told me he knew it too.

 _"Are you sure this is real?"_

My body tensed at my sister's voice even as my mind went wild, heart rate spiking at the question only I heard. She was right. This wouldn't be the first time I dreamed of escape only to wake up and find myself still locked in The Sanctuary.

I felt Jesus lay me down on a plush, soft mattress, but instead of relaxing my body was pulled so tight it was a wonder my muscles didn't snap off my bones. It didn't matter I could feel the antique lace comforter brushing my forearm, or smell the aftershave Jesus put on this morning. I'd felt and smelled those kinds of things before only to have it all brutally ripped away.

"Where did you find her?" Maggie asked. She was only a few feet away on my right.

Jesus draped a light blanket over my freezing body. "She escaped Negan's compound, jumped off a cliff to keep from being recaptured."

"Off a cliff?!" Glenn screeched in disbelief. He was also on my right, probably near Maggie.

I moved my arms, dislodging the blanket slightly, searching for the knife at my waist. I whimpered when my hands brushed the sheath only to find it empty.

Think Alex. _Think goddamnit_.

I pushed the blanket all the way off, and predictably Jesus immediately bent down to adjust it. While he was hovering over me I searched his waist for the knife I knew was there. He dismissed my fumbling hands as confusion, gently murmuring reassurances while Glenn bellowed for Harlan to hurry up.

The moment my fingers touched the hilt of the blade I was moving. My body protested, the brutality of The Saviors bringing me close to tears, but I'd fought with broken bones, dislocated joints, and gaping holes in my body so I could do this.

Snatching the blade from his waist I bolted from the bed, backing up until I was firmly tucked in the far corner of the room with all of them in front of me.

"Alex, what are you doing?" Jesus asked.

I held the blade in my shaking hand, willing myself to stay conscious. "Stay back."

They all looked shocked, unsure what to do. They might not know, but I did. I couldn't trust my own mind, couldn't trust that what I was seeing was real. Just this morning I'd been chatting with T so I was putting the brakes on this welcome home party for now. I had no idea where the line between reality and fiction was drawn, and until I did no one was getting near me.

"We just want to help." My eyes slid to Harlan.

 _"His brother wanted to help too," T added, standing next to me with his arms crossed and a distrustful look on his face._

"No," I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. Someone stepped forward, the wood floor squeaking in protest and I sent withering glare at the intruder. "I said stay back!"

Maggie froze, hands raised in surrender. She didn't look scared, only sad which was difficult to reconcile. Her husband however put a hand on her arm, pulling her firmly back then stepping in front of her so he could shield her body with his.

My breathing was coming so fast it felt like I might faint. I couldn't allow that to happen. Not until I was sure what the fuck was happening. Until then I wasn't letting my guard down, and there was only one way to accomplish that.

"Where's Daryl?"

No one spoke, the group exchanging looks that made my anxiety spike to epic proportions. I turned my head to Jesus, gripping the knife so tight my fingernails cut my palm. If he'd lied to me, if he was...dead, I wasn't sure what I'd do, but it wouldn't be good.

An animalistic growl replaced the stark quietness of the room, and it wasn't until Glenn pushed his pregnant wife into the hall that I realized it was coming from me. His instinct to protect her was spot on. I was on a hair trigger and mentally unstable to boot. I was _literally_ capable of anything.

Jesus put both hands up, cocking his head to the side. "He's alive, I promise you." I narrowed my eyes, waiting. If he was alive, then where the hell was he? "He's not here."

" _Wrong. Fucking. Answer_ ," I snarled, getting ready to attack.

This was a trick. I was still in The Sanctuary. I didn't know who these people were, but they were my enemy and needed to die.

"But he's coming," he added quickly, taking a step in front of the others and drawing my sole focus. "It wasn't safe for him to stay here or in Alexandria after he escaped so he went to another community. We sent a runner to get him. He'll be here soon."

I had about 1,000 questions, but they could wait. There were too many people in this room. I needed space.

"Everyone out."

"Alex, why don't you let Harlan check you out? You've been..."

"No doctors" I ground out, cutting off whatever Glenn was going to say. "Get out." When no one made a move to comply my lips trembled, and I added a pathetically quiet, "Please."

A single tear fell from the corner of my eye and Jesus nodded. "Alright, we'll go." Everyone started to back out of the room though it was plainly obvious they didn't want to. "But we'll be right outside if you need us. There are clothes in the closet, and the bathroom is fully stocked so feel free to get cleaned up."

I didn't respond, watching them like a hawk. It wasn't until the door shut with a resounding click that a sob escaped. My back hit the wall, feet sliding out from under me until I was sitting firmly tucked in the corner. I pulled my legs to my chest, still holding the knife in my left hand. They'd left the lights on, and despite it being so bright they hurt my eyes I was grateful. Bad things happened in the dark.

I kept my eyes glued to the door, waiting for them to barge in, waiting for the room to morph into my cell at The Sanctuary, just... _waiting_. It felt like any minute my surroundings would disappear, and I'd be back in hell.

The apprehension sitting heavily on my shoulders made my body shake. My stomach rumbled again and my throat ached for the glass of water sitting perched a few feet away on the night stand, but I didn't move a muscle. I stayed in my corner with my knife in my hand, waiting.

 _"That was unnecessary young lady. They were only trying to help."_

I cradled my head in my hands, shaking it even though it made my headache flare. "Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head."

 _"Now, now dear, that's not helping."_

"You're not real."

I opened my eyes, the air stolen from my lungs when I locked eyes with Hershel. He smiled down at me, a sad, knowing smile worn by a man who'd lived a hard life.

 _"You're not crazy," he said, walking over to me._

I snorted. "Guess they didn't cover that in doctor school, huh?"

Seeing and talking to dead people most certainly made you crazy. I didn't need WebMD for that diagnosis.

 _"This is your way of coping with what you've been through."_ I ground my teeth together, annoyed he was making sense. _"Once you're able to accept the truth you'll be able to heal, physically and emotionally."_

"I have accepted it!" I roared, holding out my arms and turning them over so he could see the cuts and bruises. There was hardly a spot on my body that didn't bear the evidence of my acceptance. "I lived it! I feel it! The proof of my acceptance is on my goddamn body!"

 _"Those will heal," he said evenly, not the least bit shocked by my outburst._ That at least was spot on. Hershel didn't get ruffled. _"And that's not what you need to accept."_

I rested my head against the wall, eyes fluttering closed. "What then?"

 _"That it's not your fault."_ Not this again. He sighed heavily like he could hear my inner thoughts. _"Remember Alex, mountains don't rise without earthquakes."_

* * *

 **Another big departure from the show...Alex met the Whisperers** ** _._** **Question is, did it really happen or was it all in her head? Better yet, will anyone believe her? Hmmm, interesting.**

 **She's out of The Sanctuary and safely at Hilltop thanks to Jesus. Were you surprised to see him show up? Nevertheless, she's got a long way to go.**

 **Guess what, next chapter the reunion we've all been waiting for finally happens.**


	78. Listen To Your Heart

**Listen To Your Heart**

Shouting in the hallway startled me into awareness. My head jerked away from the wall, and I hastily swiped the drool from my chin. My eyes darted around the room anxiously, but nothing had changed. It was the same room they'd brought me to when I first arrived. That was either really good or really bad. On one hand it might mean this was actually real. On the other it could just be an exceedingly long hallucination which would kind of suck. At least there weren't any recently deceased people hanging around. I was going to consider that turn of events progress.

It was dark outside, no light whatsoever streaming through the three windows scattered around the room. When I'd laid my head on the wall the sun was bright in the morning sky. I'd slept, and long enough for the sun to have set and drool to dry on my face.

"Get outta my fuckin' way or I'll kill ya!"

My breathing seized in my lungs even as my heart thumped in my chest. I knew that voice. I'd know that voice anywhere. It was my salvation, and it was only a few feet away. I wanted to get up, run out of the room and throw my arms around him, but I stayed rooted in my corner, knife in my hand. Too many people and too many unknowns lay outside this room. It wasn't safe. Worse still, I might be imagining the entire thing.

"She's not in a good way. You need to be prepared..."

There was a scuffle followed by a loud bang then silence. I crouched low with my weight balanced on the balls of my feet, palm sweating as I twirled the knife in my hand. My body throbbed painfully, desperate for rest, but now wasn't the time. I had to be ready. For _what_ I had no idea.

"Daryl please!" My mouth went dry. That sounded like Rick, and he'd said my husband's name. "Let him go. He's only trying to help."

"He's right lil' brother." Merle. I squeezed my eyes closed, tears cascading down my face. "Firecracker needs ya. That's all that matters right now."

I heard them talking, but it was too muffled to make out their words. The distinctive thud of boots made my bottom lip tremble. I watched the door knob twist, holding my breath. I wouldn't be able to keep it together if this turned out to all be a vivid hallucination.

The door opened slowly, a lone figure standing silhouetted by the light shining in the hallway. His long, lean, powerful body stood immobile save for his fists which were clenching at his side repeatedly. The contours of his face were partially shadowed by the light, but the familiarity made my stomach bottom out. My eyes strayed to his long hair, and I found comfort in the disobedient strands falling in his eyes. His muscled chest swelled at steady intervals, the fabric of his shirt straining against his bulk. His jeans were beyond filthy, covered in dirt with strands of rope tied around the ankles.

He stood motionless in the door, watching me carefully with an unreadable expression. His steel blue eyes scanned me quickly, taking in every injury. In the blink of an eye his face cycled through every emotion, fury, regret, sadness, before finally settling on horror. I bit my lip self-consciously, watching him warily. If I looked half as bad as I felt this must be agonizing for him. If our positioned were reversed I wouldn't be able to stomach it.

 _"You need to be sure," my sister warned._

My eyes slammed shut, a puff of air punching out between my lips. She was right. She may be dead, but she was right. It looked like Daryl, but that didn't mean it _was Daryl_. I couldn't trust my own mind so what I saw right in front of me meant absolutely nothing. There was only one way to be sure.

My heart.

Minds could be tricked, but my heart had never failed me. Even when everything else abandoned me my love for this man was like a beacon in the darkness leading me home. My heart knew him. The burning feeling in my chest that was spreading rapidly through my body simply couldn't be hallucinated.

This was real.

 _He was real._

"D-d-daryl?"

My stammered, timid question made his body hunch like he'd taken a punch straight to the gut. "Yeah Red, it's me."

That was all it took for the dam to break. The walls I'd constructed while held prisoner exploded, shattering into a million pieces like they'd never been there at all.

The knife clattered to the ground as I fell to my knees, huge, quaking sobs tearing through my body. I curled my arms around my middle like I might be able to physically hold myself together. Salty drops of tears fell from my chin, drenching my shirt and the floor. My body shook uncontrollably, and I braced my hand against the floor hoping to stop the shaking, but it seemed to shake as I did. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop shaking. _I couldn't stop._

The door slammed shut and in two strides he was in front of me, pulling me into his arms.

The moment he touched me I was consumed by the force of my breakdown. I could no longer see, and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. I clawed at his back, trying to pull him closer though I knew it would never be enough. He was the only thing that could heal the hurt trapped inside me.

I heard sounds, like a distressed animal, raw and broken, pouring out of me. The effort it took to unleash these emotions robbed me of something I didn't know I had left to give. This was the aftermath of Negan. He was a thief of spirits and a destroyer of souls. The pain he was able to inflict lingered long after he was gone.

I felt Daryl sit down, scooting back until he was leaning against the wall, his arms still firmly locked around me. He held me close, whispering in my ear words I didn't understand. It sounded like he was crying too, and that knowledge was worse than all the beatings I received at the hands of The Saviors. I could bear my own pain, but the thought of him suffering was enough to stop my heart.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, leaning back so I could see his face. My gut clenched when I saw the glistening tears on his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

I didn't know what I was apologizing for, but I'd do _absolutely anything_ to erase the haunted look in his eyes.

"Stop." He cupped my face in his large hands, taking a slow, deep breath. "Ya ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." His lips trembled, and I tasted the salt of my own tears on my lips. "I was so damn scared. I didn't know if ya were alive or..."

Hearing him admit he was afraid was like that moment when you were a child, and you saw an adult cry for the first time. Like the person you depended on to have their shit together _really didn't._ That was the kind of thing that shook your world down to the very foundation, and my foundation was already pretty goddamn shaky.

"I'm OK," I lied, pressing a weak kiss to his lips. "I'm OK."

I wasn't OK, not by a long shot, but maybe, now that he was here, I would be, eventually.

He shook his head in disagreement, lips pressed in a hard line as he tucked loose strands of hair behind my ears gently. "I wanted to come for ya. I tried after, but..."

"Shhh," I interrupted, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in the crook of his neck.

I'd known the moment our initial escape was foiled I was on my own. The Sanctuary wasn't a place you strolled up to and took down. They had us in numbers, weapons, and depravity. I was glad someone stopped him. If they hadn't he probably wouldn't be here right now.

I don't know how long we sat there, two broken pieces of the same puzzle. I could have sat there forever, but rarely did things work out the way you wanted.

"Ya wanna shower?"

"Is that an invitation?"

He pulled away, eyes narrowed in calculation. He wasn't buying my attempt to distract him and he wasn't ready for jokes. We both knew I was in no condition for the forbidden polka. I was stalling, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as humanly possible, and he knew it.

Instead of waiting for an answer he stood, leaving me no choice but to go with him. I hissed in pain, forced to clutch his shirt in order to steady myself until a wave of dizziness passed.

"Red?"

I shook off his question. "Help me to the bathroom."

The walk to the small bathroom took its toll. So much so that by the time he deposited me on the toilet I was breathing hard and lightheaded. Maybe refusing food wasn't the best idea.

"Want me to..."

"I got it."

I inhaled slow and deep before shrugging out of my stolen jacket. Daryl hovered nearby, unsure how to help, but unwilling to leave me alone. He didn't say anything. He simply stood there, clenching his jaw as if steeling himself for what was about to happen. He wore the same look when he charged headfirst into battle.

While I worked to undress he stepped around me, pulling back the plastic shower curtain and turning on the water. By the time he finished I was naked, using the vanity to hoist myself to my feet with shaking legs. He said nothing, but I saw the way his eyes slid over my battered body, meticulously cataloging the damage. His face was a blank mask, but I saw the fury simmering in his pensive, blue eyes.

I caught glimpses of the aftermath displayed on my body, and a wave of realization washed over me, but I did what I'd been doing since Negan threw me in the back of that van. I ignored it all. If I acknowledged his fear or anger it meant acknowledging my own, and I wasn't ready for that. I couldn't handle it. I was hanging on by my fingernails. It felt like my insides were being yanked apart, two different parts of myself duking it out for control. On one hand I could continue to compartmentalize in an effort to deny reality. On the other I could accept what happened to me and maybe begin to heal this hurt.

Denial wasn't just a river in Egypt my friends.

If I had to choose between denial and sorrow I chose denial. At least it didn't hit you like a punch to the tit when you least expected it.

I stood next to the tub staring down in dismay. There was zero chance I was able to successfully get in without falling, and the last thing I needed right now was to be more fucked up than I already was. Sighing heavily I turned my husband.

"Help me in."

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, nostrils flaring. He knew me well enough to know asking for help wasn't in my nature. The fact I had meant things were bad, really bad.

He took my hand, carefully guiding me to the shower, all while grinding his teeth so hard I was positive he was going to wear them down to nubs. I felt clumsy and awkward in my own skin, almost falling twice before finding my footing in the slippery tub.

"I got it," I insisted, bracing one hand on the wall while breathing hard. Maybe if I kept saying that I'd start believing it.

"A'right." He reluctantly released me, closing the shower curtain with a tug that damn near pulled the rod off the walls. "I'll be right outside if ya need me."

"OK."

I spent the first few minutes simply letting the warm water slap against my body while taking a good, long look at myself. The bruise on my thigh from the boulder was an ugly, dark shade of black outlined in deep purple that covered most of my thigh before disappearing to the back of my leg. My knuckles were covered in scabs, fingers still horribly swollen, a testament to my weak attempts to fight back. The bruising on the right side of my ribs was older, the colors a garish green and sickly yellow. On my left the bruise was new, the shape of a boot, Negan's boot. I probed my face, wincing slightly at the swollen skin around my right eye and tender cuts on the left side of my mouth. When taken as a whole it painted a particularly gruesome picture of my captivity.

Naked.

Beaten.

Starved.

Tortured.

The water swirling around the drain ran equal parts red and black for the first few minutes. On autopilot I gingerly washed my hair, taking care to avoid the tender spots. Absently I rubbed a few strands between my fingers, remembering how bile had swirled in my stomach when Negan had done the same. For a moment I considered hacking it all off. There were scissors in medicine cabinet.

I shook my head, letting my hand drop. He'd already taken so much from me. I refused to give him another inch. Cutting my hair off would be like admitting he won.

On autopilot I rinsed out the shampoo before adding conditioner. My mind drifted back to a time not long ago when I'd done the same thing under the supervision of a woman at The Sanctuary. No, not a woman, a prisoner. A prisoner who'd hurt the man I loved, but in a surprising turn of events helped me escape. At least I was reasonably certain it was her.

If she had, did that mean I owed her a debt? Did it mean if I ever saw her again I should spare her life?

My hand covered my mouth to muffle my distress because I already knew the answer. I watched the soap that had disinfected my wounds swirling around the drain, and wished like hell it was that easy to disinfect my soul because I knew the truth. I wouldn't spare Sherry. I wouldn't spare _any_ _of_ _them_. I was going to kill them all.

For so long my only concern was surviving until the next hour. Now that I'd escaped I didn't know where to go from here. When you ran on instinct, adrenaline, and a pure desire to piss someone off it didn't leave much time for anything else. I'd packed away all the hurt, despair, guilt, and horror the moment my cell door slammed closed. I felt them escaping now, and it was awful.

Ariel and Noah brutally beaten to death as we watched helplessly.

Forced to kneel, guns pressed to the back of our heads while he threatened to chop off Carl's arm.

Rick's desperate pleas for mercy, and ultimate submission to satisfy the whims of a maniac.

Attempting escape only to wonder if I'd succeeded in nothing except killing the man I was trying to save.

I didn't realize I was huddled on the shower floor weeping until Daryl yanked the shower curtain back, looking down at me with something akin to desperation. I was shaking violently, and he hastily twisted the knob on the shower, turning off the now freezing water. A towel was draped over my shoulders, and then I was lifted, effortlessly secured in his bulging arms like I weighed nothing at all.

He sat me down on the bed, firmly tucking the towel around me before stepping back and snagging a light throw blanket from the end of the bed. He wrapped it around me in an effort to quell the cold. I gripped the edge of the towel, hair hanging in my face, watching water droplets drip off the end.

"Red..." His voiced cracked, and he knelt in front of me, bracing his hands on either side of my legs. He looked tortured, broken, like he was dying a slow, painful death. "Harlan gave me some stuff." He gestured to the nightstand where there were several rolls of gauze, antibiotic ointment, pill bottles, and bandages. "He said ya wouldn't let 'em near ya. I know ya don't wanna talk 'bout it, but...I gotta know...did they..."

His head was bowed, shoulders shaking lightly. He was crying again. My lips trembled as I raised my hand, gently running my fingers through his long hair. His breathing hitched, hands pressing against my thighs. I took a slow, steady breath, gathering the courage to tell him what he needed to hear.

"They didn't..." I stuttered, swallowing hard. His body tightened, and I forced myself to finish. "They didn't rape me."

All the air left his lungs at once as his body collapsed onto mine. His head was in my lap, arms hugging me while he cried what I imagined were tears of relief. They'd taken something from me, but not that. It was a mercy we were both thankful for now.

"It could have been a lot worse," I assured him.

That was as far as I could go right now. I didn't want to think about what happened much less talk about it, even to him. I needed time.

"Jesus said he saw ya busitn' out. Said ya had those assholes chasin' their tails." It felt good knowing my escape fucked up their day. "He told us they cornered ya at a cliff, and..."

"Yeah," I cut him off with a fake smile, "It was that or listen to him talk some more."

His eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't buying my blasé attitude about my imprisonment or my escape, but he didn't push me because that wasn't his way. Daryl was exceedingly private. He expected others to respect that about him, and offered the same in return.

"I'm gonna kill them sumbitches," he growled, fingers digging into my thighs.

He wanted to kill them, but he didn't know what I did. They were already dead. I was coming for them, and there was nothing that could save them. It was God's job to judge them. It was my mission to arrange the meeting.

"Can I?" He gestured to the medical supplies, and I nodded wordlessly.

He worked with laser focus, inspecting every injury like my life depended on it which it probably did. Infection was just as deadly as walkers. We had antibiotics, but not an endless supply, and if an infection made its way into my blood stream that was it, game over.

I could practically hear his desire to ask how each bruise and every cut occurred, but he voiced none of them. It was equal parts giving me time, and his inability to hear the lurid details. If he knew half of what I'd been through there wouldn't be a soul in the world that would be able to stop him from storming Negan's compound and killing him with his bare hands. I hadn't endured weeks of torment to lose him so I kept my lips sealed.

By the time he was done he was so worked up he couldn't stand still. His hands shook as he helped me get dressed in borrowed clothes, settling me under the covers and thrusting a tray of food in my lap. It was literally pilled with enough food to feed 10 people, scrambled eggs, toast, jelly, bacon, milk, and fresh fruit.

"Eat," he ordered, pacing back-and-forth in front of the bed.

I opted to start with dry toast. Much as I wanted to face plant in the pile of fresh steaming eggs my stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. I nibbled on the toast, tracking my husband as he made his way from one end of the room to the other. His mounting frustration didn't ebb as he paced, rather it appeared to swell.

"What happened after you got out?" I asked, washing down the toast with a tiny sip of water.

He paused, eyes flicking to me briefly before he resumed his march. There was a flash of something that looked a lot like self-loathing on his face, but it was gone so fast I wasn't sure it was ever there.

"Did ya plan it like that?" he ground out, turning swiftly on his heel and headed for the opposite side of the room.

I sighed, setting the toast down. "No."

That was the truth. I'd planned to get us both out, but I always knew who I'd choose if the time came. I'd known since the day I met him.

He eyed me briefly before shaking his head, coming to his own conclusion which he didn't feel inclined to share.

"Don't ever do nothin' like that again Red."

"What, get kidnapped by a psychopath? Sure thing _dear_."

He stopped mid-stride, glaring at me. I glared right back. It felt almost...normal, whatever _that_ meant.

"Ya know what I mean."

"I don't."

"We go together or not at all." Yeah, that wasn't going to work for me. "Say it Red."

I shook my head. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"He wanted you to...to...be one of them."

He stared me down. "He wants the same for ya."

"No, he doesn't...at least not at first." He frowned, connecting the dots. "His plan was to use me to break you. He always wanted you. I was just...a means to an end."

At least that was his initial plan. It wasn't until after his escape that Negan realized what he actually had in his possession. His obsession, his desire to own me, to break me, was entirely accidental. When he took me he saw me only as tool instrumental in my husband's demise.

"Should sleep. Look like shit."

"You're so sweet."

He pursed his lips, taking the tray from me. I pretended not to notice his look of disapproval at the food remaining. Rome wasn't built in a day. If I scarfed down all that food the only thing I'd accomplish would be sleeping with my head in the toilet.

He flicked off the light, bending down to turn of the lamp on the night stand, but my hand gripped his wrist hard.

"Don't!" I yelled, voice panicked. I didn't want to be in the dark, not again. He watched me carefully, pulling his hand back slowly as I struggled to change the subject. "Will you lie down with me?"

He nodded curtly, kicking off his boots, and climbing under the covers fully clothed. I laid my head on his chest, hand resting on his massive bicep while he hooked one arm under me, pulling me closer. He smelled like the woods and sweat, a uniquely intoxicating scent that made my stomach swim with butterflies.

"What happened after?" I asked to distract myself from _those_ _thoughts_.

He said nothing at first, pulling me closer. He held me with a gentleness he reserved only for me. In his arms the world didn't feel so terrible, and I didn't feel so broken.

"Lost those assholes in the woods," he explained, absently stroking my hair, "Knew I couldn't go straight to Alexandria or Hilltop cause that bastard would be lookin' for me. Spent a few days in the woods b'fore I woke up one morning with Jesus sittin' in the livin' room of the shit hole I was hiddin' in."

"How did he find you?" And how the hell did he sneak up on you, _again_?

He shushed me, guiding my head back until it was lying on his chest.

"Bastard's slippery." What in the redneck did that mean? "The Saviors had already been to Hilltop. He didn't think it was safe there. Told me about another community, The Kingdom."

"The Kingdom?"

Was he serious? The Saviors, The Sanctuary, The Governor, and now _The Kingdom_.

"They're a'right." That was quite a compliment coming from Daryl. "Gave me a place to lay low while I healed up. Morgan's there. So was Carol for a bit, but she was gone by the time I got there. Not sure where, and Morgan ain't sayin' shit."

My head hurt just thinking about everything that happened. Another community meant another possible threat or potential ally. Jesus clearly trusted them, and Carol and Mr. Miyagi were safe there so it was something.

Thinking about my husband's best friend made me squirm. It was plain in his tone he was annoyed with her desertion. She'd left Alexandria because she was afraid of herself, and it appeared she'd been unable to reconcile that feeling in another community. She was likely to stay in her self-imposed isolation until something forced her out of hiding. Unfortunately for everyone that something was going to be terrible.

"Do they really call it The Kingdom?"

He snorted, "Yeah. Even got a King, guy named Ezekiel."

I sat up, eyebrows raised. "Are you shitting me?"

"Nah," he grinned, "He's got a tiger too."

"A tiger?" _That_ peaked my interest. It wasn't everyday someone had a pet tiger.

"Yep."

This I had to see. A king _and_ a tiger.

"How did Merle get your ring?"

He smiled, guiding my head down. "Gave it to Jesus b'fore he left The Kingdom. Told him to get it to Merle."

"You knew I'd see him."

He sighed, "Figured that prick would pull some bullshit, take ya there lookin' for me." He paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I wanted to be there. I swear..."

"It's good that you weren't."

"Merle told me what he did," he growled.

"Yeah."

I didn't know what else to say. He'd put me on my knees in front of my family with the intention of executing me. Living through that sucked. I was positive hearing about it was worse.

I listened to the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat. Normally it lulled me into sleep in the blink of an eye, but tonight sleep eluded me. In typical fashion he drifted off to sleep in under a minute. As long as I'd known him he'd been like that. It was like he had an on/off switch allowing him to sleep and wake almost instantly.

Me, not so much. I stayed still in his arms for as long as I could before rolling over. After countless days spent huddled on cold, damp concrete the mattress was too soft. It felt like years before my eyes drift closed, and sleep finally claimed me.

 _"Choice is yours Spitfire."_

 _I discreetly surveyed The Saviors surrounding me though I wasn't sure why. They made their intentions clear so stealth was no longer necessary. My eyes slid back to Negan, my lip curled in disgust. There was no choice, and we both knew it._

 _This was the first time he'd made this proposition though I knew it wouldn't be the last. I had three choices, join his army, join his harem, or pay the price._

 _"I thought you didn't want anyone who wasn't willing," I countered, buying time while I search for a way out._

 _He rocked back on heels with a smile. "Oh I don't." He glanced over his shoulder at a woman with long, blonde hair wearing, if you could believe it, a cocktail dress. "Tell her honey."_

 _The timid woman who couldn't be older than 25 stepped forward on command, eyes downcast as she wrung her hands in front of herself nervously. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no sound came out and Negan clucked his tongue._

 _"Oh baby," he chided, annoyed at her weakness, "Amber here used to be a worker. Suffering through every shit-filled day like all the other nobodies in this place until..." He slung an arm around her, pulling her against him and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "She decided our...attraction, simply couldn't be denied for one more fucking second. Am I right?"_

 _"Y-y-e-e-s," she stumbled, body instinctively leaning away from the man holding her._

 _"Rousing endorsement," I deadpanned._

 _Two-Face shoved me in the back while Negan's eyes cut to my face, but I merely raised an eyebrow. He wasn't convincing me of shit. In fact, he was doing just the opposite. Amber looked like she'd rather give birth to a sperm whale than touch him, but sure, keep going, I was all ears._

 _"What you fail to see is that it's a win-win for everybody," he added, licking his lips suggestively. It was a minor miracle I didn't puke on his shoes. "Amber's momma gets the meds she needs, and I get the loving I need."_

 _"Extortion is the key to all successful relationships." The man on my left reared back, delivering a right hook that snapped my head to the side. I tasted blood on my tongue, and swiped at my lip, my fingers coming away red. I stood up, glaring at the much larger man. "Touch me again and I'll rip out your intestines and strangle you with them."_

 _He moved forward, drawing the weapon strapped to his hip, but Negan put a hand up, stopping him while laughing like a lunatic._

 _"I swear, you're worth keeping alive just for the one-liners." He wiped the tears from his eyes, face serious as he turned to Amber. "Now, where were we..."_

 _"You were explaining how you're a sadistic polygamist who manipulates women into bed yet denies it's rape."_

 _He ignored me, waving his bat in the air dramatically. "That's right, Amber, lovely, doe-eyed Amber." Gross. "My devoted wife who loved me enough to sneak around behind my back and fuck her pansy ass ex-boyfriend thinking I wouldn't find out."_

 _Amber didn't even attempt to hide her tears, openly sobbing._

 _"But I did cause I'm the motherfucking man. A little patty cake with a hot iron for old Markie Poo, and all is forgiven. Am I right?"_

 _Two-Face flinched behind me, and I ground my teeth. It didn't take a college degree to connect the dots on that one If he wasn't such an asshole I'd feel sorry for him, and his fucked up face._

 _This was the frustrating part about real life; villains were never as clearly defined as they were in stories. They all had a touch of humanity at their core that was often the cause behind their malevolence. That simple fact made it harder to hate them, much as I might want to._

 _He spun Amber around to face him, smashing his lips to hers despite her distraught squeals of protest. He deepened the kiss, dipping her back, hands roaming her body. I couldn't watch, my stomach revolting at the sight._

 _A few moments later he released her, pushing her aside as he faced me. "So, what's it gonna be?"_

 _"You ask that like there's a choice."_

 _"Oh, there's always a choice."_

 _"I thought you said you didn't condone rape," I countered, fully aware of the circle of men closing in on me._

 _He twirled around to face Amber. "Do I force you honey?" He walked slowly toward her, grinding his body on hers slowly. "Do I ever make you do anything you don't want to do over, and over, and over?"_

 _How she found the composure to not claw his eyes out was astounding._

 _"N-No," she stuttered, eyes squeezed closed as he nibbled on her ear. It made me cringe, and I was five-feet away._

 _"Oh, yeah, now I totally get it. Sign me up," I joked, trying to draw his attention away from her even though I wasn't sure why. I owed these people nothing, but watching him manhandle a woman who clearly despised him was beyond my limit._

 _He rounded on me. "I'm losing my patience with you."_

 _"I get that a lot."_

 _"It's me or them." He pointed at his followers, eyebrows raised, waggling his eyebrows like a dork._

 _"You extort women into bed, and call it marriage." His nostrils flared as he stepped away from me. "Do your worst asshole cause I'll never say yes to that."_

 _"I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."_

 _I shrugged, "You're off to a good start cause this is 20-minutes of my life I'm never getting back."_

 _He grinned, giving the signal for his men to attack. The initial punch to my kidney sent me to my knees, but I could still hear his words as he snagged Amber's hand._

 _"They all say that in the beginning Spitfire...but one way or another...they always come around."_

My eyes snapped open, my next breath seizing in my lungs. I turned to look at the window only to see the dead of night starring back at me.

I sighed, rolling on my back, careful not to wake the sleeping man next me. For a few minutes I tried to will myself back to sleep, to not think about what most people would call a nightmare. Only I knew the truth, it wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory. A memory I would likely never forget. That one was particularly gruesome. The beating Two-Face and his thugs delivered damn near killed me. It was a transgression they paid for in blood. They were meant to break me, not kill me.

I opened my eyes and looked at the pill bottles on the bedside table. One to make me forget even though I never would. The other to ease the pain, but how did you ease something that was carved into your very soul?

I decided the moment Daryl explained what they were that I wouldn't take them. No matter what I did the pain and the memories would never let me go. I was trapped in hell with no way out.

I sat up slowly, pulling my legs out from under the covers and swinging them to the floor. My hands on my knees I took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in the aftermath of the nightmare. Once I felt more composed I stood, snagging my knife from the nightstand.

My eyes lingered on Daryl for a beat as I stood in front of the door. He looked younger when he slept. The worry he carried in his waking hours erased like words on a blackboard. He looked peaceful, and it broke my heart he would only experience something so precious in his dreams.

I blinked back tears, quietly opening the door and slipping into the dark hallway. I didn't move for a moment, back pressed against our door while my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. I didn't hear anything, everyone probably sleeping given the late hour. In my condition it wasn't the best idea to wander around, but I couldn't stay in that room. I needed the reminder I was free to come and go as I pleased.

The outside air was crisp and cool, reminding me I was clad in only black leggings and a t-shirt. The grass was damp under my feet and I stood there for a minute, wiggling my toes, enjoying the feeling of being outside, of being alive, of being free.

I had no destination in mind, focusing only on the feeling of rocks under my feet as I walked. At night Hilltop was a lot like my sleeping husband, peaceful, serene. There were guards on the front gate, but their backs were to me so I moved by unnoticed. The shacks and crudely set-up structures scattered around the community were vacant at this hour, blacksmith tools abandoned mid project and piles of wood stacked haphazardly at the end of the day.

I was walking along the perimeter fence, examining stacks of pottery when I stumbled to an abrupt halt. My mouth was dry, my hands shaking so violently it was difficult to keep a hold on the knife. My feet moved forward of their own volition, eyes locked on the two fresh mounds of dirt in front of me. The only thing marking their final resting place was a stick pounded into the ground, and a neatly stacked pile of rocks.

At first I wanted to believe it wasn't them, that this was someone I didn't know, but then I saw the old pocket Bible. The Bible Hershel had gifted Merle at the prison in the hopes he'd find redemption. The Bible my brother-in-law subsequently passed on as a wedding present to Noah the day he got married.

My knees hit the ground between the graves, hands covering my mouth though it did nothing to stifle my desperate wails. I dropped the knife, hands digging into the dirt beside each grave as my tears turned the dirt to mud.

Ariel and Noah.

In an instant that night flashed before my eyes. I saw the bat connect with Ariel's head, his body contorting oddly even as he struggled to sit up. I heard his last words, a jab aimed at Negan that hit their mark, but achieved absolutely nothing.

I shook my head like it might change what happened next.

Daryl jumped to his feet, lunging at Negan. I'd already killed one man, and was moments away from taking out another when I was tackled. I remembered the feeling of the dirt in my mouth, a firm hand pressing my head so hard it felt like my skull might shatter. He held me immobile, a knee in my back while Negan selected his next victim. He stopped in front of Noah, and I trashed wildly, trying to dislodge the incredible weight on top of me, but it was all in vain. His wife screamed as the bat sailed through the air, and I couldn't stop one of my own.

"Alex?"

Beth stood in front of me with Sasha hovering close behind. Both women looked surprised to find me here, but I was more concerned with the blonde widow. She was the last person I wanted to see right now, and the thought made me burn with shame.

"Get Daryl," Beth instructed. Sasha nodded, turning and running for Barrington House. Beth approached me cautiously, like you would a wild animal. "Are you OK?"

Her words broke me, like a knife twisting in my gut. After everything she'd been through, most of which I was responsible for, she was still concerned about _my well-being_.

"I...Beth..." My eyes darted from her to the grave and back. "I...don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. I know it's not enough. If I could take it back..."

She knelt in front of me, tears falling freely. "It's not your fault."

Lie.

I shook my head, unable to bare her forgiveness. "I wish it was me. I would give anything to trade places so he could be here. I'll never forgive myself for..."

"Stop." Her voice snapped my mouth closed. I'd never heard her use that tone of voice. "Don't say that. _Don't ever say that._ What happened was no one's fault, but Negan's. He did this. Not you. Not Daryl. Not Rick."

It wasn't hard to imagine Rick and Daryl begging her forgiveness after that night. I'd imagine we all felt somewhat responsible. If we'd made different choices maybe things would have worked out differently?

"He always looked up to you," she said, putting her arm around me. Accepting comfort from her given the circumstances made me feel awful. It should be the other way around. "He never forgave himself for how he acted after Aiden died."

My eyes strayed to his grave. There was nothing to forgive.

"He told me when he met y'all in Atlanta that you spared his life." Funny, I remembered it the other way around. She laughed, but I heard the grief she tried to hide, "He knew on the sky bridge that you could have killed him if you wanted to. He said he never understood why you didn't, especially since he robbed you guys."

Because he was just a kid. Because it was unnecessary. Because for once in my life I wasn't a monster.

"You are my stars," I mumbled, and she pulled away with a sad, knowingly smile. She looked far older than her meager 20-plus-years.

"Without darkness you can't see the stars," she replied softly to my unasked question.

Her eyes drifted to his grave, a lone tear tracing its way down her cheek. With his dying breath he'd told his wife he loved her, in his own way, _in_ _their way_. He was telling her she would find a way through this darkness. Their love was born in a dark place, and had ended in one as well.

Her eyes flicked to me, and she silently studied me. I felt inadequate, exposed, and I didn't like it. There were muffled shouts in the distant, and she tilted her head to the side, giving me a small smile.

"I'm so glad you're back." She hugged me again, destroying another piece of my heart. "You're gonna be OK."

"How do you know?" I whimpered, hugging her as hard as I could.

"Because mountains don't rise without earthquakes."

Before I could process her words a group of people rounded the corner, sprinting towards us. Beth stood, stepping back to make way for what she knew was coming. My husband skidded to a stop, careful not to disturb the graves, eyes scanning me carefully for any new injury. He sighed in relief, squatting down and taking my face in his hands. Rick, Merle, Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Francine, Carl, Enid, Jesus, and Apocalypse Barbie hung back, all breathing hard.

Good lord, was everyone up?

"Red?"

It was a loaded question. Was I alright? What could he do? What the hell was I thinking leaving?

"I'm scared," I admitted, lips trembling.

He reacted instantaneously, crushing me to him. I slumped against his hard body, exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

"I gotcha. Just close your eyes," he whispered, arms solid around me, "I'll be scared for the both of us."

I wanted to believe there was a way back from this, but we both knew Negan broke something in me that could never be fixed.

* * *

 **Reunited and it feels so good! :)**

 **We get a little glimpse of what Daryl went through after escaping, as well as some additional scenes and information about Alex's time in captivity. I know there was a lot of angst in this chapter, but I hope it made sense considering the circumstances.**

 **The aftermath of this will play out in the next few chapters, but this is Alex we're dealing with so don't expect it to be too conventional.**

 **Until next time...**


	79. All Hail the King

**All Hail the King**

It was amazing what food, rest, and blinding anger could do for a person's overall well-being. It was equally amazing how one asshole could systematically trigger every violent tendency I possessed like it was his life calling.

I was scribbling furiously in a notebook Jesus had give me earlier, trying to tune out Gregory's nasally voice. I was fairly certain my rescuer expected me to use the notebook in a more "therapeutic manner", but everyone processed trauma differently, plotting and scheming was my way.

It was worth mentioning Rick only let me join the meeting when I promised not to kill the little weasel _pretending_ to run Hilltop. My husband was harder to sway. Everyone, myself included, knew I didn't have my shit together, but my choices boiled down to sitting here pretending like I was alright or be left to my own devices. Once Legolas realized option two equated to unlimited "free time" he promptly wrapped his large hand around my wrist, and drug me into the office.

Me and free time had a sketchy history.

"No, no way in hell! That was not the deal. You people _swore_ you could take The Saviors out, and you failed so any arrangement we had is now done. Null and void."

I was squeezing the pencil so tight it was liable to break in half. Better the pencil then Gregory's neck, or so I'd been told. I kept my head down, slumped in a chair, hoping not to draw any unwarranted attention. Daryl was beside me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring Gregory down. Merle was on my other side, cursing under his breath. It hadn't escaped my attention the brothers were strategically flanking me on either side.

"We aren't trade partners. We aren't friends. And...we never met," Gregory added. "We don't know each other. I owe you _nothing_. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees at great personal risk."

"Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place," Jesus fired back, "Your courage was inspiring."

His sarcasm made me snort, and I felt Daryl's eyes on me. I looked up, and he winked at me quickly before turning his attention back to Gregory. Once he did all hints of playfulness vanished in a flash replaced by his signature scowl that was known to send mere mortals running for their lives.

"Hey, don't you work for me? Aren't we friends?"

This guy was such an asshole it was difficult to wrap my head around it.

"Gregory, we already started this," Rick insisted.

"You started this."

" _We did_ and we're gonna win."

"They are killers."

"Is this how you want to live? Under their thumb? Killing your people?"

He probably did so long as it wasn't him they killed. It wasn't that he was selfish as much as he just didn't give a shit about anyone else.

"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like." I bent further over my paper, drawing and writing, anything to keep from breaking my pinky promise to Rick. "Sometimes _Ricky_ , you have to count-the-blessings-you-have."

There was an invisible clock counting down in my head. If it reached zero and this ass-clown was still talking bad things might happen.

"How many people can we spare?" Maggie asked, "How many people here can fight?"

Hmm, let me think, one, Jesus.

"We?" he scoffed, "I don't even know how many people we have...Margaret." My pencil snapped in half at the exact same time Merle's jaw snapped closed. "And does it even matter? What...what are you gonna do...start a platoon of sorghum farmers? Cause that's what we got...they grow things. They're not gonna want to fight."

"You're wrong," Tara replied, "When people have the chance to do the right thing they usually step up. I mean, people..."

"Let me stop you before you break into song OK." I slapped my notebook closed, finally looking at Gregory while the Dixon brother's closed ranks around me. "And, by the way, who would train all this cannon fodder?"

"Me."

"I will."

"Alex."

Three different people answered all at once, but I ignored them. Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie could train these people till the cows came home. I, myself, was going to be too busy killing Saviors to play Sensei.

" _Rh-etor-ical_ ," he laughed, sarcastically drawing out the word, "OK, I don't want to know. I never want to hear another word about any of it, ever."

"Would we be better off without The Saviors?" Rick barked, losing his patience for this crap. "Yes or no?"

"Yes, sure, OK," he conceded, but it was clear the admission meant little.

"So, what will you do to fix the problem?"

How Deadpool was able to ask the question without her hands wrapped around his throat was a mystery.

"I didn't consider that a problem. You did. And what happens outside of my purview, is...outside of my purview."

My hand curled around the hilt of a knife so slowly neither brother noticed. Well, that and they were both well on their way to maiming Gregory all on their own.

"What the hell man?!" Daryl exploded, pushing off the wall. I drew the knife, scooching forward until I was on the edge of my seat. "Yur either with us or ya ain't. Yur sittin' over there talkin' outta both sides of yur mouth."

I had no idea if that was possible, or what it meant, but I agreed wholeheartedly.

Gregory stood, fiddling with his suit jacket. "I think I've made my position very clear, and I want to thank all of you for not being here today and not having this meeting with me or being seen on your way out." He paused like an asshole. "In other words, go out the back."

He looked around the room with a smug grin on his face, and my control snapped just like my pencil. I flew out of my chair, throwing the knife before Daryl or Merle even registered what was happening, ignoring the stab of pain in my shoulder.

The blade sailed passed Gregory too fast for him to track, but instincts caused him to jump in the opposite direction with a girly scream. The knife hit the wall behind him, embedded in some 1700's monstrosity that was masquerading as artwork. It was worse than the painting back in Atlanta that reminded Daryl of dog's asses.

Rick turned slowly, cop eyebrow staring at me disapprovingly. I paid him and his eyebrow no mind. I promised not to kill him, and I hadn't so he could put the cop eyebrow away. If I wasn't allowed to throw pointy objects then he should have been more specific with his pinky promise.

No one else moved, everyone holding their breath as I stalked forward. I moved around the enormous desk, eyes never straying from Gregory who was shaking, huddled in a chair. I slowly curled my hand around the knife, pulling it out, making a point of slicing through the bottom half of the painting just to be a complete bitch.

"Is this your idea of recruiting?" he asked, eyes terrified.

"Recruiting would imply I want you on our team." His mouth dropped open in outrage. "You're not an ally. You're in my way. You can move on your own or I can do it for you."

"Do you realize the kind of power The Saviors have?" He looked around, desperate for rescue from the crazy lady. "With that kind of power what chance do we have?"

I stopped in front of him, pointing at him with the knife. " _What chance_? The question is _what_ _choice_?"

He swallowed hard, but wisely kept his trap shut. Shaking my head in disgust I put my knife away, pivoting on my heel, and striding out of the room without another word.

A few seconds later Sasha stomped out, grumbling under her breath. "You have a bit of an anger management problem, but that was the highlight of my week."

Saying I had an anger management problem was like saying Bruce Lee had a Kung Fu problem. It wasn't a problem if you were the best at it.

"You're welcome," I said with a smile.

Daryl was the last to leave, "We don't need him anyway."

"Yeah, that's right cause we have Maggie, Sasha, Beth, Glenn, and Jesus here. We got Alex back."

I fidgeted when all eyes strayed in my general direction. Daryl slipped his hand into mine, giving it a squeeze in a show of silent support.

"And Enid," Maggie added just as the girl herself walked through the front door.

"Hey, um..."

"What's wrong?" Deadpool asked.

"Nothing, just...come outside."

"Every horror movie I ever watched started just like this," Merle drawled, a thumb hooked in his jeans.

I laughed, and Daryl smiled down at me, happy to see me happy. Maggie led us outside where we were met by a group from the Hilltop.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Hey, so, if you don't remember I'm Birdie, and I owe my life to you all twice over. Enid says you want to get us to fight The Saviors with you, is that true?"

Apparently Enid was using her free time more productively than I would have.

"Yes."

"Do you think we can win? That we, really could beat them? _Us_?"

It was still shocking to me some people had survived this long without fighting, but here I stood, looking at an entire group who'd done just that.

"I do," Maggie answered without hesitation, Glenn standing tall beside her.

Birdie looked passed Maggie at me. "Do you?"

I knew why she was asking. I'd been taken by their worst nightmare and lived to tell the tale. My stance on our chances would be weighed heavily.

"Yeah, we can win," I replied. I kept the part about a lot of people dying in the process to myself. No need to ruin their newfound enthusiasm.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Enid says you could show us the way. I'm ready."

A chorus of "me too's" and "yeah's" followed Birdie's statement. Our group looked at each other, sharing smiles for the first time since we crossed paths with The Saviors. I even saw Carl and Enid making eyes at each other, and made a mental note to pull him aside, soon. "The talk" may be embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as teenage pregnancy.

We made our way to the main gate, the group discussing our decided disadvantage in terms of numbers. I glanced at Daryl who was biting his thumbnail. He'd yet to mention The Kingdom to anyone but me. I wasn't sure why, but he had his reasons and that was good enough for me.

"It's a start," Deadpool said, hand joined with Rick. Those two were so cute it made me wanna puke. "We'll get more."

"It still won't be enough," Tara commented.

"No, it won't." Apocalypse Barbie was next level grumpy today.

"Well, we find the right stuff, then maybe we don't need the numbers." Oh, I liked where Daryl was going with this. "Blow 'em up, burn 'em to the ground."

"I'm in," I agreed, almost giddy with excitement.

"Holy Hell we're all gonna die."

I glared at Merle who simply smirked. Bantering with him felt good. I couldn't handle people treating me with kid gloves. If that meant putting up with my asshole brother-in-law then so be it.

"You said there weren't just soldiers with the Saviors, that there were workers there," Tara said, face pale as she looked at me. "People didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," I ground out, unable to hold her gaze.

Yes, there were people at The Sanctuary who didn't want to be there, but they chose to stay. Daryl was right, you were either with us or against, and anyone with The Saviors was firmly in the latter category.

"We gotta win," my husband declared firmly. What he didn't add was we were going to do it no matter the cost.

"We need more hands, another group. Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they come looking for Daryl or Alex, we need to be there," Rick said, stopping outside the main gate.

"You don't have to get back. Not yet." We all stopped, turning to face Jesus. He held up a small, portable walkie talkie. "It's one of theirs, long range. We can listen in. Keep track of them."

He was right. I'd used one when I escaped, but mine was inoperable after my little swim in the river.

"How the hell ya get that boy?" Merle was distrustful of anyone who didn't share his last name.

"In the chaos after Alex's escape," he replied, grinning at me. "Just like Ricks' gun."

Glad the experience was fun for somebody cause it sucked big, fat donkey balls for me.

"So, if we're not going back, what are doing then?" Deadpool pondered.

"Bombs!" I shouted, rubbing my hands together excitedly. Daryl sighed, shaking his head.

"No bombs," Rick countered and my shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Not yet anyway."

"I think it's time we introduce you to Ezekiel." Jesus' eyes landed on Daryl who nodded curtly. Alright, apparently _that_ cat was out of the bag. "King Ezekiel."

"King?" Rick said in disbelief.

"He has a tiger." Rick glanced at me in surprise. "What?"

"How do you know he has a tiger?"

"Everyone knows that." You couldn't call yourself a king and _not_ _have a tiger._

"Is that where you were?" Rick's question was directed at Daryl.

He nodded, continuing to bit his thumbnail in silence. The tension was...uncomfortable. The fact Daryl hadn't shared the information regarding King Ezekiel or his tiger bothered Rick. It was probably some kind of bro code violation.

"I asked him to keep it to himself," Jesus admitted, drawing Rick's attention, "They agreed to hide him, give him medical care, in exchange for silence. They took a huge risk. We owed them that."

Rick pursed his lips. "So why tell us now?"

"Things have changed."

We needed two cars to transport everyone to The Kingdom. We stopped outside what appeared to be a school, but had seen better days. Just once, could we go somewhere that didn't look like a set straight from a horror flick?

As soon as the car stopped I pushed Daryl out of the car. With this many people crammed into a vehicle with less than optimal personal hygiene BO was far more likely to kill us than anything else. While Jesus waxed philosophically with Rick and Daryl I pulled Carl aside.

"What's up?" In lieu of answering him I reached into my back pocket, pulling out a condom and handing it to him. His eyes got huge, face quickly approaching the color of my hair. "Aunt Alex, why are you giving me this?"

"Are you or are you not ' _with'_ Enid?" My air quotes made him roll his eyes. Teenagers.

"We're..."

"Exactly." I pointed at the condom which he promptly shoved in his jeans. "Use it. I have more if you need them."

"We...I...It..."

"You want to, eventually, right?" He blushed hard, but nodded, confirming what I already knew. "You haven't yet, have you?"

Please say no, please say no, please say no. I was too young to be a great-Aunt.

"No!"

Rick and Deadpool glanced in our direction, eyebrows furrowed.

"It's nothing," I assured them, pulling Carl further away. "What _have_ you done?"

"Oh my god," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. "We've only kissed, I swear."

Thank god.

"Well, kissing leads to...other stuff. Before you know it you're rounding second base, and nine months later you're a dad."

Carl frowned, "I don't think that's how the bases work?"

"It's not?"

"No."

"Then what's second base?"

"How the hell should I know?" he exclaimed.

"Whatever," I said, waving him off, "One of the bases leads to the promise lands which is why you need the condom."

"This is the worst safe sex talk in history." He wasn't wrong. He bit his lip, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby before saying, "Can I ask you something?"

"You're asking that _now,_ after what we just talked about?"

"Wasn't like you gave me much choice." True, but still. "I really like her, a lot, but I don't want to screw it up, you know?"

Not really.

"Sure." He stared at me, waiting, for what I had no idea. "What?"

"This is the part where you give me advice about relationships."

Dear lord someone save me.

I cleared my throat to buy myself some time. I didn't know jack about relationships. In my entire life I'd had a grand total of one.

"Don't do anything you aren't prepared to explain to a doctor," I offered, pretty proud of myself for my quick thinking.

Carl froze for a beat then took a long, deep breath. "That was truly awful."

"I know."

"I think we're done here."

"I agree." He immediately turned to leave, but stopped, turning around and hugging me, careful of my injuries. "Thanks. I appreciate it Aunt Alex...even if it was the most embarrassing moment of my life so far."

I hugged him back. "You're welcome, and it was mine too."

"I love you."

My eyes got misty, and my voice high pitched. "I love you too."

We returned to the group, and Daryl eyed me expectantly.

"Just some shop talk," I lied.

"Ya don't know shit about shop talk."

I sighed, "Fine, we were talking about sex."

He choked on nothing but air so I pounded him on the back.

"What the hell ya talkin' 'bout that for?"

"Did you see him and Enid holding hands?" He nodded, but held his hands up as if to say, and? "Trust me, first it's holding hands then it's holding other things."

"She ain't wrong," Merle drawled, toothpick in his mouth, eyes fixed on the horizon.

"For fuck's..."

Daryl's exclamation was cut off when a pair of men on horses appeared. One of them was even brandishing a long sword, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. It was going to be a long, freakin' day. The closer they got the more I frowned, positive I was seeing things, again.

"Why are they dressed for laser tag?" I asked.

Jesus pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Merle didn't even try, rocking back on his heels and laughing like a maniac.

"I think its armor actually."

"You can put makeup on a cow, but it's still a cow." Jesus frowned while my husband made a distressed sound in the back of his throat. "Wait, I think the makeup's on a different animal?"

"Do yurself a favor and stop talkin' Firecarcker," Merle said with a sad shake of his head.

Thankfully I was saved from the language of redneck by the two dorks on horseback.

"Who dares to trespass on the sovereign land of the..." The one with the sword trailed off, squinting as they drew closer. "Oh shit, Jesus, is that you?"

"Who are all these people Paul?"

"Paul?" I repeated, grinning at the man in question.

He shrugged, blowing right past his given name, focusing on the men. "Hi, Richard, nice to see you."

"It's good to see you, too. Daryl." Richard nodded at my husband briefly before his eyes traveled over each of us. "Your friends, who are they?"

"This is Rick Grimes. He's the leader of a like-minded community, Daryl's community." Clearly Legolas made an impression on these people because Richard's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "These are some of his people. We would like to request an audience with King Ezekiel."

 _Request an audience with King Ezekiel_...if I made it through this without stabbing someone I better get a medal.

"Get the rest of your people out of the cars," Richard ordered, dismounting. "You say they're a like-minded community? Like-minded how?"

We kick ass and take names.

"We live. We trade. We fight the dead. Sometimes others."

Or that.

Richard thought about it briefly before ordering us to line up shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the laser tag duo which Merle didn't particularly like.

"This is a waste of time. Let's go," he sneered.

"Maybe you're right. The King is a busy man." I grabbed Merle's arm, eyes pleading. It wasn't like we had a lot of options. "And it's a dangerous world. We don't usually allow a pack of strangers to waltz through our door."

"We want to make the world less dangerous, and we are here to show the King how serious we are about that," Deadpool said, voice brimming with confidence.

"The cars stay outside." Richard gestured to Rick. "You gotta hand over your guns."

"We only have two," he responded.

That made me sick. It was a reminder of all The Saviors had taken. All my weapons were still in their possession. The few knives I had on me were borrowed from the Hilltop. I hadn't gotten used to them yet. They were awkward, the weight, size, and shape drastically different than my previous set. And don't get me started on not having my PPQ.

"Red," Daryl said, nudging me with his shoulder.

"Sorry," I mumbled, falling into step at the back of the group.

Rick hung back for a beat, leaning over to me. "No bombs and no knives. We need these people on our side."

I sighed, "You suck the fun out of everything."

"Alex."

"Fine, got it." He gave me his trademark cop eyebrow, holding out his pinky finger, and I obediently added, "No bombs and no knives."

Inside the gates The Kingdom was alive with activity. People were milling about, gardening, working, talking, and even training for the laser tag Olympics. Clothes lines were hung across an open courtyard and their numerous gardens appeared to be thriving. Kids were seated under a large oak tree at a picnic table reading and laughing.

"They have the numbers," Deadpool marveled.

People were one thing. Fighters were another. I wasn't getting my hopes up until I was sure how many of _those_ they had.

I looked to my left and right, backtracking a few steps so I could peek behind a building before going up on the tips of my toes in order to see over a fence.

"What the hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked.

"Looking for the tiger." Duh.

He rolled his eyes with practiced precision. "It ain't out here roamin' 'round."

That was mildly disappointing.

"I was promised a tiger, and I want to see a tiger."

"I ain't leavin' till I see it neither," Merle drawled. I held my fist out, and he immediately bumped it with his own.

"Jesus Christ, I liked it better when y'all hated each other," my husband muttered, leaving us to Carmen San Diego the location of the missing tiger on our own.

We abandoned our search a few minutes later, rejoining the group just as Jesus said, "Oh, they can fight."

"Maybe," Daryl added, hands on his hips.

These people may have learned to fight when the world ended, but Daryl had been fighting long before that. It would take a hell of a lot more than words to convince him of their competence.

"If this war involves a game of laser tag we'll definitely kick their ass," I mumbled making my brother-in-law chuckle while everyone else sighed heavily. I hooked a thumb at Merle. "At least he thinks I'm funny."

"Morgan?" Tara said with a genuine smile. I'd almost forgotten he was here.

"Hey," he said, hugging her. He seemed uneasy seeing us here, and my gut clenched nervously. The man was a steadfast pacifist, and that, could be an issue. "Hi."

One-by-one everyone greeted him until it was my turn. He studied me carefully for a moment. The bruises on my face were healing, but still noticeable against my pale skin. There was simply no way to hide them, but I'd taken care to wear a long sleeved t-shirt to cover the bandages on my arms, and if I walked slowly my limp was barely noticeable.

"I'm glad you're OK," he said, opening his arms.

"I missed you too Mr. Miyagi." He patted my back carefully.

"The king is ready to see you," Richard announced.

Everyone filed into the auditorium while Rick, Daryl, and I stayed outside with Mr. Miyagi.

"After she healed from the gunshot she took off," he said, explaining Carol's current whereabouts.

"Gunshot?" Rick exclaimed.

"It was just a graze. I got her back here. They got doctors. They're good."

"Was it them?" Rick asked. Them, being The Saviors.

"It was," he confirmed, "She crossed with some of them, and one of them followed her, tried to kill her, but I stopped him. I killed him. I had to." His voice broke, lips trembling. The act and the admission cost him more than we could comprehend. "Carol was here. She got help. Now she's gone."

Rick nodded, accepting the fact she'd run, again. The two friends walked inside, but I grabbed Daryl's hand.

"Are you alright?"

"Gotta be," he snapped, voice bitter. I stepped into his personal space, cupping his face in my hands. He wasn't OK, not by a long shot. His breathing shuttered, eyes boring into mine. "Why's she always run?"

"Because she's scared."

"Bein' out there alone is what she should be scared of."

My hand threaded through his hair to the back of his head as I pulled him to me. He didn't understand. She wasn't afraid of The Kingdom or The Saviors. She was scared of what she might be forced to do. She was scared of herself.

"She'll be OK," I assured him. "And she'll be back."

It was reckless to promise that. He was right. She could die out there, but she was a capable survivor. I believed she'd make it. I believed she'd come back. I kissed his lips gently, the two of us walking inside hand-in-hand.

"Jesus! It pleases me to see you old friend!"

If I had any doubt who King Ezekiel was the throne he was sitting on and the huge freakin' tiger at his side cleared it up real quick.

"It pleases him indeed!" his sidekick wearing a red quilt repeated like a loser.

I was so mesmerized by the tiger I stumbled, mouth hanging open. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jerry," the King barked with a small eye roll. Oh, I liked him already.

My feet decided they wanted a closer look at the tiger, and I stared moving, but Daryl quickly slid a finger in my belt loop, pulling me back.

"Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel?" Points deducted for referring to himself in the third person. "Are these new allies you've brought me?"

"At least he ain't sportin' a sweater vest," Merle whispered making everyone nod in unison. We didn't have a good track record with sweater vests.

"Indeed they are Your Majesty," Jesus said.

The tiger roared and I bounced up and down on my toes, aching legs be damned. While Jesus introduced us Rick turned, quickly addressing the group.

"Should I bow?"

"Absolutely," I replied instantly, "He's a king."

Rick turned to Daryl who opened and closed his mouth a few times. I elbowed him in the gut, and he cleared his throat, answering with a, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Rick nodded, turning and leading us down the center aisle, stopping a few feet from the stage then bowing dramatically. We all started laughing as King Ezekiel frowned, waving him off.

"Oh no my friend, there is no need for that here." Rick stood slowly, turning and glaring at me which only made me laugh harder. Deal with it. It was this or I wallow in self-pity while randomly blowing shit up. "I welcome you all to The Kingdom, good travelers."

"Do they always talk like this?" Sasha asked Daryl.

"Yeah."

"That's gonna get old quick," Apocalypse Barbie grumbled.

"What brings you to our fair land?"

King Ezekiel was a warm man in his mid-50's with long, slightly graying dreadlocks and a full beard. Aside from the fact he made you address him as "King", and had a pet tiger, he looked pretty unremarkable. My psycho radar wasn't picking anything up from him or his people.

"Why do you seek an audience with the King?" he asked, smiling at us kindly.

"Ten bucks says Rick fucks this up," Merle whispered to me and his brother.

"You're on," I agreed. Rick had come a long way since his initial Rick-tator-ship speech. He could do this.

"Ezekiel," he began then instantly backtracked, coughing uncomfortably. Or he couldn't. "King Ezekiel, Alexandria, Hilltop, The Kingdom, all three of our communities have something in common. We all serve The Saviors. Now, Alexandria already fought them once and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them, that you know them."

Ezekiel's eyes cut to Jesus. His stare was a clear accusation. I think, I mean I wasn't sure, _but I think_ , that last part was a secret.

"Your Majesty, I told them of the..."

"Our deal with The Saviors is not known among our people." Come again? I shifted my weight from one foot to another, not liking where this was going. Jesus looked even less comfortable. "We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltops own travails, but we did not expect you to share..."

"We can help each other," Jesus insisted.

"Don't. Interrupt. The. King." Jerry and his quilt were starting to piss me off.

"What the fuck's travails mean?" Merle asked, unconcerned with the escalating tension in the room.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, refusing to play dictionary for the confused redneck.

"We brought you into our confidence," Ezekiel continued, "Why did you break it?"

"Because I want you to hear Rick's plan," he admitted.

Ezekiel turned his stern gaze on Rick. "And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?"

"We came to ask the Kingdom, to ask you, to join us in fighting the Saviors, fighting for freedom for all of us."

"What you are asking is very serious," he countered.

"The price of freedom has always been high," I said, drawing the king's attention.

"And you are?"

"Alex Dixon."

His eyes slid to Daryl, head cocked to the side. "Dixon?"

"Yeah, married, it was beautiful, can we focus." Our group tensed at my outburst, and Jerry bristled next to the King, but Ezekiel surprised everyone when he grinned.

"Last time your husband was with us you were in the hands of The Saviors."

I narrowed my eyes, "Is there a question there?"

Rick sucked in a harsh breath, silently asking me to tone it down. I shut my mouth, grinding my teeth together because he was right. I was out of line. It wasn't Ezekiel I wanted to murder.

"Several of our people...good people...were killed by The Saviors, brutally," Deadpool added, sweeping in to save the conversation with grace I could never hope to possess.

"Who?" Mr. Miyagi asked, frowning. I glanced at Daryl who kept his eyes down. He hadn't told him.

"Abraham. Noah." Apocalypse Barbie was barely able to get their names out without crying. "Spencer, Olivia, and they have Eugene now. They took Alex, tortured her, _for weeks_. They brought her to Alexandria, beaten, bloody, barely able to stand on her own." Daryl growled in fury, gripping the back of the seat in front of him hard. She meant well, but I didn't need this. _I didn't want this_. "He taunted us with her captivity. Dared us to do something, and we did _nothing_...but she did. She escaped, and every second she's out she's a target."

Mr. Miyagi looked at me, face ashen, lips trembling. Our viewpoints were on opposite ends of the spectrum, but hearing the details of my incarceration and our lost friends gutted him.

"You gonna say you were right?" she taunted.

"No," he replied, "I...I'm just real sorry they're gone." His eyes strayed to me. "I'm sorry for all of it."

"Negan murdered Abraham and Noah, beat them to death," Rick added.

Sasha stepped forward. "He terrorized the Hilltop. Set loose walkers just to make a point."

"I used to think the deal was something we could live with." Ezekiel listened to Jesus, but it was hard to tell which way he was leaning. "A lot of us did, but that's changing so let's change the world Your Majesty."

"I wanna be honest about what we're asking. My people are strong, but there's not enough of us. We don't have guns, not enough at least. Not a lot of weapons period."

Rick's eyes found mine, and I ground my teeth together. I was probably the only one in this room that didn't need a weapon to be dangerous.

"We have people _and_ weapons," Richard said confidently. They also had laser tag gear coming out of their ears. "If we strike first, together, we can beat them." He turned to face his king. "Your Majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse beyond what we can handle. We set things right. The time is now."

Ezekiel said nothing for a moment before his heavy gaze settled on Mr. Miyagi, and I held my breath.

"Morgan, what say you?"

"Oh shit," Merle groaned.

"Me?" He didn't want to be the swing vote. Hell, he didn't want to be _any_ vote.

"Speak."

"People will die. A lot of people, and not just the Saviors. It...if we can find another way, we have to." Rick bowed his head in disappointment. "Maybe it's just about Negan... just capturing him, holding him. Maybe I..."

Ezekiel stood and so did the tiger with a ferocious growl that made goosebumps break out on my skin. "The hour grows late, Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the King much to ponder."

"Well, when I was a kid, uh, my mother told me a story. There was a road to a kingdom, and there was a rock in the road, and people would just avoid it, but horses would break their legs on it and die, wagon wheels would come off. People would lose the goods they'd be coming to sell. That's what happened to a little girl. The cast of beer her family brewed fell right off. It broke. Dirt soaked it all up, and it was gone. That was her family's last chance. They were hungry. They didn't have any money. She just sat there and cried, but she wondered why it was still there...for it to hurt someone else. So she dug at that rock in the road with her hands till they _bled_ , used everything she had to pull it out. It took _hours_ , and then...when she was gonna fill it up, she saw something in it. It was a bag of gold."

"Alright," Jerry grinned. What a nerd.

"The king had put that rock in the road because he knew the person who dug it out, who did something, they deserved a reward. They deserved to have their life changed for the good...forever."

Ezekiel listened intently, waiting a moment after he was done before stating, "I invite you to sup with us and stay till the morrow."

"The fuck is sup?" Merle asked, unable to follow the conversation since it wasn't in redneck.

"Maybe it means meet the tiger," I answered, swatting Daryl's hand away when he pinched my side.

"We need to get back home," Rick countered.

Ezekiel narrowed his bushy eyebrows. "I shall deliver my decree on the morrow."

He tapped his stick twice which was a King's equivalent of a mic drop. Rick looked highly annoyed, but there was little he could do as the King and his entourage strolled off the stage.

"Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?" I asked Rick.

The laugh that bubbled out of him was unexpected, but amazing. Some of the tension in the group dissolved instantly while we watched Richard and Jesus talking quietly in a corner, no doubt discussing housing arrangements.

To say dinner was awkward was like saying Merle was mildly inappropriate. We were ushered to the head table as "guests of the King". The banquet hall, yeah banquet hall, was overflowing with people. The heat in the small room was stifling with all the bodies packed in, a constant murmur of voices blending together and making my head pound.

There were only two exits, neither of which I was sitting close to, and there were two men acting as guards for the King standing directly behind me. Both scenarios were making my PTSD flare with a vengeance. My mind was going haywire. There were too many people, too much noise, too much light, _too much of everything_.

The one thing there wasn't was a tiger which was a disappointment. I felt cheated.

Daryl sat on my right, Merle beside him with Rick and Deadpool on Ezekiel's other side. The rest of our group was scattered on either side, absolutely no one enjoying our first "sup". Navigating the cutlery alone required a PhD and a minimum of 10-years' experience. Why would anyone need three forks?

"Lady Alex, you appear agitated."

I turned to Ezekiel, trying my damndest not to roll my eyes. That was probably a capital offense when directed at a fake King. Didn't King Henry VIII kill all his wives for far less?

"I don't like crowds," I admitted. Or strangers. Or places with only two exits. Or having no weapons save the knife strapped to my waist and the butter knife Daryl was discreetly trying to pry out of my other hand. "And please don't call me lady. Just Alex is fine."

"Then you shall call me Ezekiel." He said it like I didn't already plan on doing just that, but sure, OK.

"Great," I smiled, sweat beading on my forehead from anxiety. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, we are friends are we not?"

I smiled uncomfortably. I had no idea what we were yet.

"How many people did you have to kill to get this place?"

Rick choked on whatever he was eating, Daryl froze with a fork halfway to his mouth, and Deadpool eyes bulged in disbelief. For his part Ezekiel barely reacted save a slight twitch of his lips that told me he got my particular brand of humor, although, to be fair, I wasn't kidding.

"Many," he finally answered, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

"I'll bet." This place was enormous. No way he was able to take it or kept it without bloodshed. "Although you do have a tiger which kinda feels like cheating."

Rick's face was turning blue. Deadpool might want to consider focusing on him rather than me because I think he needed the Heimlich. My husband gave up any pretense of trying to sensor me, returning his full focus to eating though I did notice he had a knife in his opposite hand, discreetly hidden under the table. Hopefully that was for someone other than me.

Ezekiel's answering smile was enormous. He tipped his head back, laughing so hard tears fell from his eyes.

"Oh Alex, yes, you and I will be great friends." If you say so. It took him a few more seconds to gather himself. "I was saddened to hear of your time with The Saviors."

He made it sound like my Caribbean timeshare was ruined by the rainy season.

"Yeah, it pretty much sucked."

"Negan is a particularly troubled man." Was that another name for jizz-stain?

"Can we cut the bullshit?"

A hush fell over the hall. Daryl choked on his roll, his brother pounding on his back to dislodge it while Rick sent me a warning glare over Ezekiel's head. Whatever. He tried to sway him with a monologue, and it didn't work. It was time to try a different approach.

"Please," he said, waving his hand as an invitation for me to continue, sending the crowd a stern glare.

Everyone immediately turned their attention back to their table, hushed conversation sweeping back through the hall that drowned out our exchange.

"You don't like your situation any more than we do." I was careful to speak in generalities since he was lying to his people. "If you think it won't bite you in the ass sooner or later you're delusional."

Jerry moved forward, but the King raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Not often am I addressed in such a manner by one below my station."

"I'm not here for Comic Con so you can drop the Shakespearean role-play. I see what you've built here, and I can imagine what you've gone through to keep it." The man may have a flare for the dramatic, but he was smart and capable. "You wouldn't have every able bodied person training from sun up till sundown if you weren't expecting a fight at some point."

"There are many in this world who seek to take what we have," he replied curtly.

"And there are some you give it to willingly."

He took a long, deep breath. "You know not what you ask of us."

"I'm probably the only one who truly does," I fired back, pointing at myself. "You think you know how bad it can get?" I shook my head. "You have _no idea_ who you're in bed with. If you stay there you're as good as dead, and so is everyone in this room."

I didn't realize I'd bolted from my seat until I stopped in a hallway, panting, hands braced on my knees. It was somewhat surprising there wasn't a Dixon or two hot on my heels, but I was glad for the brief reprieve so I could pull myself together. When I heard the low snarl my ears perked up, and I followed the sound.

The tiger was in a huge cage in the center of a room, pacing restlessly back-and-forth. The animal was clearly well cared for, bowls of food and water sitting full in her cage. I sat down against the wall, watching.

"I see you've met Shiva."

My eyes briefly flicked to Ezekiel before settling back on the tiger.

"How'd you convince Katniss and Captain Hook to let you track me down?"

He smiled, walking towards the cage. Shiva reacted immediately, getting close to the bars so he could pet her head gently.

"I politely asked if they would refrain from leaving while I sought you out to offer my apologies."

Translation, Rick was pinning Daryl down while Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie held Merle at gunpoint.

"Doesn't talking like that get exhausting?"

He tilted his head to the side, looking at me while still petting his tiger. "Very." I raised my eyebrows. "But it is a necessary evil."

"Whatever you say," I sighed, on to more pressing issues. "Where did you get a tiger?" And was there any chance I could get one?

He chuckled, "I was a zookeeper once upon a time. We formed a bond when I saved her life."

"You put a whole new spin on go big or go home." A tiger must be the ultimate trump card when it came to dick measuring.

He dropped his hand, turning to face me. "You are upset."

"That's one way of putting it." He waited patiently for me to continue. "You're not going to join us. You're not going to fight."

He took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a thin line. "This road we are on remains a mystery even to me, a King, but I cannot afford to put my community in harm's way." He shook his head. "For now, the best solution is to maintain the status quo."

"Meaning The Saviors take what they want, kill who they want, while you stand by and let it happen?" His eyes hardened, but I kept going. "Doesn't sound like the actions of a King to me."

"You fail to understand..."

"Don't tell me I don't understand!" I roared, on my feet in an instant. Shiva growled menacingly in response to my anger. "You think it will be fine, but not this time around. You can't run forever...eventually you run out of places to hide."

I was exhausted, bone weary. Having to convince people to fight against tyranny sucked the hope right out of me. There was a time not that long ago when this nation would have stood untied against this kind of oppression without question, without hesitation.

I suppose that idea died the day the dead rose.

"What will you do?" he asked softly, stopping me before I walked out the door. "Are you willing to start a war you might not win?"

"The war's already begun." I glanced at him over my shoulder. "The only one who doesn't know it is you."

* * *

 **Well, The Kingdom has finally made an appearance. There will be some changes from the show going forward that I hope you all enjoy.**

 **What did you think of Alex and Ezekiel? Any predictions about what's to come?**

 **Thank you all for being so understanding about last week. Again, I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted. Hopefully you enjoyed it.**


	80. Next to Me

**Next to Me**

Our room for the evening used to be a classroom if the whiteboard on the wall was any indication. It was sparsely furnished with a small bed that was pushed against the far wall, a nightstand, and two chairs positioned in opposite corners. It definitely wasn't going to win any HGTV awards, but at least it wasn't a cell. I was all about the silver lining these days.

Daryl was seated on the bed, shoulders hunched as he bit his thumbnail, long hair covering most of his face. He straightened when the door closed, rolling his shoulders, a sure sign he was on edge. I knew what was coming. I also knew neither of us was ready for it.

"Ezekiel's going to say no," I stated, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him.

He grunted in response, giving nothing away. If he was surprised or angry by the declaration I couldn't tell. For a few minutes we sat in absolute silence, him deep in though and me dreading the next words out of his mouth. When he started talking it was so quiet I had to strain to hear him.

"I ain't a good man. I know that...but I spent my life tryin' to stay outta my father's shadow." I swallowed hard, eyes fixed on my hands sitting in my lap. This wasn't how I expected this to go. "Ain't never wanted to be like that sumbitch, but now...I got this feelin' inside me...I can't get rid of it no matter what I do."

He took a slow, deep breath like he was fighting the urge to unleash incredible violence. He was a dangerous man. It was in his DNA. He spent most of his time trying to combat his nature. If he gave into those feelings the world would burn by sunrise.

"I wanna kill 'em all. I wanna end their fuckin' lives with my bare hands. I wanna make 'em suffer. I don't give a rat's ass if it ends up getting' the whole group killed so long as I get to hunt 'em down like fuckin' dogs." I sucked in a ragged breath, my body shaking at his admission. "At the same time I wanna take ya and run, find a place for us to hide where that asshole can't never find us. I ain't thinkin' 'bout the group, what that would do to 'em. Yur all I care 'bout."

In all the years I'd known him this was the most I'd heard him speak in one sitting. He confided in me more than anyone, but even now, after all we'd been through, it was in short, clipped sentences where I inferred more than he actually said. Not this time. Right now, he was an open book. I saw every emotion on his haggard face, and felt every painful word like a physical blow.

"I look in yur eyes and all I see is pain." I slid my hand out of my lap, interlacing our fingers. He shuttered, his large fingers squeezing in return. "Yur pretendin' everythin' a'right, but it ain't. I can't sit here no more and watch ya like this and do nothin'."

He was right. I'd yet to confront what happened to me. The war, alliances, planning moves and countermoves; it was enough to keep me occupied while ignoring my demons and my pain. I was pretending like I was OK, and everyone was letting me because the alternative was something no one wanted to face, no one but Daryl. It wasn't that the group didn't care. It was simply that we had bigger problems.

"I need ya to know somethin'." I could feel his eyes on me and turned to face him. My lips trembled and his eyes softened, hand moving until it cupped my cheek tenderly. "Ya ain't the best part of my life. _Ya are my life."_

My chest shuttered, lips trembling as I opened my mouth to respond, but he shook his head.

"It ain't fair to ask ya, but I gotta know." His voice was low and gravely, and I rubbed my palms on my jeans, nervous energy making my body feel like a live wire. "All of it. I can't take not knowin'. I think...I think it's the only way I can stop myself from becomin' like him..."

He feared himself, what he could become, and I understood that. Our father's taught us the same lessons. Everything we knew about violence and abandonment stemmed from them. That was their legacy.

I took a moment to compose myself. I didn't want to do this, but I also couldn't stomach the thought of causing this man more pain. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant sparing him. I wasn't sure if filling in the blanks would make it better, but he was, and I trusted him. My subconscious was telling me he was doing this for me, not himself. He knew I needed to get it out, no matter what it cost him to hear it.

The tears built in the corner of my eyes even before I opened my mouth to speak. Fighting them was a fool's errand just like fighting the memories he was desperate to uncover so I let them fall. A long time ago we made a promise to each other, _anything but silence_ , and today I would honor that, even if it meant going back to Hell.

"After you escaped I was taken to a cell and stripped naked." His body went eerily still at my side, but I pressed on. That was hardly the worst thing he was likely to hear tonight. "It served two purposes, ensuring I had no means of escape and reinforcing my vulnerability. The lesson was clear, I survived at _his mercy_. I'd be allowed to live only so long as Negan allowed it."

Negan may be a sociopath, but he was a sociopath with an endgame. He did nothing without purpose and forethought. Hopelessness was the fuel that stoked a captive's compliance, and Negan had every intention of ensuring my hopelessness was a big, fucking bonfire. The prick.

"For the first few days I was left alone...in the dark...no food, no water, just darkness and music, the same song repeating over-and-over."

Even now I could hear the annoying tune in the back of my mind. It was constantly there, just like in the cell, and I wondered if I would ever be free of it. It was such an upbeat, happy, over-the-top tune which made it all the more excruciating.

 _ **We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet, cos the world is but a treat when you're on easy street...**_

I grabbed my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as I struggled to pull my mind out of the darkness. I felt Daryl's heavy arm on my shoulder, holding me close and made myself repeat what I knew.

I escaped The Saviors.

Daryl was right next to me.

I repeated this over-and-over until the song was nothing but a dull annoyance in the background. Throughout it all he said nothing. He simply held me, offering the only thing he could, his love.

"At first, I think they really believed they'd be able to find you, bring you back, but when it became clear that wasn't going to happen things changed."

"What kinda things?"

In a word, everything. Their focus shifted from finding my husband to replacing me with him. Their first order of business was breaking me down so they could rebuild me in their image. In freeing my husband I'd inadvertently put myself in the crossfire.

"They amped up the torture, physical, emotional, psychological, it was all in play. I was so cold...so cold..."

Every night since my escape I'd piled blankets on top of our bed in an effort to shake the bone chilling cold I couldn't seem to shake. It never helped. Somehow, even days removed, I still felt the frigid temperatures licking my exposed skin.

I escaped The Saviors.

Daryl was right next to me.

I took a few deep breaths, willing my mind to settle.

"Since they needed me alive they started feeding me...dog food." His growl was low and immediate. For my part I simply took another deep breath and pressed on. "He wanted me to submit, call myself Negan. When I refused..."

There was pain.

My hand drifted to my throat as the feeling of someone's hands cutting off my airflow manifested. I felt the brutal kicks to my ribs, and my body hunched over instinctively. My eyes slammed shut, the onslaught of punches colliding with my face making me wince. The metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth, and I cringed, wondering if I would ever be able to purge it.

"Hey." He lifted our joined hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. "Come back to me."

My chest was heaving when I looked at him. He looked stricken. He was the consummate fighter, but how did you fight an invisible enemy? He took slow, deliberate breaths, urging me with his eyes to do the same. I copied him, deep breath in, hold it for a second then release it slowly. After a few minutes my erratic heartbeat slowed, and I repeated my chant.

I escaped The Saviors.

Daryl was right next to me.

"That's it Red," he cooed, lips pressed into a hard line as he watched me struggle. "I'm right here...next to ya."

He pulled me to him as if to prove the truth of his statement. His body, his smell, his strength, I knew it better than I knew myself. His choice of words should have shocked me, but I'd stopped being surprised about his mind reading abilities somewhere around Senoia.

"Ain't gotta keep goin'..."

"No," I interrupted, "I want to."

That wasn't entirely true. _I needed to_. Keeping this locked inside was eating away at me. It wasn't until all my walls came tumbling down that I felt any semblance of relief. I couldn't stop now, not if I had any hope of making it through to the other side. Maybe, _just maybe_ , this was going to be what saved me.

"A'right."

I licked my lips, steeling my nerves for the rest part of the story. I had no idea what details Merle shared about my visit to Alexandria, but the smart money said it was lacking in details. My brother-in-law may have a fucked up way of showing affection, but he cared deeply for those in his inner circle. It would tear him apart to tell his little brother how close I'd come to execution.

"He thought you might be hiding in Alexandria so he took me there, threatened Rick and the others even though they insisted you weren't there." Turned out they were telling the truth. Daryl never ventured to his former home. Save a few days living in the woods he sought sanctuary in The Kingdom. "He wanted to be sure so Two-Face put a gun to the back of my head and pulled the trigger."

"Motherfucker..."

I could only shrug, like having someone play Russian roulette with my head wasn't that big of a deal.

"When he got to zero Two-Face pulled the trigger, and..." Nothing happened. "After that he was satisfied you weren't there so we left."

"I ain't...I don't..."

The guilt clouding his handsome face was unnecessary. No amount of guilt would change the past, and I regretted nothing. I made my choice a long time ago in the woods of Georgia when a redneck tried to steal my deer. _He was my choice._

"You should know something." He turned slightly, fighting tears I knew he'd never let fall, not while I was working so hard to get through this. "Loving you kept me alive."

He didn't move or breathe for a full minute, and I smiled at him. He squeezed his eyes closed briefly before hugging me hard. My fingers curled into the back of his shirt, the two of us hanging on to each other for dear life.

"Sayin' I love ya ain't enough, but it's all I got."

I sniffled, "I love you too Legolas."

After a few moments I pulled away, and he reluctantly released me. I stood, walking to the nightstand and picking up my notebook. He frowned when I offered to him, eyes bouncing from it to me, not following. I hadn't let anyone get close enough to see what was in it by design. He was hesitant to open it, asking my permission with a slightly raised eyebrow. My lips twitched in amusement, and I nodded.

"When we got back from Alexandria I was taken to see the doc, Harlan's brother, where I met Sherry." He drug his eyes away from the notebook, a look of pure rage slamming into place at the mention of the woman who betrayed his mercy. "She's one of Negan's wives now, married him to save Two-Face's life."

I could tell he was bursting with curiosity at _that_ development, or as close as Daryl Dixon came to such things, but he kept his lips sealed, eyes returning to the notebook. I continued, unable to sensor or stop now. The flood gates were officially open.

"I think she helped me escape."

"What makes ya think that?"

Who else would have risked their life for a virtual stranger? I'd been through all the possibilities, and she made the most sense.

"Someone slipped me a key, told me to run." I still remembered the uncertainty I'd felt holding the literal key to my salvation, and not knowing if it was a trap or a real chance at freedom. "She knew I was your wife, apologized for what happened in the burned forest. I think she thought...maybe if she helped me escape it would undo some of the horrible things she'd done."

He scowled, nostrils flaring. "Even if she helped ya it don't make up for what they done."

Translation, Two-Face and Sherry would get no quarter from our resident bowman. He turned his attention back to the notebook while I sat down and waited. He turned the pages slowly and I knew the moment he got to the "good part".

"Holy shit Red, this is..."

"Yeah."

He flipped the next few pages furiously, eyebrows raised. "How the hell ya get this?"

How indeed.

"After Alexandria Negan brought me to his room." The thought of me in Negan's personal space had my husband on his feet and pacing, the notebook a distant memory as it lay discarded on the bed. "He's a control freak, a micromanager. None of his people are privy to the full extent of his plan or details of his operation. It helps him keep them in line, submissive, dependent."

"So he's the only one who knows what the fuck is goin' on."

"Exactly," I confirmed, pointing at the notebook, "There were maps, notes, plans, all kinds of information sitting on his desk. I helped myself."

I'd made a point of stumbling the moment I saw the contents on the desk, pulling papers to the floor and bumbling about like the malnourished, beaten prisoner I was. All the while I was reading, memorizing, and cataloguing information that was literally at my fingertips. I may not be able to remember people's names, but I remembered what mattered, and this shit mattered.

"I thought ya was usin' this as a diary or some shit."

I snorted, "Everyone did."

In reality I was trying to get as much information on paper before I couldn't recall it.

"Ya got outpost locations, numbers of people, weapon cache locations, route information, and even fuckin' dates for pick-ups and drop-offs at the outposts."

"Yeah."

He smirked. "Ya got a plan dontcha?"

"You bet your tight ass I do." Ezekiel may not intend on joining the war effort, but I sure as shit did.

His amusement faded as quickly as it came. He closed the notebook, walking slowly towards me. My body tensed, throat going dry. The look on his face told me he knew there was more. It didn't surprise me. The man could _literally_ read my mind. I knew he'd see right through me and my weak attempt at misdirection.

He sat down, sliding back until we were shoulder-to-shoulder, his large hand coming down to cover my own. "What ain't ya tellin' me?"

Where to begin?

I hadn't told him that Negan's obsession with me went deeper than his desire to control us. I hadn't told him that while I wasn't raped it hadn't stopped his men from touching me. I hadn't told him that every time I saw Two-Face wearing his vest it was a comfort even though it was on the shoulders of my enemy. I hadn't told him that until someone slipped me a key I never even tried to escape because I was scared.

"I...um..."

His grip on my hand tightened slightly. "Ya can tell me anythin'."

Despite knowing with absolute certainty there was nothing I could say that would change the way he felt about me my mouth was bone dry. Licking my lips I took a steadying breath, rolling my shoulders to buy myself a few more seconds.

"I wasn't alone in my cell." I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head. Before he could jump to an alternate and sordid conclusion I forged on. "I saw...my sister."

He stilled, saying nothing because what did you say when someone told you they saw their dead sibling?

"Not just her," I added, "Hershel, T, Lori, Ariel, Noah." My voice cracked, and I was unable to look him in the eyes. "They were there. We talked to each other."

When he didn't immediately respond I looked up to find his mouth hanging open. This was why I'd yet to tell anyone about my mental instability.

"I know they weren't real." That appeared to put him at ease, if only a little. I may be chatting with dead people, but I was sane enough to know it wasn't real. Baby steps and all that shit. "It was my way of coping with the trauma or whatever, but when I was there, locked away, dying slowly, _it felt real_."

He said nothing, taking his time composing his next words. I, on the other hand, discreetly checked our room, making sure none of our recently deceased friends were lingering around. I hadn't seen them in a while, and maybe that meant I wouldn't see them again. I wasn't sure if that made me happy or sad.

"I get it."

Did he? Probably not, but he was with me nonetheless. That was love ladies and gentleman, your wife telling you she liked to chit-chat with dead people, and your husband telling you it was all good in the hood.

He resumed biting his thumbnail. "Couldn't even look at Beth when I got to Hilltop. She tried to talk to me, but I blew her off cause I was ashamed. I got her fuckin' husband killed and she was tryin' to make sure I was a'right."

I squeezed his hand. I knew the feeling. When she found me sobbing over their graves I wanted to dig my own right beside them. No one knew how the night would have played out if Daryl and I hadn't attacked, but we had, and it cost her husband his life.

"I want to kill them all," I admitted.

I'd seen The Sanctuary up close and personal. I knew not everyone living there was a combatant. Some were simply trying to survive this ugly world, trapped in a no-win situation so they kept their head buried in the sand, but I was beyond caring. I couldn't see past my own desire for revenge.

"Me too."

A tear trickled down my face because our admissions made me feel like we were too far gone. The only thing that distinguished us from The Saviors was our ability for mercy. I wasn't sure I was capable of that now and it scared me.

I laid my head on his shoulder, snuggling into him as he threw an arm around me. "I want to remember something that isn't awful."

Having your world ripped open only to be hastily put back together in a newer, uglier shape was a special kind of torment. The tears falling from my eyes barely registered. I didn't bother wiping them away because I knew more would take their place. I'd cried more in the past few days than I had in my entire life. I'd allow myself this weakness tonight. After that I was done crying which was probably a good thing because living in a constant state of dehydration was wearing me down.

"Ya sing when yur cleanin' weapons," he whispered, hand rubbing my arm soothingly.

"I do?" I didn't know that.

"Yeah," he chuckled lightly making me smile, "Cutest damn thing I ever saw."

My face scrunched up. I didn't really want to be called _cute_ , but if my options were that or crazy I'd take cute. Crazy came with too much fine print.

"Huh."

We sat in silence for a moment, and I felt myself dozing off. "The first time I saw ya it felt like someone hit me in the chest. Ya were so damn beautiful and fierce I could hardly breathe. I ain't never believed in that bullshit 'bout love at first sight, and then I saw ya. I took one look at ya, and knew."

"Knew what?" My exhaustion evaporated instantly and was replaced with a pounding heart.

"That ya were gonna change everythin'." I looked up at him, and he smiled down at me. I treasured these moments when he was like this, open and vulnerable. No one knew this side of Daryl Dixon but me, and that made me feel special. "Now that I got ya I ain't got no idea how I lived one day without ya."

The moment his lips touched mine all the awfulness consuming me disappeared leaving only the two of us. He pressed me into the mattress, his long, powerful body covering mine. My thoughts were coming in one word sentences like more, yes, and faster, but Daryl refused to rush. He took his time, eyes assessing me like I was prey which I supposed in this moment I was.

He kissed me passionately, like I was his everything. The searing intensity of his caress burned straight through me, from my lips to my toes. My fingers tightened on his arms as his tongue swept into my mouth. I moaned in pleasure, and suddenly his kiss turned desperate. It was the same desperation I'd heard in his voice when he'd asked me to tell him about The Saviors.

His hands dug into my hip as mine clawed at his back. He pulled away just enough to pull my shirt over my head, and then he was back, lips resuming their relentless assault. He was like a man starved, and I was his sole source of sustenance.

My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and I groaned in frustration when I fumbled them like a rookie. "Goddamnit son of a bitch."

"In a hurry Red?" he asked, leaning back and grinning down at me.

I grabbed either side of his shirt, and pulled. The flimsy buttons were no match for my horniness, and in seconds his chest was bare and my hands were happy.

"Guess so," he hummed, already unbuttoning my pants while kissing the most sensitive part of my neck, and making my toes curl.

"How are you able to multi-task like that?"

I couldn't remember my own name right now, but he could somehow kiss me _and_ unbutton things? Wow. Really, just wow.

His large hand cupped my breast as his lips covered mine, and I lost the ability to do anything other than whimper. I was panting, eyes squeezed closed while his hands worked me to a frenzy. I needed more, needed him inside me, now.

"Daryl, please," I begged, arching my back so I could press my chest to his.

He growled a response my brain was unable to decipher due to lust, but complied, kissing me, touching me, driving me wild. He was between my legs, body as ready as mine, and when I lifted my hips to meet his he swore harshly under his breath before driving into me.

"Fuck Red." Sweat was beading at his forehead, arms braced on either side of me to keep his weight off me while we found our rhythm. "Ya feel so damn good."

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, fingers digging into his shoulder. "I'm so close. Don't stop."

He changed his angle, hips slammed into mine, our eyes locked, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. The exquisite pleasure that had been steadily building finally reached a crescendo, and I was unable to do anything other than hang on and ride out the most intense orgasm of my life. I heard him moan my name a second later, his body shuttering as he found his own release.

After, as we lay tangled in each other's arms, he took his time kissing every new scar marring my body. He mumbled words I couldn't make out, but understood all the same because the pain I heard in his voice I wore on my body. I had no idea where this road was going to lead, but I knew one thing with absolutely certainty, I would be alright so long as he was next to me.

* * *

 **Work has been nuts lately, and I didn't get as much time to edit this chapter as I normally like, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging again. Hopefully it's not too bad. Eeek.**

 **Anyways, on to the good stuff ;) What did you think? Alex shared more of her time in captivity, we got to see a softer side of Daryl, and they got a little "adult time". LOL**

 **I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter the action is back in full force.**


	81. Taking the Fight to the Enemy

**Taking the Fight to the Enemy**

The next morning The Kingdom was alight with activity. The community broke down into smaller groups so they could focus on specific skill sets, everything from archery for the "fighters" to schooling for the children. It was an idyllic setting, if you ignored the fact it was at risk of toppling the moment Negan came knocking on the door. This place existed simply because The Saviors allowed it.

"I need to talk to you."

I grabbed Mr. Miyagi's arm, forcing him to stop. Daryl's steps faltered, eyes narrowed at me, but I waved him on. I already knew what Ezekiel was going to say, hearing it would only piss me off, and he didn't need to hear this. My husband gave me a curt nod, eyes briefly drifting to the man beside me before he turned on his heel and continued with the rest of the group.

"I was saddened to hear of your time..."

"Yeah, sure," I replied dismissively. I was sick of being the woman who was brutalized by The Saviors. Time to refocus. "Where's Carol?"

A blank expression slammed down on his face and I felt my irritation mounting. "I am not at liberty to divulge that information."

"You can tell me or I can beat it out of someone else."

His lips pressed into a hard line as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You would hurt an innocent for your own purposes?"

"That depends on you," I countered. In reality, no I wouldn't, but he didn't need to know that.

"She is safe."

"That's not what I asked."

"Why do you want to know?"

I stepped closer, "Listen carefully, I believe Carol means more to me than she does to you. If she's out there on her own she's at risk. She has no idea what we're up against."

She didn't know about those we'd lost, and was completely clueless about The Saviors.

His shoulders deflated. "She is not far from The Kingdom. She did not wish to stay, but the King has become quite fond of her so he set her up in a house close by."

"Wait, back up, _the King is fond of her_?"

What did that mean? They were friends, fuck buddies, in the same book club?

"Yes."

I sighed. Why was everything with this man difficult?

"Care to elaborate?" He shrugged and I pinched the bridge of my nose. "OK, he's _fond of her_ , moving on..." I'd tuck that little nugget of information away and deal with it when I didn't have a madman trying to kill me. "I want to know where she is, _exactly_." I handed him my notebook. "Draw a map."

He exhaled harshly before taking the notebook, and hastily scribbling directions. "Please, she wants to be left alone. I assure you she can handle herself."

I wanted to be left alone too, and look were that got me. We didn't always get what we wanted, and he was wrong about one thing, she couldn't handle herself, not against The Saviors, not alone. Plus, I wasn't doing this simply to ensure her safety. She meant something to the man I loved. I couldn't sit by idly and watch him suffer if I could prevent it.

By the time he was done Ezekiel had delivered his verdict on our proposed alliance. Judging by the scowls on everyone's faces it went over like a turd in a punchbowl. I had to jog to catch up with the group who was striding for the gate with determined steps.

"Chicken shit said no," Merle barked, not giving a single, solitary fuck Richard was walking beside him.

"No offense," I offered the man though I didn't disagree with my brother-in-law's assessment.

"None taken."

"He said we could stay." I turned to Daryl, surprised by the offer. By allowing us to stay he was putting his people at risk, a risk he'd said he wanted to avoid at all costs. "I don't like it."

Daryl didn't like anything that involved hiding. If there was an enemy, you killed them. If there were sleeves, you cut them off. That was redneck simplicity at its best.

"We can't go back to Alexandria or Hilltop," I stated. Staying in The Kingdom was our best option. "It's here or taking our chances out there."

"I'll stay with ya."

I glanced at Merle, biting my lip. "What about Francine?"

He cursed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He couldn't leave her there alone. The Saviors _would_ come looking for me, and they would be out for blood.

"Daryl and Alex will stay here," Rick ordered, addressing the group now that he was done speaking in private with Mr. Miyagi. "Try to get him to listen, change his mind." Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. "Or stare him into submission, whatever it takes."

My ears perked up. "Whatever it takes?"

"Yeah," Rick smirked, a devious gleam in his blue eyes. "You got free reign Alex."

Oh snap! Everybody better hold onto their butts.

He put a hand on Daryl's shoulder, offering him a nod then pulled me in for a hug. "We'll be back soon."

"I know."

"Take care of him and yourself."

I pulled back. "I will."

Merle stood there fuming, taping a finger against his stub. "This whole town makes my ass itch."

"Uh...you should have that looked at." He scowled at me while his brother snorted in amusement. "Listen, this is our best option right now."

If The Saviors caught Daryl or me anywhere near the group the punishment would be swift and severe. Our only advantage was the element of surprise, and we needed to hang on to it for as long as possible.

"Need to take the fight straight to those assholes." I grinned, pulling him in for a hug. "What the hell ya smilin' at?"

"Nothing," I assured him. "Take care of your itchy ass and Francine. In that order. I'll see you soon."

He grunted, the brother's walking a few feet away so they could speak in hushed grunts. A few minutes later they shared a man hug, and then the group departed, the solid, steel door of The Kingdom closing with an ominous bang.

"Now what?" Daryl asked.

I smiled, digging a piece of paper from my back pocket and handing it to Richard. "Can you get me this stuff?"

He frowned, taking the paper and unfolding it. His eyes got progressively wider the further down the list he read. "What do you want it for?"

"A bake sale."

His eyes bounced between us with suspicion and a healthy dose of confusion. I kept my face carefully blank while Daryl sported his usual who gives a fuck expression. He shrugged, tucking the paper into his back pocket, checking discreetly to make sure no one was around.

"Maybe, but not until after."

"After what?" my husband hissed.

"We have to deliver a tribute." The shame in his voice was palpable.

The fact they called handing over half of everything they had "a tribute" made my lip curl in disgust. Were they forced to sacrifice a virgin too? I was so done with this bullshit.

"Find us when you get back," I said, snagging Daryl's hand and leading him away.

Roughly an hour-later the convoy returned looking no worse for the wear save a few cuts and bruises, and the obvious hit to their pride. I did notice Mr. Miyagi was missing his stick which accounted for the glower on his normally stoic face.

"Hey, back from yur _tribute_ ," Daryl yelled, drawing his attention. I stayed seated on the steps, watching him come closer. "Ya went to see them, right?"

"Yeah."

Daryl nodded like the arrangement with The Saviors made perfect sense.

"Part of yur deal." Mr. Miyagi sighed, looking away briefly, not liking the accusation directed at him. "What the hell is wrong with ya?" My husband pointed at his ear. "Yur bleedin'. They did that to ya. Ya know what they are."

"I do," he replied instantly. Daryl bristled at the dismissal, cocking his head to the side, hands clenched at his side. He was working hard not to lose his shit all over Mr. Miyagi's good ear.

"Ya don't know a goddamn thing! Ain't got no idea what they did to _my wife_! What she suffered so we wouldn't have to!" Mr. Miyagi's eyes found mine and I looked away. "How can ya live with yurself knowin' what they've done...what their gonna keep doin'?!"

He didn't wait for an answer, striding up the stairs and out of sight before he made Mr. Miyagi's other ear bleed. I exhaled harshly, climbing to my feet, but stopped halfway up the stairs when he called my name.

"I'm sorry, truly, for everything."

I glanced at him over my shoulder. "I know."

By the time I caught up with Daryl he was halfway to making out with his new crossbow. Richard looked particularly pleased with the reaction which wasn't surprising. He wanted to kill The Saviors, and he saw a kindred spirit in my husband.

"Did you get it?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but it's not here. Follow me."

The look Daryl sent me was clear; did I really trust this guy? The answer was simple, no, but then again, I didn't trust most people. He had an agenda, and I was fairly certain it wasn't in line with my own which made me uncomfortable, but we needed people willing to act. So, that meant we were stuck with Dick and his laser tag gear for the time being.

He led us out of The Kingdom and into the woods to a rundown RV in the absolute middle of fucking nowhere. The RV was the classic example of not judging a book by its cover. Inside the dilapidated vehicle was a stockpile of semi-automatic weapons, ammunition, and various other accoutrements needed to start a small coup. What really got my blood pumping were the rows of Molotov cocktails lined up on the kitchen table.

"Oh dear lord I'm going to need a minute alone," I marveled, fingers tracing the edges of the bottle like a lover. Richard's eyes bulged and he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Ignore her," Daryl mumbled, inspecting a rifle.

Richard cleared his throat. "We need something to move Ezekiel to action." He pulled a Kalashnikov rifle from the closet, holding it with a grimace. "I know how to do it."

It took me less than a minute to put the pieces together. There was only one thing that might sway the King to action, the loss of someone he cared about. Richard was a confidant to Ezekiel which meant there was a better than average chance he knew about Carol and the King's "fondness" towards her. She was his bargaining chip, the motivation he wanted to use to force his hand.

"No." Both men turned to face me, but I kept my eyes locked on Richard. "Listen _Dick_ , we're doing this our way, or we're not doing it at all."

"But...this will work...there's..."

I pulled my gun, pressing the barrel against his forehead, and the rest of his argument died in his throat. My husband didn't hesitate, raising his newly acquired crossbow just in case a bullet to the brain wasn't a big enough deterrent. He had no idea what was at stake, that the man in front of us was willing to sacrifice his best friend to start a war, but he had my back regardless.

"Your way is not an option, _ever_." The last word was drenched with the promise of a swift death should anything befall Carol. He swallowed hard, nodding nervously in agreement. "Gather up the weapons and cocktails, and leave your laser tag gear behind. You won't need it where we're going."

I lowered my weapon, and he took a moment to gather himself before asking, " _Where are we going_?"

"I'm done pussy footing around. We're taking the fight to these shitheads."

"What does that mean?"

Neither Daryl nor I bothered to answer, gathering up weapons and exiting the RV, leaving a confused Dick behind. Thankfully the threat to his life kept him quiet the entire ride which was best for everyone. My husband and I were itching to kill someone if for no other reason than to take the edge off, better for Dick to stew silently than end up dead in a ditch.

I instructed Daryl to stop the truck on the side of a road that served as a main supply hub for The Saviors. While I worked to loosely tie his hands in front of him Dick stashed our gear behind an overturned 18-wheeler.

"Think this is gonna work?"

"When has one of my plans ever _not_ worked?" Daryl stared at my blankly, and I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, OK, don't answer that, but t _his is gonna work_."

"All set," Richard announced, sweating profusely. "You sure this is going to work?"

Daryl glared at him while I huffed, finishing the knot, and checking to make sure the handgun stuck in the back of his pants was easily accessible.

"Alright, the truck will be here any minute. Remember, the bike rides ahead to scout for any issues." I looked at Richard, "As soon as you see it you signal them."

"Right." He looked scared shitless, and that made me nervous. I didn't give a flying fuck about him, but if he got my husband killed I'd murder him...then I'd _really_ go to work on him. "How do you know they'll be here?"

"My psychic is never wrong," I deadpanned, turning my attention to Daryl. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

He smirked, leaning down and brushing a kiss against my lips. "Don't be late."

I smirked, watching him drop down to his knees while Richard pulled a gun and put it against the back of his head. My heart rate picked up until it felt like it might beat right out of my chest. It was one thing to put _my life on the line_. It was an entirely different ballgame putting the man I loved in harm's way.

Reluctantly I jogged away, hiding behind a few abandoned cars further up the road. I heard the hum of the bike's engine long before the machine whizzed around the corner, barreling down the highway. The rider spotted Richard and Daryl almost immediately, their speed slowing as they approached, head bouncing back-and-forth across the highway trying to determine if this was a set-up.

"I'm Richard from The Kingdom, and I have something Negan wants!"

The rider stopped a few feet from the men, getting off the bike slowly while tugging off their helmet. Judging by the slender frame and long black braid hanging down her back it was a woman. She had a pistol in her hand that was aimed at Richard.

"What might that be?"

If she recognized Daryl she showed no sign of it, and I let out a sigh of relief. My assumption Negan kept his people largely in the dark was based more on conjecture than actual facts.

Richard shoved Daryl forward. "This man escaped The Sanctuary. We apprehended him while out scavenging."

The woman tilted her head to the side, studying my husband as I carefully inched my way closer.

"Word on the street is that we're missing _two prisoners._ "

Richard shrugged. "I heard that today when we paid tribute. We'll keep our eyes open. Any idea what we're looking for?"

"Just that it's a woman," she answered.

The fact she didn't have my description was good for us. It meant the word of my escape and appearance weren't common knowledge, not yet at least.

"You'll tell Negan it was The Kingdom that returned his prisoner?" Richard asked, playing his part of a subject to a tee.

Before she could answer I wrapped a hand around her throat, yanking her head violently to the right so I could thrust my knife into her temple. Her body jerked erratically as I lowered her to the ground, pulling the knife out and wiping it on the grass before holstering it at my waist. Daryl was already out of his fake bindings, helping me drag her body off the road. We worked quickly to get her jacket, gloves, and helmet off.

"Rachel, is it clear?"

My head snapped to the motorcycle, and I yelled at Richard to get the walkie talkie. He mumbled incoherently, but complied while I struggled to fit into the shorter woman's jacket and gloves. There wasn't a cold chance in hell I could wear her pants. Unless we were facing a deadly flood in the near future all they accomplished was drawing unwanted attention to the fact I most certainly wasn't Rachel. I'd have to roll the dice, and hope men post-apocalypse were as unobservant as men pre-apocalypse.

My sister once told me her boyfriend of three years didn't notice when she died her hair from black to platinum blonde. I was counting on the same kind of male obliviousness now. Hopefully dying your hair was the same as growing six inches in five-minutes.

"Here."

Richard handed me the walkie talkie, and I pressed the talk button, trying to make my voice sound like the dead woman at my feet. "Yeah..." I let go off the talk button then pressed it again. "Clear..." Again I repeated the process. "Waiting..."

"Say again, you're coming in broken."

While I repeated my charade of poor reception the guys hid the woman's body inside the cab of the old 18-wheeler. I quickly braided my hair, securing the long red braid at the nape of my neck before pulling on the helmet liner then the helmet. I was easily four-inches taller than the woman I'd killed, but hopefully the men driving the truck wouldn't be alive long enough to notice.

The key to any successful plan was to not give a fuck about the details.

The delivery truck rumbled around the corner, and I stepped into the street, waving my hand over my head. They flashed their lights in return. The walkie talkie crackled to life, the men asking what the problem was, but instead of answering I held it above my head with one hand then slashed my fingers across my neck to signal it no longer worked.

They pulled the truck to a stop, the man in the passenger seat immediately jumping out.

"Bike die again?"

"Yeah," I answered, trying to talk as little as possible. Instead I waved my hand at the bike in frustration.

"Told ya that thing was a waste of time." The man sighed heavily, adjusting his baseball cap as he walked closer. "This is gonna throw us off schedule, again."

I nodded, stepping back so he could squat down beside it. I saw Daryl moving quickly towards the driver, and my hand drifted to the back of my jeans where I'd stashed my weapon. Daryl yanked the driver's door open, pulling him out. The man yelped in surprise, drawing the attention of the man inspecting my bike.

"Hey, what..."

I fired a single shot directly in his head, and his body crumpled. Glancing behind me I saw the driver was already dead at Daryl's feet. Richard stood there speechless and pale, Adam's apple working overtime as he watched the gruesome scene unfold.

"Put some pep in your step Dick, we gotta move!" I chastised, pulling on the dead's man's arms, trying to move him out of sight.

For a guy who wanted to kill Saviors he sure was squeamish about killing people.

He finally snapped out of his stupor, helping me hide the body in the same place as the woman. We'd have to keep our fingers crossed no walker's found them before we got back. A herd of walkers feasting on dead Saviors was bound to blow our carefully crafted cover story. Fishing the supplies I needed out of my pack I jumped in the back of the truck, carefully crafting the bomb and attaching it inside a half empty metal drum.

"I'd be especially careful with that one." I pointed at the drum containing enough C4 to put a whole in what was left of the world.

Dick sputtered, eyes wide. "Is it unstable?"

"Dude, it's a bomb." Daryl stood there casually smoking a cigarette watching Dick unravel with surprising speed. "Keep calm and trust the bomb."

"That's not a saying." I rolled my eyes. There was no pleasing some people. "Why did you shoot him? Knives are quieter."

The three of us picked up the last dead guy.

"Because we need it to look like the turned on each other, and guns are more believable," I answered, grunted under the strain of the dead weight.

"But why would they turn on each other?"

I rolled my eyes as we shoved the body in the bed of the truck, slamming the door shut before he fell out.

"I don't know Dick. Maybe she was banging them both and they found out. Maybe they were banging each other and she was jealous. Maybe _nobody_ was banging _anybody_ and they snapped under duress."

Richard froze, mouth opened in an O. "Does every scenario involve..."

"With her, yeah," Daryl interrupted with a shit-eating grin. I pinned him with a look that said he'd pay for that comment later. "Promises, promises, Red. Come on, we gotta haul ass."

"Wait." We paused, looking at him expectantly. "What if they know who you are? What if they don't buy the story about a personnel swap? What if they find the bomb before we're gone?"

That was a lot of questions, but thankfully they all had the same answer.

I patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "We die. Let's go."

I ran to the bike, swinging my long leg over it and pushing the start button. Daryl gestured for Richard to get in the truck while he stopped at my side.

"Keep your helmet on. They see yur hair and we're fucked."

"Your jeans are covered in walker guts." He glanced down at his pants then back at me, eyebrows raised in question. "I'm sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious."

He pursed his lips, picking up the dead man's hat from the ground and putting it on. He pulled the brim low, hoping to obscure as much of his face as possible just in case we ran across someone we'd seen at The Sanctuary.

"Smartass," he grinned, swatting the front of my visor down then jogging to the truck.

The outpost was less than 20-minutes down the highway. It wasn't much to look at, a collection of small metal buildings similar to the ones we'd used for housing during the initial invasion in Iraq. In the middle was a brick building of what was now a defunct electrical company.

A strand of concertina wire circled the perimeter with another identical strand interwoven on top to discourage anyone from attempting to enter by going up and over. Concertina wire was practically impassible when set up correctly, and this was set up correctly. Ft. Belvoir was close by so it wasn't surprising they had access to military equipment and defenses.

Two guards opened the gate, waving us in without a word which spoke to the control The Saviors had in this area. They didn't consider ambush a possibility because Negan had his boot firmly smashed on everyone's throat. No one in their right mind would dare defy him which was why a crazy lady, a redneck wielding a crossbow, and a laser tag obsessed pussy were the perfect instruments to start this war off with a bang, literally.

"On time for once, wonders never cease."

The man who approached me was tall and slender with a shaved head and long, scruffy beard. He appeared to be in his mid to late-40's judging by the silver sprinkled in his beard.

"Well, let's get this over with. I don't want any shit from Negan about throwing you off schedule."

He pointed a finger at the truck, and a group of men approached to help unload. Daryl and Richard opened the back, climbing in so they hand supplies off while keeping their heads down. I didn't move, pretending to inspect my bike as an excuse not to chip in. Unloading supplies in a bike helmet wasn't normal people behavior.

I kept my eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, but no one gave us so much a second glance. Nevertheless, we were at risk. Not only were we surrounded by the enemy, but we had no idea how much of the haul we were supposed to drop-off at this location. Thankfully Richard composed himself enough on the drive over to solve our problem with one faked herniated disc.

"Ouch, dammit, my back" he groaned, leaning against the wall of the truck with his eyes squeezed closed. "How much more? I need to sit down."

One of the men grunted, pointing to a large barrel. "That's the last one."

"Put the fuel for the generator in the main building," the leader instructed, turning his gaze to me. "See you next week."

I nodded curtly, already on the bike with the engine running. Richard backed the truck up, allowing me to lead us out. A few miles out from the outpost I pulled over, pulling the helmet off.

"How long?" Richard asked, clearly nervous.

I pointed in the direction of the compound, and he turned expectantly. Less than a minute later there was a deafening boom followed by a huge plume of black smoke billowing into the clear, blue sky. Secondary explosions weren't far behind with one exploding every few seconds for a solid 30-seconds.

"Holy shit."

I grinned at Richard. "Told you it'd work."

"How many bombs did you plant?"

"Just one, but you saw how much fuel they had. When you factor in the vehicles, solvents, batteries, and anything else flammable and well..." I waved my hand in front of me at the growing cloud of smoke.

Daryl put a hand around me, kissing the side of my head. "Ya did good Red."

"Thank you Katniss." He chuckled and I put my arm around his waist, squeezing hard. "Come on, this isn't over yet."

It took us roughly an hour to stage the crime scene. By the time we were done there were three bodies lying strategically in the road with weapons in their hands, and evidence of their fallout lying on the road. There was no guarantee this would keep suspicion off the communities, but it would buy us time. Negan was nothing if not thorough. He'd make damn sure he knew what was going on before he made a move in retaliation.

"Ready?"

I glanced at Richard then my husband who was putting the finishing touches on our subterfuge. "Go ahead. We'll catch up."

He frowned, but left without comment. I dug through Daryl's pack until I found my notebook, and forced myself to take a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy, for either of them, but it needed to happen.

"Let's go Red."

"Wait."

He stopped, adjusting the crossbow slung across his back. Opening the notebook I flipped the pages until I found what I was looking for then tore out the page, offering it to him.

"What's this?"

"Carol." His eyes snapped to me, blue eyes intense. "You should go see her."

Right now he was angry, at himself, at his best friend, at the world. I couldn't help with _all of those things_ , but I could help with one. Carol's departure was a sucker punch our group didn't need, especially not after The Saviors, but for Daryl it was so much more. Everyone had their issues. It just so happened abandonment was one of his. He hated that she'd left and was struggling to understand the why behind it. The two of them had history that went back much further than the end of the world.

I stepped forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go."

"She don't wanna to see me."

"You're probably the only one she _does_ _want to see_." He huffed, shaking his head in disagreement. "She needs you...and you need her." He opened his mouth to refute the statement, but I put my hand up, stopping him. "You need to forgive her."

Forgive her for doing awful things in the name of survival.

Forgive her for leaving.

"What if I can't?" He looked so lost in that moment I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and never let go. "What if she won't come back?"

"All you can do is try," I replied, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Let her know we're waiting for her, that no matter what she'll always be family. You don't have to fix her. Only she can do that. You just need to be there for her."

"A'right."

I nodded, stepping away. "I'll meet you back at The Kingdom."

He bit his thumbnail, studying the map. "How'd ya get this?"

"I asked really, really nicely." He rolled his eyes making me laugh. I'd never get tired of that. "Turns out Ezekiel's fond of her."

"The fuck's that mean?"

Judging by the tone of his voice Ezekiel should be more worried about Daryl than The Saviors.

"It means our little girl's all grown up."

His eyes widened in realization, but horror quickly replaced surprise. Man, fucking with him never got old. I threw him a playful wink before pivoting on my heel and heading back to The Kingdom. The walk took just under an hour, but as I strolled through the gates I came face-to-face with a grumpy wannabe king.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

He paused dramatically between each word. I wasn't sure if it was to emphasize his displeasure or just another bi-product of their ongoing Shakespearean play.

"Why don't you ask Dick. It was his idea."

Ezekiel's eyes strayed to the man in question. He hunched his shoulders under the glare of his king, head shaking back-and-forth in disagreement.

"That's not exactly..."

"My decision was final," Ezekiel roared, "You disobeyed your King!"

"Your majesty I..."

"Enough!" Dick's mouth snapped closed as the King rounded on me. "You will bring their wrath down on us. Sanctuary here was contingent on your adherence to our rules."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," I countered.

His upper lip curled in anger while Jerry took a step closer. "They will come...how am I to explain what happened today?"

"Do you even know what happened?" He looked away, and I shook my head. "You've got plausible deniability. There's nothing that leads back to The Kingdom so relax, your _truce_ is safe."

"Regardless of your assurance, they will come and I will not be able to protect you."

I nodded in agreement. "Which is why we'll be leaving, tonight."

The King pursed his lips, turning on a heel and stalking off, Jerry hot on his heels. Rick left us behind to keep us safe with the hopes we could sway the King to action. In less than 24-hours we may have accomplished the exact opposite. I was nothing if not efficient.

It didn't take long to gather our stuff. I didn't have much to begin with, and Daryl always traveled light. The sun was setting by the time I dropped our pathetically small packs on the ground by the stairs. When Daryl returned I wanted to be ready to leave pronto. We'd pissed off our host _and_ blew up a compound of Saviors all in less than a day.

"What you said earlier was bullshit." I sighed, regarding Richard with cool detachment. "That wasn't my idea."

"You're right. _Your_ idea was the real bullshit."

He ran a hand through his hair. "We want the same thing...The Saviors gone."

"Don't make the mistake of thinking we're the same." He scoffed, ready to launch into another comparison, but before he could I pinned him against the wall and pressed a knife to his throat. "Listen to me carefully cause I'm only going to say this once. If anything happens to Carol, _anything at all_ , if she so much as gets a _hang nail_ you're going to regret ever being born." He was shaking, eyes wide with fear that told me he was taking my threat seriously. "I'm going to come back and kill every single person you care about...slowly...intimately...in every way I know you fear. Do you understand me?"

"Y-y-y-y...h-h-h...p-p-l-l..."

I sighed, pressing the knife harder against his throat. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Ukrainian."

"Yes!" he blurted out, trying to lean away from the razor sharp blade nicking at his throat

"Everythin' a'right?"

I glanced over my shoulder at my husband who didn't look surprised to find me threatening a man with mortal injury.

"We're good. Aren't we Dick?" I released him, dropping the knife to my side. He took a deep breath, nodding in lieu of actual words. "Just making sure we're all on the same page."

"Uh-huh."

Daryl wasn't convinced, but he also wasn't concerned. By now he knew the woman stashed away in the woods was Carol. He was also smart enough to connect the dots. He knew Dick's initial plan involved using her as a sacrificial lamb. The man was lucky I was the one addressing his wrongdoings. Daryl didn't do warnings. He did arrows in the ass. Period.

"Time to go Red."

I picked up our meager belongings, tossing him a pack while putting one on my shoulders. The guards at the gate said nothing when we approached, simply opening the gates. Dick stood a few feet away, watching regretfully, but whether it was from his ill-fated attempt to force his King's hand or the fact he was losing the only people in The Kingdom who wanted a war I wasn't sure.

"Things are gonna get a whole lot worse b'fore they get better."

I nodded, the two of us striding purposefully away from The Kingdom. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

 **What do you think of Alex taking the fight to The Saviors? This is another big departure from the show. You can expect some fairly large differences in the upcoming chapters. I hope that's OK and I really hope you enjoy them.**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts...**


	82. The Blame Game

**The Blame Game**

"You need to relax your body."

Maggie whirled around, a huge smile on her face. The group she was teaching to throw knives all turned also, among them Glenn, Beth, and Enid. Daryl shifted uncomfortably at my side, unable to meet the young widow's gaze.

"Alex!" Maggie collided with me, hugging me briefly before pulling away and inspecting me from head to toe like the mom she was about to become. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"We're good," I lied. The witch doctor didn't buy it, but she also didn't press the issue since we were in mixed company. Instead she stepped back, allowing Glenn to embrace me while she moved on to Daryl. "Good to see you man."

"You too." Beth said nothing, smiling kindly at me like I hadn't been instrumental in her husband's death. When her small arms wrapped around me my eyes filled with tear. "Hey."

"Hey." She released me, holding up a knife. "Maggie's trying to teach us."

I glanced behind her at a wood stump. There were a few embedded in it, but most were on the ground behind it and one was stuck in the side of a wood shack 20-feet to the left. Good lord these people sucked. I threw better then this drunk of my ass. I sincerely hoped this war didn't come down to throwing knives cause if so we were all gonna die.

"Looks like it's going really good," I grimaced. Enid snorted, pulling her knife and tossing it at the stump serving as the target. Her blade hit the stump with a thud, almost dead center. She turned on her heel, crossing her arms over her chest proudly. "Don't get cocky."

In my peripheral I saw Beth attempting to talk to Daryl. My husband mumbled something incoherent, hoisting the pack on his shoulders and leaving quickly. Her shoulder's deflated as she watched his retreating back.

"Come on, let's get you settled," Glenn said, trying to relieve some of the mounting tension.

"Y'all keep practicing. I'll be back," Maggie instructed, leading us back towards the center of Hilltop.

Glenn pointed ahead, "Jesus' trailer is pretty full, but the one next door has an empty bedroom."

I was only half listening. Everywhere I looked the community was readying themselves for war. The blacksmith was forging weapons, groups were scattered around learning to fight, and the community was being fortified with sheets of steel and sharpened wooden stakes.

Daryl's pack was already sitting on the bed by the time I got there, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. I sighed, making my way to Jesus' trailer where the mood could best be described as strained.

Sasha sat at a table in the middle of the room, a scowl of determination on her face. Maggie and Glenn were leaning against the wall, staring at the back of her head, the same worry reflected on both their faces. Jesus, Enid, and Beth sat side-by-side all staring at anything other than the woman at the table and the man opposite her. Daryl took a slow, deep breath, crossing his massive arms over his chest, eyes narrowed in calculation as he watched Sasha.

"OK, what'd I miss?" Daryl said nothing, picking up a piece of paper and handing it to me. The drawing on the paper was rudimentary at best, and I frowned. "I didn't know Nugget was here."

"Funny," Sasha deadpanned, leaning back in the chair with a frustrated huff.

I placed the paper on the table casually. "It'll never work."

Sasha growled, her eyes flicking to the ground. Truth be told her depiction of The Sanctuary wasn't that far off. She had the basic layout correct, no doubt assisted by Jesus and Carl's impromptu visits, but knowing the layout was hardly the issue.

"I'm done sitting around doing nothing."

I sighed, leaning against the wall. "We're not doing nothing. We're preparing. That..." I pointed at the paper on the table. "Is a suicide mission."

"Taking the fight to Negan is the only way to win!" she roared, on her feet.

"You don't take down someone like him with brute force. One, you'll never get close enough to take a high percentage shot. Two, killing him solves nothing because someone else will simply take his place." No one moved while we stared each other down. "The only way to destabilize a regime like this is from the inside out. We have to systematically tear down his infrastructure. We aren't fighting _one man_. We're fighting a way of life. Negan, The Sanctuary, the ultimatums, it all goes."

"But...how do we do that?" Glenn asked, an arm around his wife.

"A'ready started," Daryl drawled, "Blew an outpost sky high yesterday. Them bastards didn't know what hit 'em."

"You... _blew it up_?"

"Don't look so shocked Jesus."

His head bobbed between me and my husband. "You'll draw them right to us, and we're not ready. If they attack now we're all dead."

"See, I told you, no Zen whatsoever," I said to my husband who only grinned making Jesus growl in annoyance. "That's why we did it real quiet like."

"What does that mean?" Everyone in the room pretended not to notice how Daryl stiffened at Beth's voice.

"They didn't know it was us." Jesus' eyes bulged in disbelief, Sasha's mouth dropped open in shock, and Glenn sputtered cause he was Glenn. "We hijacked a convoy en route to drop off supplies, and posed as Saviors. We were long gone by the time the gas cans we'd rigged exploded."

"Holy shit," Enid gasped.

"Watch your language," Maggie chastised more as a reflex than any real desire to keep the teen in line. "How did you know about the convoy, the outpost, any of it?"

"I've had a lot of downtime lately."

My attempt at evasion was poor at best. Sasha looked downright determined to uncover the source of my information. I knew I couldn't keep the notebook a secret forever, but I would until I was absolutely sure we were ready. That seemed especially prudent now that I knew Sasha was planning to pull a Rogue One.

"They'll come," Jesus announced, "After something like that they'll hit up every community looking for answers."

"Guess we better get ready," Maggie replied.

The newly appointed leader of Hilltop was quick to doll out tasks. I was charged with teaching hand-to-hand combat while my other half was given the mission of instructing Hilltop on the ins-and-outs of hitting the broad side of a barn. Both assignments sucked, but at least I didn't have to worry about friendly fire mishaps. I was on my way to a training class when Jesus fell in step with me.

"She's going to go." The "she" he was referring to was Sasha. "She'd stand a better chance of coming back with your help."

"I think you've helped enough for the both of us, don't you think?"

He glanced at me. "She'd already talked to Carl. I'm just trying to give her the best chance of surviving."

I stopped and he followed suit. "But she won't survive. You and Carl think you know about that place because you stopped by for a few minutes, but you don't know shit."

"Rosita's showed up late last night." My heart rate sped up, and I bit my lip. "I found Sasha gathering ammo this morning. The two of them are going to do it."

Correction, they were going to _try_. It wasn't that Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie weren't capable. The issue was they were driven by rage which made them careless. I knew because I felt the exact same thing. Just like them I'd considered infiltrating The Sanctuary and attempting to assassinate Negan, but I knew the chance of success was minimal at best. I also knew even if I succeeded I'd never walk away from it. I couldn't do that to Daryl. Not after everything he'd already been through.

"Then that's their choice," I replied solemnly, unable to look him in the eyes.

Even to my own ears I sounded callous. It wasn't that I didn't care. _I did,_ but there was nothing I could do. This was their choice, not mine.

"Alex..." He bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry, for what you suffered, but we're all just trying to make the best of a bad situation."

"I'm done trading lives," I snapped, "Killing him isn't enough. I want him to suffer. I'm going to tear apart his whole world piece by piece."

"When does it end?" he asked.

"It ends when we're standing over their dead bodies."

Half an hour later I was trying and failing to teach the oblivious people of Hilltop how to beat the shit out of each other. Seriously, I should get an award for putting up with all their grumbling. All of them were convinced hand-to-hand combat wasn't a skill they would ever need to employ. It was impossible to explain to the sheltered individuals the importance of what I was teaching. Knives got taken, weapons jammed, and bullets ran out. The only way to ensure your survival no matter the circumstances was to make _yourself_ the weapon.

None of them, not one, had any background in fighting save the guy in the back who'd smugly just announced he didn't need any additional training to, and I quote, "whoop ass".

"Step forward."

He frowned, a condescending smirk on his bearded face as he complied. Everyone else took a big step back, eyes wide, nervous energy zipping through the group.

"Attack me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Did I stutter?" His mouth snapped closed, but he didn't move. "You said you got this shit, right?" He nodded. "Time to put up or shut up Paul Bunyan."

"I don't want to hurt you," he replied, his tone dripping with arrogance he had no right to.

He easily outweighed me by 60 pounds, and was a few inches taller. In his mind those stats assured his victory which only served to prove my point.

"Don't worry, I signed the waiver." He shrugged, dropping into a cliché fighting stance. When he simply stood there I raised my eyebrows. "Whenever you're ready."

"So...just hit you?"

"Yeah."

Predictably he reared back with his right hand, putting all his weight behind an aggressive, but sloppy right hook. Lithely I ducked under the punch, coming up beside him before he had a chance to recover. I bent my knees to lower my center of gravity, shifting my weight onto my toes as I twisted my hips in order to load up my left hook. He gasped when I exploded up and into him, rotating my hips and releasing my left arm, delivering a brutal punch he had no chance of avoiding.

His head snapped to the side, blood pouring from a deep cut on his lip. I wasted no time dropping down and spinning on my right heel with my left leg outstretched. My boot connected with his meaty calves, whipping his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a pain filled "oomph", lying disoriented on his back, blood pouring from his mouth onto his flannel shirt.

"Anyone else think they don't need this class?" The chorus of "no's" was instantaneous and I nodded. "That's what I thought. Break up into pairs and get started." I turned my attention to the bleeding man still laid out on the ground. "Need any more one-on-one time?"

"N-n-no," he groaned, pushing onto his side and spitting blood on the ground. "I'm good."

A guard on the front gate started pounding two metal poles together, screaming that The Saviors were coming. Enid rounded the corner followed closely by Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, and Beth.

"You guys have to hide," Glenn exclaimed, looking around wildly.

"We'll never make it in time," his wife replied.

It was obvious this wasn't the first time they'd practiced this fire drill, but one thing didn't track.

"Why are you two hiding?" I asked the sisters.

"This way!" Enid yelled, waving us over to a nearby root cellar.

"We're dead," Beth answered.

"Yur what?"

"The Saviors think we're dead. They can't see us, and they can't see y'all either. Let's go!" Maggie ordered.

Daryl grabbed my arm and ran, dragging me behind him. Maggie and Beth were already in the cellar, but I faltered at the entrance. It was small, cramped, and dark down there, exactly like my former cell.

"Red." I didn't realize I was slowly backing up until Daryl grabbed my hand, stopping me before there was an Alex shaped hole in the fence. "Baby, we gotta hide, _now_."

"I...I can't."

"Yes ya can." My breathing was coming far too fast, making me feel lightheaded. "Do ya trust me?"

"Yes."

He took my face in his hands. "Then trust me now."

My mouth was far too dry for words so I nodded, taking a deep breath and following him into the pit of Hell otherwise known as the cellar.

"Just stay down there. I'll keep them away. They aren't the same ones who came to Alexandria," Enid promised, closing the door.

It was damp and musty in the cellar, and my hands were cold and clammy. I repeated over-and-over in my head that this wasn't The Sanctuary. I wasn't in a cell. I wasn't a prisoner. It wasn't helping.

Beth materialized at my side, arm going around my shoulder. I didn't even realize I was shaking until her steady hand made contact with mine. Her sister pushed a shelf away from the wall, barking at us to get behind it. It would be a tight squeeze with the four of us, extremely tight, but it was this or risk being found.

"Daryl," Maggie hissed, eyeing my husband who was ignoring her completely as he peered out a door with a knife in his hand. "Daryl!"

She turned to me, waving a hand in frustration at the redneck who looked ready to take on The Saviors with nothing but a knife. And I thought Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie were reaching.

"Katniss!"

He sighed heavily, but closed the door, mumbling gruffly before attempting to squeeze his much too large frame into the much too small hiding space. His wide chest bumped against the shelf, almost knocking off a half dozen cans. I watched in mild amusement while he struggled to fit his size 15 feet in the 3 feet of available space.

"Not a damn word Red," he snarled, pulling the shelf back to its original position.

"I didn't say anything."

"Ya were thinkin' it."

That was true.

Everyone tensed when the cellar doors opened. Beth's hand slid into mine, but this time it was her shaking. I squeezed lightly, putting a finger to my lips. Her eyes slammed shut, and I glanced at Daryl, but he was focused on the cellar entrance.

A single Savior walked through the door. He glanced casually around the room before picking up a basket of apples, and setting it by the door. When he stopped directly in front of the shelf we were hiding behind we all held our collective breath. There was no indication he knew we were here, but that could all change in an instant.

He took a box off the top shelf, and Daryl moved forward, knife in his hand poised to strike. Maggie's eyes got wide with panic, but I was already moving to intervene. I didn't try to pull him back or otherwise physical restrain him because it was pointless. He was bigger and stronger so if he wanted to kill the Savior there was little I could do to stop him, but that didn't make me powerless.

I wrapped my hand gently around his large wrist, eyes focused on his face. He stopped immediately, vibrating with open hostility while he eyed the intruder. With my other hand I reached up, cupping the side of his face and turning him to face me.

He shuddered briefly, and dropped the knife, leaning forward until our foreheads were touching. I closed my eyes, blocking out the smell of the cellar and the sound of the Savior stealing supplies. I focused on the man in front of me. How he felt. His body that was so much larger than mine somehow made me feel safe. How he smelled like freshly mowed grass on a hot summer day. How even after all this time he still trembled when I touched him.

The door closed, and we broke apart. Daryl was quick to push the shelf away, desperate to be free of our hiding spot. He quickly made his way to the door, peering through the slats to make sure it was safe.

"You were going to kill that guy."

He kept his back to Maggie as he answered flatly, "He was gonna find us."

Beth stepped around us, shoulders back, head high. "No, he wasn't."

Just like every other times she spoke my husband flinched involuntarily.

"He deserved to die," Daryl attested, still refusing to face the younger sister.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Maggie grabbed my hand, shaking her head curtly. I knew Daryl felt responsible for Noah. I knew because I felt the same way. It was our actions that spurred Negan to take another life that fateful night. While I'd briefly spoken to the Beth when I first escaped my husband had not. He'd done everything in his power to avoid her, a fact which clearly bothered her.

"Why don't you talk to me?" This was a conversation they should have in private, but there was nowhere for us to go. Instead, we held perfectly still in the hopes they'd forget we existed. "Why don't you look at me?"

My husband said nothing. He didn't even move, and my heart broke for them both.

"I thought..." Beth's voice cracked, and she took a moment to gather herself. "I thought that we were family. After the prison, when we were out there together, you became my brother. I already lost my husband. I can't lose you too."

Daryl finally turned to face her, a look of pure grief on his face. His lips trembled, tears slipping from the corner of his eyes despite his best efforts to quell them. Beth took a step towards him, her own eyes welling up.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'm so damn sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was," he countered, sniffling.

I wasn't sure there was anything we could have done to avoid what happened that night. Looking back it felt like we'd been on a collision course with Negan since the moment we set foot in this state.

"No," Beth countered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Alex's fault. It was only Negan's fault." She took a step closer to the heartbroken redneck. "You're one of the bravest people in this world. That's what Noah thought. He told me...he said you were the one who taught him how to be brave."

My own tears were falling now. Maggie covered her mouth with her hand, crying openly for her sisters loss. There was so much pain packed in this cellar it was suffocating. This, this was the cost of love.

"It was one of the things we had in common. You taught me how to be brave too." She smiled sadly, hugging him confidently even as he stiffened with unease at the physical contact. "Please don't cut me out. I couldn't...I couldn't bare it if I lost you both."

Daryl finally broke, sagging in her arms and burying his head in her hair, crying openly. "I'm here. I'll do anythin' to make it right."

Beth pulled away, "We win. That's how we make it right."

Daryl nodded in agreement, swiping away tears. "Damn straight."

It felt like a lifetime passed before Enid finally threw open the cellar doors announcing the all clear. I was the first one out, unable to take an extra second in the dark, confined space. Glenn was standing nearby with his head down.

"What happened?"

He looked at me sadly. "They took Harlan."

"Why would they do that?" Maggie asked. "Don't they have a doctor?"

"Probably because Negan killed his brother," I explained.

No one was safe at The Sanctuary, not even doctors. His transgression must have been major for Negan to execute someone with his skillset. It wasn't like doctors were easy to come by though I supposed they were easier to find when you could kidnap them from surrounding communities.

"They're gone!" Jesus skidded to a halt, face flushed. "They left. They snuck off in the chaos."

"Who? What are you talking about?" Maggie asked.

"Legolas, get our packs and meet me at the front gate." He nodded, turning swiftly on his heel and running for the trailer. "I need weapons and ammo, anything you can spare, now!"

Jesus was gone in a flash, but Maggie stepped in my path, eyes hard. "What's going on Alex?"

"Apocalypse Barbie and Sasha went to The Sanctuary."

Glenn gasped, "Why would they do that?"

"Because they think they can kill Negan."

"You knew." I glanced at the eldest Greene daughter, refusing to back down under her heavy scrutiny. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did say something, to Sasha. She asked me to train her, to help her, and I told her no."

I'd thought my warning and subsequent dismissal would be enough to sway her. Turned out I was wrong and it might cost two women their life.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean." Maggie took a deep breath, hands briefly drifting to her stomach while she assured her husband she was fine. "Do you think you can stop them?"

Daryl rounded the corner, crossbow slung on his back, two packs in his hand. "Depends on if we can catch them."

"Take a car."

Glenn tossed Daryl a set of keys, and we ran for the car. Jesus met us there with a few weapons, and we were ready go, save one minor issue.

"What the hell ya doin'?"

Daryl and I both glared at the man in the backseat who didn't look the least bit worried about facing our wrath. "I'm coming."

"The hell you are," I countered.

"I'm the one who gave her the map," Jesus replied, bowing his head, "I didn't try to stop her, not really, and that's on me."

"We don't have time for this shit."

I rubbed my hands on my face. "Just go." Daryl didn't hesitate, slamming his foot on the accelerator. "If you get in our way I'll kill you myself, got it?"

"Yep."

Clearly my murder face was on a vacay. People weren't supposed to smile happily when you threatened to kill them. I was losing my touch.

A few miles away from The Sanctuary we hid the car, and continued on foot. With every step we took my anxiety doubled until it was difficult to breathe. I wanted The Sanctuary wiped off the map as much as the next guy, but charging in with handguns, knives, and a crossbow with three measly arrows wasn't what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of dropping a bomb and calling it a day.

"It's up ahead." Daryl and I stopped mid-step, glaring at Jesus over our shoulder. "But you already knew that so I'll just shut up."

No sooner had we resumed walking before I grabbed Daryl's sleeve, pulling him to a halt. He turned with a frown, and I cocked my head to the side, listening. He mimicked my stance, and we both went for our weapons when we heard shouting followed by gunfire. Based on the direction it was coming from it sounded like Sasha and Apocalypse Barbie had started their attack.

"That doesn't sound good," Jesus mused.

It didn't sound good because it wasn't good. I cursed under my breath, looking around for a way to get closer without completely exposing ourselves. Unfortunately, once we left the cover of the woods there was no more good hiding place, just progressively worse ones.

"Goddamnit," I muttered, pressing my lips into a hard line when another round of gunfire started. "OK, here's what we're gonna do..."

"We're gotta go Red."

My eyes snapped to his. "We're not leaving them."

The sporadic gunfire at The Sanctuary had yet to die down, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Ain't nothin' we can do for 'em now," he said grimly.

He was right, of course he was right, but the thought of leaving them to endure what I knew would come if they were taken prisoner made my stomach tighten. I wouldn't wish that existence on my worst enemy, and the two women who'd stupidly sacrificed themselves were far from my enemy.

"We can't," I implored, looking for an ally I wouldn't find in either man.

"We gotta."

I shook my head, taking a step back. If they didn't want to go, fine, I'd do it myself. The Sanctuary was the last place I wanted to be, but I refused to leave them behind. I had to at least try.

My husband saw my intent long before I got the chance to make a move. Before I could put any meaningful distance between us his arm snaked around my waist, lifting me clear off the ground as he ordered Jesus back to the car.

"No!" I fought to free myself, but I was too distraught to do anything useful. "Daryl _please_ , we can't!"

"We gotta get back to Alexandria, regroup, come up with a plan. Negan's gonna know it was us now. We need to be ready." All the fight drained out of me as fast as it came. I slumped in his arms, breathing hard. "They're tough. Don't give up on 'em."

I sniffled, extracting myself from his arms and taking a second to compose myself. Once I had some of my shit together I looked him in the eyes steadily.

"If they're alive they're suffering, horribly...a terrible suffering without end." His eyes widened, mouth opening and closing a few times in dismay. "If we care about them at all we should hope they're already dead."

* * *

 **What did you guys think? Any predictions about what's to come?**

 **Until next time...**


	83. You Can't Save Everyone

**You Can't Save Everyone**

"They...they have guns. A lot of them. I saw them."

Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara.

Maybe if I kept repeating it I'd be able to stop my hands from wrapping around her delicate throat and choking the life from her. As if he could read my thoughts my brother-in-law casually slid closer, arms loose at his sides, eyes fixed on me like I was a wild animal.

"What? What group?" Daryl barked.

Between him and Rick the young woman would be lucky to survive the impending interrogation.

She sighed, dropping her head in shame. "They have an armory. They have guns."

Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara.

Daryl and Rick shared a look before the latter leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "Why didn't you tell us before now?"

"I made a promise Rick." She raised her chin defiantly despite staring down a less than hospitable crowd. It was the first time since she came clean that she'd made eye contact with anyone.

Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara.

I understood keeping secrets. Hell, I was the queen of that particular island, but this was on another level. Ever since we got back to Alexandria after our failed rescue attempt we'd been throwing around ideas about how to fulfill Rick's bargain with the Garbage Pail Kids, and all the while Tara held the key to our salvation.

Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara.

"Alright, I get it." He did? That was awfully generous. I, myself, was having a difficult time adjusting to the news she was a holding out on us. "The question now is what do we do? We owe Jadis the guns and soon."

"Ain't rocket science Officer Friendly," Merle drawled, "We take their shit."

Ah, to have a non-existent moral compass. What freedom that must offer.

Tara's eyes widened, and she swallowed hard. "You...you won't hurt them will you?" When no one immediately answered she quickly added, "I can talk to them. We can do this peacefully."

"Seems like a stretch," Rick pondered, scratching his beard.

"Their families, husbands, brothers, sons, The Saviors killed them." Tara looked around the room, desperate to find a peaceful solution. "We can do this without killing them. We have to at least try. Otherwise we're just as bad as The Saviors."

Rick tapped a finger on the table, glancing at Deadpool and Daryl who both nodded in agreement. He turned to me, cop eyebrow raised in question. "Alex, thoughts?"

Yeah, I had some thoughts alright. Daryl leaned in my direction, discreetly taking my hand under the table. His meaning was crystal clear, killing Tara was a no-no.

"Terminus."

Tara sucked in a ragged breath while Deadpool whistled low, leaning back.

"You can't kill them," she pleaded.

"Who said anything about killing them?"

Her mouth dropped open, and she stuttered. "But...but you said...Terminus means bombs, right?"

"Hell yeah it does," Merle whooped, his excitement making almost everyone but me uncomfortable.

"While I don't share his enthusiasm..." I gave my brother-in-law a pointedly look he promptly dismissed with a flick of his wrist. "I've found that explosives are highly motivational. We'll set them up outside the perimeter and blow them strategically to herd them into a central location so they're easier to manage while we raid the armory. In and out in under 10-minutes."

"We can use bombs we stole from the Saviors." My head swiveled to Deadpool who had the good sense to look apologetic. There was helpful, and then there was stealing someone's thunder. "We've got them, we might as well use them."

"Pre-made explosives...shacking up with the law for less than a month and you're already boring."

She narrowed her eyes, flipping me off which made Merle cackle like a maniac while Tara bristled.

"We're talking about blowing up someone's home. I don't think that's very funny."

Yeah, and? How many times had our "home" been blown to hell? I wasn't going to let her bomb shame me.

Don't kill Tara. Don't kill Tara.

I narrowed my eyes, leaning back in my chair while silently repeating my mantra. She sighed heavily, refocusing on the more sentimental people at the table, so Nugget.

"If we take everything they have they're as good as dead."

I licked my lips, taking a deep breath so I didn't do something I'd regret, like kill Tara. "It's them or us." She withered under the full power of my murder face, and I instantly felt like crap. "We take only what we absolutely need, and leave the rest."

"We could try to convince them to join us." Deadpool's optimism was the stuff of legend. "If they fight The Saviors we all stand a better chance."

Tara was the only one who knew these people. By the way she hung her head I wasn't holding out hope they'd join our fight. It seemed everyone hated The Saviors, but no one was willing to stick their neck out to stop them. Typical.

The discussion kicked into overdrive about how to politely steal someone's shit, but I blocked most of it out. The house was overflowing with people, bodies packed into the kitchen and overflowing into the living room. It seemed the order of the day was shouting to be heard so the volume level continued to rise while people shouted out ideas.

It was too much, the talking, the people, the small space, the...everything. I shot to my feet, the chair almost tipping over backwards before Daryl stopped it, his thoughtful gaze trained on me. Ignoring the worried looks of everyone I walked outside, desperate to breathe fresh air.

It took a few minutes and more than a few deep breaths to get my heart rate under control. By the time I did Daryl was quietly standing behind me, biting his thumbnail, a pensive look on his handsome face.

"Stop."

He frowned, "Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like I'm gonna lose my shit."

His large hands settled on my shoulders, turning me around to face him. He cupped my face gently, pulling me closer and kissing me. I sighed, my stomach fluttering wildly just like it had the first time he kissed me behind an abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere. I had a feeling I would never get used to having his lips on me, and I was good with that.

He pulled away slightly, but didn't let go. "Ya good?"

"Gotta be." He smirked at the familiar retort, his brother yelling at us to stop necking and get moving. "Everyone's treating me like I'm about to break."

"Just worried 'bout ya is all."

"Sometimes..." My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat to buy myself more time. "Sometimes it feels like I might. That scares me. I know what I'm capable of, and I don't have a handle on it anymore."

Admitting my weakness, even to him, was monumental. No one save my husband had any inkling of what my time with The Saviors did to me. Sure, they saw my fading bruises and healing cuts, but they had no idea how close to the edge I currently was. If they did, they'd know The Saviors weren't what they should fear.

"Yur stronger than ya realize." I ducked my chin, unable to stomach his steadfast belief in me. He stepped closer, hands resting on my hips. "I got ya Red. No matter what happens. I got ya."

"I love you," I whispered, burying my head in the crook of his neck.

"Love ya too."

Oceanside was situated near the coastline in an old campground tucked away on the edge of the woods. I tightened my hold on Daryl, my arms wrapped around his waist as he deftly maneuvered the around debris in the road, the salty scent of the ocean hitting me hard. His crossbow was slung across my back along with my rifle, the weight and feel of the weapons familiar though both were replacements. Two-Face still had his original crossbow, and all my weapons remained in the possession of The Saviors.

My brother-in-law was quick to outfit me with new weapons the moment we walked through the gates of Alexandria last night. I think it was his way of trying to make it right.

There was a Glock 9mm strapped to my leg, a sheath of knives wrapped around my waist, two smaller knives tucked into my boots, and a M4 slung across my back. It was as close to "before" as I was likely to ever get.

Daryl's hand covered mine and he squeezed gently, silently asking if I was alright. Honestly, yes and no. It felt good to be doing something in an effort to combat our enemy, but the adrenaline pumping through my system was off the charts. The way I felt right now I wouldn't need bombs to subdue Oceanside.

Taking a slow, deep breath I rested my head in-between his shoulder blades, willing myself to calm down and focus. These people may have what we need, but they weren't the enemy. I needed to tread cautiously. If I let my instincts take over I was likely to kill them all before I realized what was happening.

We parked the vehicles on the opposite side of a small river, using a boat to ferry the group and supplies across. I bit my lip, watching Deadpool and Rick row the last group across which consisted of Aaron, Eric, Gabby, and Toby.

"What do you think?"

I glanced at Jesus then looked back at the boat. "I think most of the people in that boat are more likely to accidentally shoot us than the people at Oceanside."

I could see Eric's hands shaking from here. Gabby may worked out a deal with JC that allowed him to smoke fools, but he was still a beginner, at best, and the only thing I knew about Toby was he wanted to bang Carol. All-in-all they had the makings of a sub-par JV team.

"Come on, we're ready to set the explosives," he chuckled.

Aaron, Eric, Merle, and Francine kept watch while Daryl, Jesus and I worked to prep and place the bombs. Our goal wasn't to kill these people, but rather to gain their compliance. I could speak from experience that a bomb detonating a few feet away from you was highly motivational.

"I should have tried harder to stop Rosita and Sasha." My hand stilled and I swallowed hard. I'd been trying not to think about them. I hoped they both died quickly. The thought made my stomach churn with guilt, but imagining them alive and imprisoned was paralyzing. "If they'd just waited one more day..."

"Well, Sasha a good shot," Daryl interrupted, diligently uncoil blasting wire. "And Rosita knows how to take care of herself, probably back at Hilltop right now. At least I hope so. We're gonna need 'em. There's a whole lotta people that still gotta die."

I could feel Jesus' eyes on me, but I kept my head down, focusing on the bomb in my hand and not the demons in my head.

"Alright, everyone ready?" Rick looked around, receiving a litany of nods. "Stay focused. Do your jobs and no one has to gets hurt."

These days I needed as much normal as I could get. Rick sucking at motivational speeches when we were on the verge of battle helped calm my anxiety. It was good to know some things never changed. No matter how much practice they got.

The group broke up with a bevy of hushed whispers and curt nods, everyone assuming their positions. We had the entire community surrounded, and they were none the wiser. My job was relatively boring, blow my bomb when instructed and try not to kill people unless it was absolutely necessary. Sighing dramatically I waved Merle over, handing him the trigger.

"The hell ya doin'?"

"I gotta pee." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but took the trigger. "Thanks bro."

"Don't do nothin' stupid lil' sister."

I scoffed, "Please, when have I ever done something stupid." He blinked, not bothering with a response. "Fine, I promise not to do something stupid this time."

"Darlina know what yur up to?" I winced, glancing over my shoulder to make sure my husband hadn't heard anything. Thankfully his assigned bomb was clear on the other side of the community. "Fucking hell Firecracker."

"Quit bitching. Everything's gonna be fine."

"If everythin's gonna be fine why ya sneakin' off at the last second?" That was a fair question with a shitty answer. He sighed when he saw the look on my face. "Yur gonna follow Tara ain't ya?"

Merle may play the part of dumb redneck, but he wasn't one. "Trust, but verify."

I didn't doubt her loyalty, only her guilty conscience. Without further comment I stalked off, careful to stay obscured in the trees while I made my way closer to the community. I watched Tara sneak into a dilapidated cabin, and drew my Glock, inching closer.

A few minutes later a young woman with long, dark, curly hair walked in through the back door holding a laundry basket. I followed behind her, stopping next to the door and pressing my ear against it. I could hear Tara clearly, and what sounded like two other women. From the sound of things Tara was doing her level best to convince Oceanside to join our fight. Imploring them that their choices boiled down to joining us or losing what they had.

"They killed my friends...tortured another." Her voice cracked, and I squeezed the gun in my hand harder. "They killed my girlfriend. They took us over. They took everything from us. We do whatever The Saviors tell us to do, and they think we're still doing that, but we're not. We're gonna fight them. We have other communities behind us, and with Oceanside, we would have an army."

I had to give her credit. It was a rousing speech. Too bad it wasn't working. I couldn't hear every word, but I heard enough. Oceanside wasn't interesting in fighting The Saviors.

"You have to tell me right now!"

She was getting desperate because it wouldn't be long until the bombs went off. A shudder raced down my spine, and I pulled my spare weapon from the back of my jeans, positioning myself in front of the door. I couldn't let anything happen to Tara, not while I could stop it.

She continued to demand their allegiance, but they weren't having it. One of the women matched her tone, adamant fighting was akin to a death sentence.

Then time ran out.

The first bomb exploded with a deafening roar sending the quaint seaside community into utter chaos, women and children screaming as they ran for cover. The second bomb detonated less than a minute later, a fireball blazing 20-feet in the air. Our strategy worked to perfection, forcing the women to flee in the opposite direction or risk seeing if stop, drop and roll actually worked.

Deadpool fired two shots from her perch in an effort to stop a few brave souls from getting to the armory, but my focus was still on what was taking place inside the cabin. I heard Tara ordering the women to stop, to move back, and by the desperation in her voice it was clear they weren't complying. She wasn't going to defend herself. Not against these people who'd once offered her sanctuary. One day she'd finally realize you can't save everyone.

I took a step back, raising my leg and kicking the door with the sole of my boot. I didn't hesitate, exploding through the entry in a blur of movement. Tara was lying on the ground, weapon pointed at two women while they pointed one back. Caught off guard by my unexpected entrance everyone froze. By the time they recovered I had my weapons pressed against the back of their heads.

"Drop it or die," I ordered. The younger woman glanced at me briefly before bending down slowly and placing the gun on the ground. "You good?"

Tara picked up the weapon, climbing to her feet on shaking legs. "Gotta be." She stared at the older woman who was obviously the leader. "We didn't come here to hurt anyone."

She scoffed, "Then why is a gun pressed to the back of my head."

"She may not have come here to hurt anyone, but I will fuck up your world if needed. You feel me?" Both women stiffened, holding their hands high. They may be ready to square off with Tara, but they wanted no part of me. "We're gonna take a walk outside. Piss me off, I kill you both. Try anything, I kill you both. Any questions?"

The shook their heads, turning slowly while I moved to the side in order to keep distance between us, my weapon still aimed at their heads. They kept their hands up, moving outside with Tara in front and me bringing up the rear. They made no move to run or fight, and I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

"No one needs to get hurt. This is just about what you have, what we need," Rick said, addressing the community.

He still sucked at this kind of stuff, but I suppose there was no good way to say sorry we're stealing your shit and sentencing you to death. The women were on their knees looking scared shitless, not that I could fault them. Daryl saw us first, moving quickly in our direction, crossbow still aimed at the group on their knees.

"Red?"

"Hey Katniss, I made new friends."

The brother's closed in on either side of us looking goddamn menacing. The way they looked right now I'd shit myself if all they were doing was asking to borrow a cup of sugar so I totally understood why the two women I was holding prisoner shrunk under their glares. I'd feel bad for them if I gave a fuck.

"Alex? Tara?" Rick's body was tense, cop eyebrow scanning the newcomers.

"This is Natania. She's the leader of Oceanside." Tara pointed at the older woman. "This is Cyndie."

Rick took a moment to study the leader, tilting his head to the side. "I'm sorry about this, but there is another option. You can join us, help us fight The Saviors."

"Let us go. Leave us alone," Natania snarled, not letting the fact she was outnumbered deter her. This one had some big lady balls. "We want no part of this fight. We know how it ends."

"You don't know a goddamn thing," I barked. Her head snapped to the side, eyes wide as my husband took a step closer. I wasn't sure if it was to protect me or restrain me.

"Yes we do," she countered, "We tried. We lost, too much. We can't go through that again. We just want to be left alone."

"We'll leave you alone, but we're taking your guns. That's not gonna change," Rick replied calmly.

There was a murmur among the community, people whispering and looking wide-eyed at the two leaders squaring off. It was obvious not everyone shared Natania's point of view on the subject.

"Grandma, we need to try." Natania looked at her granddaughter like she'd shoved a knife in her back. She better settle down or I'd shove a real knife in her back. "We have to try because of what we've lost. We owe it to them, to ourselves, to fight The Saviors."

The hushed murmur of the crowd got louder. The community as a whole was obviously scared, but they didn't want to live under the thumb of The Saviors any more than we did.

"We're gonna win," Tara promised, back straight, chin held high. "With your guns...with or without your help."

"Maybe we should try," one of the women kneeling on the ground offered.

"No!" Natania roared, "After everything?! We can lose our guns, but us leaving this place to fight? After everything? This is your life! Remember what it looks like. Remember what they did to us!"

I raised my weapon fully intending on blasting a hole in the back of her head, but Cyndie beat me to the punch, literally. She reared back, landing a solid right hook that laid her grandmother out.

"'Bout fuckin' time," Merle drawled an approving smile on his face.

"Rick! Walkers!" Deadpool's warning cut our celebratory mood short.

The walkers appeared seemingly out of thin air, filing the woods as they lumbered towards us with jerky, erratic movements. The scent of decay and death reached me long before they did, and overpowered the scent of the ocean. Quickly I pulled the M4 off my back, stepping forward so I was in front of the women still on their knees, staring at the walkers in horror.

"Everybody up! Get the children behind us! They're coming!" Rick yelled.

Our group formed a line of protection in front of Oceanside, weapons raised.

"First shift, join them on the line. Knives out. Dead only. Dead only!" an Oceanside woman with short cropped hair ordered.

Rick cut her restrains off with a clear warning to behave or she could join the dead. My blood was somewhere between lit dynamite and a shaken can of soda, every limb jittering with anticipation and excitement which was probably really fucked up. Conversely, my husband stood beside me, calm, collected, and utterly composed. Idly I wondered what it was like to be that badass. Something told me I'd never know.

"Wait until they're within range, and call out your targets," I instructed. Gabby, Carl, Francine, Merle, Aaron, and Eric identified their first kills one after the other. "Once they get close enough those with knives protect the shooters. Those of you with weapons don't shoot any of us in the goddamn back!"

I couldn't count the number of walkers coming at us, but there were a lot. Once they got closer I could see barnacles growing on their faces and bodies. Well, that was something new and different.

"Hold!" I yelled, adrenaline pumping though my veins. When the first of the dead were within range I screamed, "Now!"

The sound of gunfire drowned out the growl of the approaching walkers. I picked out my targets, firing in rapid succession, taking down four with well-placed head shots in a matter of seconds. Deadpool covered us from the tree, clipping a walker in the shoulder but failing to kill it, and I rolled my eyes. How she snagged the role of sniper was a mystery. The woman may be death incarnate with her sword, but she couldn't shoot for shit.

The rest of our group was deadly with their aim, walkers falling in groups of two and three, but still the dead closed in. My husband let an arrow fly, and I called his name, tossing him my M4.

"The hell ya doin'?"

"I'll be right back."

I stepped away from the line, two knives materializing in my hands though I had no memory of drawing them. I should have felt fear at what I was about to do, but instead the world blurred around the edges, gunfire and shouting replaced with calm, blissful silence. The vibrant colors of the woods faded to dull grays and blacks and my breathing leveled out. I narrowed my eyes, cocking my head to the side while I twirled the knife in my left hand.

A walker directly in front of me lunged and I smirked before darting to my left, slamming a knife into his head when he stumbled past me. He slumped to the ground, dead for the second time, and I felt the muscles in my body relax. Being engaged in hand-to-hand combat wasn't the safest idea, but I felt lighter on my feet, relaxed, completely in my element.

Two more walkers came at me from the left simultaneously, and I spun, taking one down with a roundhouse kick then throwing the knife in my left hand, killing the second. I drew another knife from my sheath, using the heel of my boot to crush the skull of the walker wiggling at my feet.

"Red, behind ya!"

I twirled, letting the blade fly blind. It slammed into a walker's eye, throwing the woman off her feet and to the ground. Two gunshots fired simultaneously, and I swear I felt the tiny, projectiles ruffle my sleeve. The bullets hit two walkers sneaking up behind me with a wet thump, and I glanced over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow as they crumpled to the ground. Pursing my lips I turned to the brothers who were standing side-by-side looking at me.

I pointed my bloody knife at Merle. "That last one was close."

"Quit yur belly achin'," he scoffed, rolling his eyes before leaving to make sure his girlfriend was alright.

I grumbled under my breath, retrieving my knives now that all the walkers were dead. Daryl stood casually nearby, watching me carefully. When I was done I stopped beside him, waiting for him to speak his mind.

"Feel better?" I shrugged indifferently. For about 10-seconds I had, but now that it was over I didn't know what I felt. "They ain't never seen nothin' like that."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's one thing to kill a walker. It's another to do what you do." I frowned, looking up at him. He nodded his chin in the opposite direction. "Yur strong even though yur strugglin'. Yur brave even when deep down yur scared to death. Ya make them think it's possible."

This was some incredible redneck poetry.

"What's possible?"

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. "Winnin'."

I grinned, stretching until I was on the tips of my toes, and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Viva la revolución."

He snorted, "Damn straight."

A woman handed Rick a knife, and he offered her his hand. She grinned, shaking it causing Natania to scoff in outrage. Something told me that woman's knickers were in a perpetual knot.

"No, we're not fighting with you so take your damn guns and go," she huffed, stomping off. She reminded me of Nugget when she was forced to eat anything green.

The community watched us take their weapons with sadness in their eyes. All things considered they were swallowing the great big back of dicks we were handing them relatively well, especially since we were sentencing them to death.

I bit my lip, worry building in my gut. My eyes raked over the women, and I knew I should feel something, sympathy, shame, guilt, but when I reached for the feeling it simply wasn't there. I told myself it was because we were justified. We'd offered them a choice, and they'd declined. This was the price of their refusal. It was so messed up that kind of logic made sense to me, but that was the world now. We couldn't afford to be nice and we most certainly couldn't save everyone.

"How did you learn to do that?"

I glanced down only to see a girl around 10 or 11-years old who was shifting her weight from foot-to-foot nervously. "Learn to do what?"

"Kick the shit out of biters."

"You always talk like that?"

"Fuck yeah."

I didn't even try to contain my grin. "OK."

"So, where did you learn?"

"Why do you want to know?"

She swallowed hard, but didn't back down. "Cause I want to learn."

From what I saw a few minutes ago the kid could hold her own just fine. The thought made me incredibly sad. When I looked at her I saw Nugget. Children were born with an inherent sense of innocence this girl had stolen from her. She was carved from steel, ready and willing to dole out death because it was what the world demanded.

"Will you teach me?"

"No," I said firmly, pushing off the tree, intending to get the hell away from this place. Her face flushed red with fury, her tiny hands balled into fists at her side.

"This war is over. They'll crush you just like they crushed us. You'll never win."

"Impressive." I pivoted on my heel to face her sporting a smirk that only made her more pissed. "Every word of what you just said was wrong." Her nostrils flared in agitation, and I threw her a wink. "See ya around kid."

"Whatca smilin' at?" Daryl asked as I threw my leg over the motorcycle.

"They're gonna be alright."

He twisted so he could see my face, clearly not following. I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wrapping my hands around his waist. He shook his head with a smirk, twisting the throttle. He gave up trying to decipher my inner workings not long after we tried to kill each other over a deer.

It was dark by the time we returned to Alexandria, and I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and curl up next to my husband. Unfortunately, that would have to wait because what greeted us had my heart hammering in my chest like a prized stallion running the Kentucky Derby.

Apocalypse Barbie's face was impassive and unreadable when she opened the gate, but I saw the hint of remorse in her eyes she was desperately trying to conceal. It wasn't hard to guess what put it there because Sasha was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, are you OK?"

"Where's Sasha?"

Enid and Jesus' questions came one right after the other, but the woman in front of us had no intention of answering either. My throat was dry as a bone, and I didn't realize my hands were shaking until Daryl slipped his callous one into mine.

"There's someone here."

She led us to the prison cell Mr. Miyagi built, swinging the door open wide. Everyone stood outside the entrance; no one spoke or moved so I took a tentative step forward. The man in the cell stood, the moonlight streaming in from the windows highlighting half his disfigured face, and all the air in my lungs whooshed out in one strained puff.

There was no warning save a low, menacing growl before Daryl charged. He pushed bodies out of his way, fighting to get his hands on the man responsible for my torture. Rick jumped in front of him, trying to hold him off while my husband cursed and snarled, desperate to break free.

"No, Daryl, no!" Rick exclaimed, more people joining in the effort to restrain the redneck.

A cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I watched the scene unfold. For his part Two-Face remained still, afraid any wrong move would mean the end of his miserable life.

Merle grabbed his brother's arm, yanking him back and pinning him against the wall, an elbow under his chin. "Now ain't the time lil' brother."

The chaos taking place around me hardly was a dull roar in the background. Just like at Oceanside reality, along with a sizeable portion of my sanity, slipped through my fingers like sand in an hourglass, but there was one major difference this go-round. I wasn't in control. There was only one thought in my fractured mind, kill him.

It wasn't hard to get closer because everyone was focused on my husband who was still spewing profanity and death threats. The only one who noticed my advance was Two-Face, and he didn't look surprised, just resigned to his fate. He took a deep breath, raising both hands in surrender, and I cocked my head to the side in confusion. His eyes flicked away from my face and down to my hand. I followed his gaze, surprised to find my Glock firmly pressed in my steady hand.

"Alex."

Deadpool's voice sounded a million miles away, and all at once the pandemonium in the cell ground to a halt.

"He says he wants to help us," Apocalypse Barbie added casually like I wasn't about to execute a man.

I couldn't stop the fanatical laugh that bubbled up from deep in my chest. "Help us?" Two-Face nodded, swallowing hard. "You want to help us?"

"Y-yeah."

My body shook, partially from laughter, partially from adrenaline, but not from fear. I left fear back in my cell at The Sanctuary. This man held no power over me, not anymore, and by the look on his face he knew it. The shaking in my hand was due to the effort I was exerting not to splatter his brain all over the back wall.

"You mean like you helped me at The Sanctuary?"

His head fell, shoulders slumping in shame that only served to piss me off. He didn't get to throw a pity party.

"Alex, let me handle this." Rick's booming voice dripped with authority I outright ignored.

"No."

"Red."

Daryl's gravelly voice broke through my bloodlust, but I refused to lower my weapon. I heard his heavy steps bringing him closer. With every one my resolve to murder the bastard in front of me waned a little more. If he asked me not to kill him I wouldn't so maybe I should hurry up and kill him before he got the chance.

"I'm sorry. I know it ain't enough, but I'm sorry for what happened to you. For my part in it. I did what I did for someone else, but she got away."

My nostrils flared. "From the very bottom of my heart...I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck."

Daryl's hand slowly wrapped around my left wrist, his body moving until he was directly beside me. His presence overwhelmed me, drowning out my need for vengeance and replacing it with a need to be held by him. The look on my face made him press his lips into a hard line, eyes brimming with concern as he continued to push my arm down. A lone tear trailed down my cheek when he pried the weapon out of my hand, tucking it into the back of his jeans. He ground his teeth together, arms enveloping me in an embrace meant to protect me from the world.

The moment he disarmed me Rick and Merle sprang into action. Daryl spun me away from Two-Face, his arms never loosening.

"You want to help?" Rick asked, but I could hardly hear over the pounding of my heart.

"Breathe baby, just breathe," Daryl whispered in my ear, stroking my back, "I gotcha."

"Dontcha fuckin' look at her," Merle barked.

Daryl's hold on me tightened, his glare directed at the man behind me. I took a few deep breaths then pulled away from him. He frowned, looking down at me questioningly, but I shook him off, turning around. Weakness wasn't a luxury I could afford, especially in front of Two-Face.

"Why?"

Two-Face obediently kept his gaze on Rick. "Cause I want him stopped. I want Negan dead."

"So why don't you kill him?"

"Can't just be me," he answered with a sad shake of his head. "They're all Negan."

"That girl you murdered...she had a name. Her name was Denise, and she was a doctor. And she helped people."

"I wasn't aiming for her."

I wasn't the least bit surprised when Daryl lunged forward, pinning the man to the wall with a knife at his throat. In fact, I was a little jealous.

"Do it." Daryl's hand curled in his shirt, pulling him away from the wall only to slam him back into it. "You want it to end this way, go ahead." His eyes strayed to me for a moment before he added, "I get it...believe me, I understand. He owned me before, but not anymore. That's why I'm here."

"We can't trust him," Deadpool stated.

"We work together we can stop them." His eyes strayed again in my direction. "You knew me then, and you know me now. You know I'm not lying."

He wasn't, and it made me sick. I didn't need a reason to want him dead, but I did need one to keep him alive. If what he was saying was true, that he was a turncoat, it could be shift that turned the tide in our favor. The real question wasn't whether or not he was lying. It was whether or not I had the strength to put aside my personal issues for the sake of the group?

"Stop fuckin' talkin' to her or I'll cut yur goddamn tongue outta yur mouth," my husband threatened.

"Do it! Do it!" Tara yelled, desperate for him to die, to suffer like she suffered.

"They have Sasha." All eyes strayed to Apocalypse Barbie. "If she's even still alive."

"Why didn't you say something? He could be our only chance to get her back," Jesus replied, outraged.

She shrugged, unaffected by his judgmental stare. "Because I don't trust him." Her dead eyes settled on me. "But I trust Alex."

Well, great, no pressure or anything.

"Negan's coming soon. Tomorrow. Three trucks probably. Twenty Saviors and him. He suspects it was Alex who blew our outpost to hell, and he's pissed. He won't stop until he finds her, punishes everyone she loves, and he's gonna start with Alexandria."

"How does he know it was her?" Rick asked.

Two-Face smirked. "Cause he knows what she can do. Less than a week after she escapes out from under him an outpost gets blown sky high. Something that ain't never happened before mind you. He may be an asshole, but he ain't stupid."

"What do you propose?" Deadpool scowled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I can slow them down, bring some trees down in the road, buy a little time for you guys to get ready." His eyes darted around the room. "You kill them, I'll radio back to the Sanctuary, and say everything's okay. You drive the trucks back, and I can lead you right inside, and, with the right plan, we can wipe out the rest. Check to see if your friend's still alive. Then, we get the workers on our side, build our numbers up, and go from outpost to outpost and end this."

"Keep talking," Rick instructed.

I turned on my heel, stalking out of the room. I couldn't listen to his voice for a second longer. It wasn't a bad plan, but the mere notion of working with the man who'd tortured me made me sick.

A few minutes later Daryl stepped outside, silently stopping at my side. "Ya a'right?"

"Not even a little."

The group escorted Two-Face to his car and I was more than a little disappointed he wasn't in a body bag.

"We just started it...the whole thing," Rick mused, watching the headlights disappear around a corner.

"If he's lyin' I'm gonna kill him real slow." That actually kind of made me smile. It was sweet he would do that for me, but no one was killing that asshole except me. "When this is done, I don't give a damn if he's sorry. I will kill that sumbitch for what he done."

Preach Legolas!

"If he's lying this is already over," Rick countered grimly.

"That's where you're wrong." The two men who were once strangers and were now brothers turned to me. "It's over when we say it's over."

* * *

 **We all know what happens next...or do we? LOL**

 **Until next time...**


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